Every Witch Way But Dead th-3

by Ким Харрисон

I said nothing, glad when we started moving again. I hadn't just scared him, I had made him seize. It must have been awful. No wonder he left. Great, now I'd feel guilty all day.

  Ivy jerked the wheel and shifted lanes. A horn blew, and she eyed the driver in the rearview mirror. Slowly the car put space between us, pushed back by the force of her gaze. "Do you mind if we stop at my folks' house for a minute? It's on the way."

  "Sure." I stifled a gasp when she cut a right in front of the truck we'd just passed. "Ivy, you may have lightning reflexes, but the guy driving that truck just had kittens."

  She snorted, dropping back two whole feet off the bumper of the car now ahead of us.

  Ivy made an obvious effort to drive normally through the busier areas of the Hollows, and slowly I relaxed my death grip on my bag. It was the first time we'd been together and away from Jenks in about a week, and neither one of us knew what to get him for the solstice. Ivy was tending to the heated doghouse she had seen in a catalog; anything to get him and his brood out of the church. I'd settle for a lockbox we could cover with a rug and pretend was an end table.

  As Ivy drove, slowly the yards grew larger and the trees taller. The houses began moving back from the street until only their roofs showed from behind stands of evergreens. We were just inside the city limits, right next to the river. It really wasn't on the way to the mall, but the interstate wasn't far, and with that, the city was wide-open.

  Ivy pulled unhesitatingly into a gated drive. Twin tracks made a black trail on the dusting of snow that had fallen since it had been plowed. I leaned to look out the window, never having seen her parents' house. The car slowed to a halt before an old, romantic-looking three-story home painted white with hunter green shutters. A little red twoseater was parked out front, dry and free of snow.

  "You grew up here?" I asked as I got out. The two names on the mailbox gave me pause until I remembered vampires maintained their names after marriage to keep living blood-lines intact. Ivy was a Tamwood, her sister was a Randal.

  Ivy slammed her door and dropped her keys into her black purse. "Yeah." She looked to holiday lights making a tasteful, subdued display. It was getting dusky. The sun was only about an hour from setting, and I was hoping we would be gone before then. I didn't particularly want to meet her mom.

  "Come on in," she said, her boots thumping on the brushed steps, and I followed her onto the covered porch. She opened the door, shouting, "Hi! I'm home!"

  A smile curved over me as I hesitated just outside to stomp the snow off. I liked hearing her voice so relaxed. Coming inside, I shut the door and breathed deeply. Cloves and cinnamon—someone had been baking.

  The large entryway was all varnished wood and subtle shades of cream and white. It was as stark and elegant as our living room was warm and casual. A runner of cedar bough made graceful loops up the railing of the nearby stairway. It was warm, and I unbuttoned my coat and stuffed my gloves in the pockets.

  "That's Erica's car outside. She's probably in the kitchen," Ivy said, dropping her purse on the small table beside the door. It was polished so highly that it looked like black plastic.

  Taking her coat off, she draped it over an arm and headed for a large archway to the left, coming to a halt at a thumping of feet on the steps. Ivy looked up, her placid face shifting. It took me a moment to realize she was happy. My gaze followed her to a young woman slumping downstairs.

  She looked to be about seventeen, dressed in a skimpy goth short skirt to show her midriff, with black fingernails and lipstick. Silver chains and bangles swung everywhere as she hopped down the stairs, bringing that dog-eared page to mind. Her black hair was cut short and styled into wild spikes. Maturity hadn't yet finished filling her out, but I could tell already that she was going to look exactly like her big sister apart from being six inches shorter: lean, sleek, predatory, and with just enough oriental cast to make her exotic. Nice to know it ran in the family. Of course, right now she looked like a teenage vamp out of control.

  "Hi, Erica," Ivy said, reversing her steps and waiting for her at the foot of the stairs.

  "My God, Ivy," Erica said, her high voice heavy on the valley girl accent. "You have to talk to Daddy. He's being total Big Brother. Like, I don't know the difference between good Brimstone and bad Brimstone? Listening to him, you'd think I was still two, crawling around in diapers trying to bite the dog. God! He was in the kitchen," she continued, her mouth going as she eyed me up and down, "making Mom her organically grown, earth-friendly, politically correct stinking cup of tea, when I can't go out one night with my friends. It's so unfair! Are you staying? She'll be up rattling the windows soon."

