by Ким Харрисон
The shower had done him good. After a week of deprivation, his narrow physique was positively gaunt, making his clean-shaven cheeks hollow and his Adam's apple more prominent. Where his lean frame had made him look scholarly before, it now only left him skinny. The gray sweats hung loose on him, and I wondered when his last hot meal had been.
His blue eyes, though, had regained the sheen of intelligence as the shower, energy bars, and distance all helped him deal with what he'd endured. He was safe—for the moment.
My mind pinged back to him leaning against the brown cinder-block building, a broken man weeping as he pulled the trigger on the shotgun.
Ivy cleared her throat, and I met her gaze through the oblong glass, returning her accusing stare with a shrug. She knew what I was thinking.
"Watch the car!" I exclaimed, and she jerked her attention back to the road. I was already reaching for a handhold when she hit the brakes, narrowly missing the bumper of the Toyota before us. Swinging forward from the momentum, I glared at her.
Nick had braced himself against the dash, and though his look was full of disgust, he said nothing. Ivy smiled at the irate driver we had almost hit, showing her pointy canines so the guy would back off and be glad we weren't stopping to make sure everyone was okay.
As we waited for the light, I stretched for my bag and charms. Nick was hurting, and there was no need for it. Yeah, I was mad at him, but him being in pain wouldn't help anyone.
The smoothness of two pain amulets filled my hand, and I slowly dropped one. I didn't hurt at all since turning back into a person, my sore back and nipped hand completely pain free. Wondering, I dug deeper for a finger stick. The prick of the blade was easily dismissed, and I massaged the three drops out. The clean scent of redwood rose, and the blood soaked in.
"Ah, Rachel?" Ivy called intently, and I stuck my finger in my mouth.
"What?"
There was a short silence, then, "Never mind."
She cracked the window, and with the cool air off the water shifting my hair, I decided to hang back here for a while. Getting her home ASAP was an excellent idea. Vamps were homebodies—high-maintenance, party-till-you-die, don't-look-at-me-funny-or-I'll-kill-you homebodies, but homebodies nevertheless. And for obvious reasons. I still didn't know why she was here. How she was going to handle her hunger without the net of people she had left in Cincinnati worried me. Maybe it'd be easier out of Piscary's influence. God, I hoped so.
The van eased into motion, and I rifled through my bag for a complexion charm. It was too bumpy to put on makeup, but I could at least look rested and relaxed. And it would get rid of the bags under my eyes, I thought morosely, flipping open my little compact mirror. Squinting in the dim light, I looked closer.
"Hey, Ivy?" I bolted forward, hunched as I lurched up to the front. "Are my freckles gone?" Eyes wide, I leaned out between Ivy and Nick, tilting my head so they both could see.
Ivy glanced from the road to me, then back again. A slow smile spread across her face, telling me my answer before she said a word. "Open your mouth," she said.
Bewildered, I did, and she looked, making me nervous when she smoothly halted without watching the car that had stopped before us.
From my right came Nick's soft, "Are they gone?" and Ivy nodded.
"What's gone?" Shoving the pain amulet at Nick, I opened my mouth and tried to see what they were looking at. "My fillings are gone!" I exclaimed, shocked. Pulse hammering, I looked at my wrist. "That's still there," I said, looking at Al's demon mark and wanting to check the underside of my foot for Newt's, which I didn't because of all that hair. I looked at my elbow instead. "But the scar from when I fell off my bike isn't," I added.
Twisting, I tried to see the back of my shoulder where I'd cut myself falling into the lawn mower doing cartwheels. Ah, I had been doing the cartwheels, not the lawn mower.
"Your neck is unmarked," Ivy said softly, and I froze, meeting her eyes in the mirror. There was the faintest swelling of black. "Do you want me to see if it's really gone?" she asked.
I leaned back, suddenly aware of her. Nick cleared his throat in a subtle show against it, which halted my first impulse to say no. If it was gone, it would be worth all the blackness I had put on my soul. Despite my better judgment, I nodded.
Ivy exhaled long and slow, the sound setting my blood to thrum. Her eyes dilated to a full black, and I stiffened, fixed to them through the rearview mirror. Though her fingers were still on the wheel, I felt as if she was touching my neck with a shocking intimacy, pressing with a light but demanding insistence.
I inhaled, and like a sudden flame from a match, it sparked a tingling assault. Heat poured through me, following the line from my neck to my chi. A small sound escaped me, and if I'd been able to think, I would have been embarrassed.
Ivy broke our eye contact through the mirror, holding her breath as she struggled to pull her hunger back. "It's still there," she said, her voice both rough and smooth. Wavering where I sat, her eyes met mine and darted away. "Sorry," she added, fingers clenching the wheel.
Blood pounding, I retreated to the cot. To ask her to do that had been stupid. Slowly the tingling vanished. My scar wasn't puckering my skin, but obviously the vampire virus was still fixed there. I was terribly glad I was a witch and couldn't be Turned. Ever. I had a feeling that was one of the reasons Ivy put up with so much of my crap.
The van was uncomfortably silent, windy now that Ivy had rolled the window completely down. It was cold, but I wasn't going to say anything. My perfume, which blocked my scent from mixing with Ivy's, was in here somewhere. Maybe I ought to find it.
The tension slowly eased as we moved to the bridge. I looked at my hands in the dusk of the van, seeing them smooth and perfect, every flaw that marked my passage through time gone. It seemed like the curse had reset everything: no freckles, no childhood scars, no fillings…
Panic slid through me. Frightened, I lurched to the front, kneeling between them. "Nick," I whispered. "What if I lost what Trent's dad—"
Nick smiled, smelling like hotel soap as he took my hand. "You're fine, Ray-ray. If the vamp virus is still fixed in your cells, then whatever Trent's father changed will be there too."
I felt unreal as I pulled my hand from his. "Are you sure?"
"Your freckles are gone but you still have your sensitivity to vampires. That would suggest the charm resets your form by your DNA. And if your DNA was changed, by a virus or…" His eyes flicked to Ivy staring out the window, her grip deceptively loose on the wheel. "…something else, the change is carried over." Smiling, he leaned closer. I froze, then jerked back when I realized he was going to kiss me.
Face emptying of emotion, Nick settled in his seat. Flushing, I moved away. I didn't want him to kiss me. What in hell is wrong with him?
"It wasn't a charm, it was a demon curse," Ivy said darkly, jerking the car into motion. Though the traffic was stop-and-go, the roughness had been on purpose. "She put a hell of a lot of black on her soul while saving your ass, crap for brains."
Nick's eyes widened and he turned in his seat. His expression grew haunted. "A demon curse? Ray-ray, please tell me you didn't buy a demon curse to help me."
"I'm a white witch, Nick," I said tartly, my words harsher at the reminder of what I'd done to myself. "I didn't make a deal with anyone. I twisted the curse myself." Well, Ceri twisted it, actually, but pointing that out didn't seem prudent.
"But you can't!" he protested. "It's demon magic."
Ivy tunked the brakes, and I caught my balance when the van stopped quick at a new yellow light. Behind us, Jenks blew the car's horn, which Ivy ignored. "Are you calling her a liar?" she said, turning in her seat to look at Nick squarely.
His long face reddened, his newly shaved cheeks a shade paler. "I'm not calling her anything, but the only place you can get a working demon charm is from a demon."
Ivy laughed. It was ugly, and I didn't like it. "You don't know shit, Nick."
"Stop it, both
of you!" I exclaimed. "God, you're like two kids fighting over a frog."
Angry, I retreated to sit on the cot, leaving two silent, sullen people in the front. The soft clinks of the toll money slipping through Nick's fingers were loud. As we crept forward in the slow line, I forced myself to be calm. Most likely Nick was right that I wouldn't suddenly find myself dying from a childhood disease again, but it was still a worry.
"Look there," he said suddenly, his voice thick with warning. "Ray-ray, stay down."
Immediately I crowded to the front to earn Ivy's huff of impatience. Before us spread the bridge, its glory marred by construction crews. We were nearly on it, and the guy holding the Slow sign was watching everyone far too intently. I could tell from three cars away that he was a Were, a Celtic knot tattoo encompassing his entire right shoulder.
"Damn it," Ivy muttered, her jaw clenching. "I see him. Rachel, hold on."
I braced myself when Ivy flicked the turn signal and pulled a right to get out of the bridge traffic at the last moment. Peering out the dirty square of a window in the back, I saw Jenks following. Jax and Rex were scampering about on the dash, and I don't know how Jenks managed to keep the car on the road.
The van rocked as it found its new momentum, and I felt ill. "Now what?" I said, finding Jenks's old flip-flops and putting them on.
Ivy sighed. Her grip on the wheel tightened and relaxed. Glancing into the rearview mirror, her eyes met mine. Nick's truck would have to wait. I listened to the traffic and Nick's frightened breathing. I could almost hear his heart, see it pulse in his neck as he fought the fear of his entire week of torture.
"I'm hungry," Ivy abruptly said. "Anyone want a pizza?"