  "No." Ivy drew back. "I'm here to talk to Dad. He's in the kitchen?"

  "Basement," Erica said. Mouth finally stopping, she sent her gaze over me again as I stood in a bemused wonder at how fast she talked. "Who's your friend?" she asked.

  A faint smile curled up the corners of Ivy's mouth. "Erica, this is Rachel."

  "Oh!" the young woman exclaimed, her brown eyes that were almost hidden behind her black mascara going wide. She stepped forward and grabbed my hand, pumping it up and down enthusiastically with her bangles jingling. "I shoulda known! Hey, I saw you at Piscary's," she said, giving me a whack on the shoulder that sent me forward a step. "Man, you were sugared up good. Riding the short bus. Walking with the ghost. I didn't recognize you." Her eyes traveled over my jeans and winter coat. "You had a date with Kisten? Did he bite you?"

  I blinked, and Ivy laughed nervously. "Hardly. Rachel doesn't let anyone bite her." She took a step to her sister, giving her a hug. I felt good when the young woman returned it with a careless attention, apparently not knowing or caring how rarely Ivy touched anyone. The two pulled apart, and Ivy's features stilled. She took a breath, nostrils widening.

  Erica grinned like the cat who ate the canary. "Guess who I picked up at the airport?"

  Ivy straightened. "Skimmer's here."

  It was almost a whisper, and Erica all but danced back a step. "Came in on a morning flight," she said, as proud as if she had landed the plane herself.

  My eyes widened. Ivy was wire-tight. Breath catching, she spun to an archway at the sound of a door closing. A feminine voice echoed, "Erica? Is that my cab?"

  "Skimmer!" Ivy took a step to the archway, then rocked back. She looked at me, more alive than I'd seen her in a long time. A small scuff at the archway pulled her attention from me. Emotion cascaded over her, and the happiness settled in to stay, telling me that Skimmer was one of the few people Ivy felt comfortable to be herself around.

  So there were two of us, I thought, turning to follow her gaze to a young woman standing in the threshold. I felt my brows rise in speculation as I took in what had to be Skimmer. She was dressed in faded jeans and a crisp, white button-down shirt to make a nice mix of casual sophistication. Understated black boots brought her height to about mine. Slim and well-proportioned, the blond woman stood with a confident grace typical of living vampires.

  She had a single silver chain about her neck, and her blond hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail to accentuate a bone structure that models could spend a small fortune on plastic surgery to find. I stared at her eyes, wondering if they were really that blue or if they just seemed that way because of her incredibly long eyelashes. Her nose was small and turned up at the end to give her smile a look of shy confidence.

  "What are you doing here?" Ivy said, her face alight as she went to greet her. The two women gave each other a long hug. My lips parted and I froze at the lingering kiss before they parted. Okay…

  Ivy slipped me a glance, but she was smiling when she turned back to Skimmer, smiling, still smiling, with her hands on the woman's elbows. "I can't believe you're here!" she said.

  Skimmer glanced at me once before focusing on Ivy. She looked like she had enough confidence and smarts to break horses, teach aboriginal children, and dine out at a five-star restaurant all in one day. And she and Ivy had kissed? Not just a peck, but
a real…kiss?

  "I'm out here on business," she said. "Long-term business," she added, her pleasant voice thick with a pleased emotion. "A year, I'm guessing."

  "A year! Why didn't you call me? I would have picked you up!"

  The woman took a step back, and Ivy's hold on her fell away. "I wanted to surprise you," she said, her smile rising to encompass her blue eyes. "Besides, I wasn't sure of your situation. It's been so long," she finished softly.

  Her eyes fell on me, and I warmed in my new understanding. Aw, crap on toast. How long had I been living with Ivy? How could I have not known? Was I blind or just stupid?

  "Damn," Ivy swore, still obviously excited. "It's good to see you. What are you out here for? Do you need a place to stay?"

  My pulse quickened and I tried to keep my worry from showing. Two of them together in the church? Not good. Even more disturbing was that Skimmer seemed to relax at her offer, losing interest in me and focusing entirely on Ivy.

  Erica stood beside me, grinning mischievously. "Skimmer came out to work for Piscary," she said, clearly eager to tell what she thought was good news, but my face went cold. "It's all arranged. She looks to him now." Twirling her necklaces, the young vampire beamed. "Just like I always thought she should."

  Ivy took a breath and held it. Wonder crossed her, and she reached out to touch Skimmer's shoulder as if not believing she was really there. "You look to Piscary?" she breathed, and I wondered what the significance was. "Who or what did he give for you?"

  Skimmer shrugged, lifting one narrow shoulder and letting it fall. "Nothing yet. I've been trying the last six years to wiggle into his camarilla, and if I work this right, it will be permanent." She dropped her head briefly, her eyes alight and eager when they rose. "I'm staying at Piscary's place meantime," she said, "but thanks for the offer to bunk with you."

  Piscary's, I thought, my worry strengthening. That was where Kisten was living. This was getting better and better. Ivy, too, seemed to have to think about that. "You left your place with Natalie to run Piscary's restaurant?" she asked, and Skimmer laughed. It was comfortable and pleasant, and the volumes that were left unsaid made me uneasy.

  "No. Kist can have that job," she said lightly. "I'm here to get Piscary out of prison. My permanent inclusion into Piscary's camarilla is contingent upon it. If I win my case, I stay. If I lose, I go back home."

  I froze. Oh my God. She was Piscary's lawyer.

  Skimmer hesitated at Ivy's lack of response. Ivy turned to me, a panicked look on her face. I watched the wall come down, sealing everything away. Her happiness, her joy, her excitement at reuniting with an old friend; it was all gone. Something slipped between us, and I felt my chest tighten. Erica's bangles clanked as the young vampire clearly realized something was wrong but not understanding. Hell, I didn't think I understood.

  Suddenly wary, Skimmer glanced from me to Ivy. "So, who's your friend?" she asked into the awkward silence.

  Ivy licked her lips and turned to face me more fully. I shifted forward, not knowing how to react. "Rachel," Ivy said, "I'd like you to meet Skimmer. We roomed together for our last two years of high school out on the West Coast. Skimmer, this is Rachel, my partner."

  I took a breath, trying to decide how I should handle this. My hand went out to shake hers, but Skimmer walked past it, taking me into an expansive hug.

  I tried not to stiffen, determined to go with the flow until I had a chance to talk to Ivy about just what we were going to do about this. Piscary couldn't get out of prison; I'd never sleep again. My arms went about her in a loose generic hug, and I froze when the woman put her lips under my ear and breathed, "Pleasure to meet you."

  Adrenaline jolted through me as my demon scar flashed into waves of heat. Shocked, I shoved her away, collapsing to a defensive posture. The living vampire fell back, surprise making her long lashes and blue eyes look enormous. She caught her balance a good five feet away. Erica gasped, and Ivy was a black blur coming between us.

  "Skimmer!" Ivy shouted, her voice almost panicked as she stood with her back to me.

  My heart pounded and sweat broke out. The flaming promise on my neck hurt, it was so strong, and I put a hand to it, feeling betrayed and shocked.

  "She's my business partner!" Ivy exclaimed. "Not my blood partner!"

  The slim woman stared at us, flashing into a red-faced embarrassment. "Oh God," she stammered, hunching into a slightly submissive posture. "I'm sorry." She put a hand to her mouth. "I am really, really sorry." She looked at Ivy, who was slowly relaxing. "Ivy, I thought you'd taken a shadow. She smells like you. I was just being polite." Skimmer's gaze darted to me as I tried to slow my heartbeat. "You asked me to stay with you. I thought—God, I'm sorry. I thought she was your shadow. I didn't know she was your…friend."

  "It's all right," I lied, forcing myself upright. I didn't like the way she had said "friend." It implied more than what we were. But I currently wasn't up to trying to explain to Ivy's old roommate that we weren't sharing blood or a bed. Ivy wasn't much help, standing with a deer-in-the-headlights look. And I had this weird feeling I was still missing something. God, how did I get to this place?

  Erica was standing by the foot of the stairs, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Skimmer looked distressed as she tried to cover her error, smoothing her hands on her pants and touching her hair. She took a deep breath. Still flushed, she stiffly extended her hand in an obvious show of intent and stepped forward. "I'm sorry," she said as she halted before me. "My name is Dorothy Claymor. You can call me that if you want to. I probably deserve it."

  I managed to dredge up a stilted smile. "Rachel Morgan," I said, shaking her hand.

  The woman froze, and I pulled away. She looked at Ivy, the pieces falling into place.

  "The one who put Piscary in prison," I added, just to be sure she knew where I stood.

  A sick smile came over Ivy. Dropping back a step, Skimmer's gaze went between us. Confusion made her cheeks bright red. This was a mess. This was a sticky, stinking mess of crap, and the levels were steadily rising.

  Skimmer swallowed hard. "It's a pleasure to meet you." Hesitating, she added, "Boy, this is awkward."

  I felt my shoulders ease at her admission. She was going to do what she had to do, and I was going to do what I had to do. And Ivy? Ivy was going to go insane.

  Erica moved forward, the jingling of her jewelry sounding loud. "Hey, ah, does anyone want a cookie or something?"

  Oh yeah. A cookie. That would make everything better. Dunked in a shot of tequila, maybe? Or better yet, just the bottle? Yeah, that ought to do it.

  Skimmer forced a smile. Her crisp mien was wearing thin, but she was holding up well considering she had left her home and master to rekindle a relationship with her high school girlfriend who was rooming with the woman who had put her new boss behind bars. Join us next time for Days of the Undead when Rachel learns her long lost brother is really a crown prince from outer space. My life was so screwed up.

  Skimmer glanced at her watch—I couldn't help but notice it had diamonds on it in place of numbers. "I've got to go. I'm meeting with—someone in about an hour."

  She was going to meet someone in about an hour. Just after the sun went down. Why didn't she just say Piscary?

  "You need a ride?" Ivy said, sounding almost wistful, if she would ever let that particular emotion come from her.

  Skimmer looked from Ivy to me and back to Ivy, hurt and disappointment flickering in the back of her eyes. "No," she said softly. "I've got a cab coming." She swallowed, trying to scrape herself back together. "Actually, I think that's it now."

  I didn't hear anything, but I didn't have a living vampire's hearing.

  Skimmer shifted awkwardly forward. "It was nice meeting you," she said to me, then turned to Ivy. "I'll talk to you later, sweets," she said, eyes closed as she gave her a long hug.

  Ivy was still in a shocked quandary, and she returned it looking numb.

  "Skimmer," I said as they broke apart
and the shaken, subdued woman took a thin jacket from the hall closet and put it on. "This isn't what you think."

  She stopped with her hand on the doorknob, looking at Ivy for a long moment with deep regret. "It's not what I think that matters," she said as she opened the door. "It's what Ivy wants."

  I opened my mouth to protest, but she left, latching the door softly behind her.

  Seventeen

  Skimmer's departure left an awkward silence. As the cab accelerated down the drive, I looked at Ivy standing in the sterile white entryway with its elegant decorations that utterly lacked any warmth. Guilt was thick on her. I knew it was from the reminder that she still harbored the belief that someday I'd be her scion—apparently with a little extra something on the side. It was a position that I think Skimmer had moved out here hopefully to fill.

  Not sure what I was feeling, I faced her. "Why did you let her think we were lovers?" I said, shaking inside. "God, Ivy. We aren't even sharing blood, and she thinks we're lovers."

  Ivy's face closed, the barest tightening of her jaw giving away her emotion. "She doesn't think that at all." She strode out of the room. "Do you want some juice?" she called back.

  "No," I said softly as I followed her deeper into the house. I knew if I pressed the issue right now, she would likely become more closed. This conversation wasn't over, but having it in front of Erica wasn't a good idea. My head hurt. Maybe I could get her to talk about it over coffee and cheesecake while we were shopping. Maybe I should move to Timbuktu, or the Tennessee mountains, or somewhere else where there weren't any vampires. (Don't ask. It's weird, even for Inderlanders—which is saying a lot.)

  Erica was tight on my heels, her mindless chatter an obvious attempt to cover up the issues that Skimmer had raised. Her bright voice filled the sterile house with life as she trailed after us through large dim rooms full of hardwood furniture and cold drafts. I made a mental note to never get Erica and Jenks in the same room. No wonder Ivy didn't have a problem with Jenks. Her sister was cut from the same cloth.