Nineteen
Eyes on the rearview mirror, Ivy eased the van to a halt in the restaurant lot in the shade between two semis. The sound of traffic was loud through her window, and I couldn't help but be impressed at being so well hidden this close to the main road. Shifting the gearshift into park, she undid her seat belt and turned. "Rachel, there's a box under the floorboard. Will you get it for me?"
"Sure." While Ivy got out, I scuffed back the throw rug and pried up the metal plate to find, instead of a spare tire, a dusty cardboard box. Trying to keep it from touching me, I set it on the driver's seat. Ivy looked out from between the two trucks when Jenks parked across the lot. She whistled, and Jax darted up before his dad could even get out of the car.
"What's up, Ms. Tamwood?" the small pixy said, stopping before her. "Why did we stop? Are we in trouble? Do you need gas? My dad has to pee. Can you wait for him?"
I was pleased to see that Jax was wearing a scrap of red tucked into his belt. It was a symbol of good intentions and a quick departure should he stray into another pixy's territory. Seeing him learning the ropes made me feel good, even if the reason behind it was depressing.
"The Weres have the bridge," Ivy said, gesturing for Jenks to stay where he was beside Kisten's car. He was fumbling with his inside-out cap, and with the jeans he now had on over his running tights and his aviator jacket, he looked good. "Tell your dad to get a table if it looks okay," Ivy added, squinting from behind her sunglasses. "I'll be there in a sec."
"Sure thing, Ms. Tamwood."
He was gone in a clattering of wings. A light breeze shifted Ivy's hair, and standing beside the open door, she pried the dusty flaps up to pull out a roll of heavy ribbon. A faint smile quirked the corner of her mouth, and Nick and I waited for an explanation.
"I haven't done this in years," she said, looking to the narrow slice of visible parking lot. "I don't think they saw us," she said, "but by tonight they will have tracked you and Jenks to your motel, and that lady will tell them you were driving a white van. If we're going to be in town longer than that, we need to change a few things."
I recognized the thick tape in her hands as magnetic striping, and my eyebrows went up. Cool. A vehicle disguise.
"There's a license plate somewhere in there," she said, and I nodded, going back for it. "And the screwdriver?"
Nick cleared his throat, sounding impressed. "What is that? Magnetic pinstripe?"
Ivy didn't look at him. "Kisten has black lightning and flaming crosses too," she said.
And illegal flash paint, I mentally added when she shook a can of specially designed spray paint.
She moved the box to the running board of the nearby semi. The door thumped shut, sealing Nick and me inside. "By the time I get done with her, she could win the goth division in a car show," she said.
Smirking, I handed her the Ohio plate and screwdriver through the window. Even the tags were up to date.
"Sit tight," she said, taking them. "Nobody moves until I get Jenks's take on the restaurant."
"I'm sure it's fine," I said, moving to the front seat. "I'm so hungry, I could eat a seat cushion."
Ivy's brown eyes met mine from over her sunglasses, and her motion of shaking the spray can slowed. "It's not the food I'm worried about. I want to be sure it's mostly human." Her face went worried. "If there are any Weres, we're leaving."
Oh, yeah. Worried, I slumped behind the wheel, but Ivy looked unconcerned, taking a rag from the box and starting to wipe the road dust off the van. I was glad she was there. Sure, I was a classically trained runner, and while subterfuge was a part of that, hiding from large numbers of people out to get you wasn't. This stuff was what she had cut her teeth on. I guessed.
Nick undid his belt when Ivy edged out of sight. I could hear her work, the sporadic hisses of paint followed by squeaks as she wiped down the bumpers before the illegal paint took. The smell of fixative tickled my nose. I glanced at Nick, and he opened his mouth.
"Hey, a disguise sounds like a good idea," I blurted, twisting to reach my bag. "I've got a good half dozen in here. They're for smell, not looks, since Weres track by smell and will find us that way long before they see us. They took the ones I had on the island, but I made extra."
I was babbling, and Nick knew it. He puffed his breath out and settled back while I rummaged for them. "A disguise sounds good," he said. "Thanks."
"No prob," I answered, bringing out a new finger stick along with a handful of amulets. I broke the safety seal and arranged four amulets on my knees. I didn't know how to treat Nick anymore. We had done well together until it fell apart, but it had been a long, lonely three months until he finally left. I was mad at him, but it was hard to stay that way. I knew it was my need to help the downtrodden, but there it was.
The silence was uncomfortable, and I pricked my finger anew. I invoked them all to make the scent of redwood blossom, then handed him the first. "Thank you," he said as he took it, lacing it over his head, where it fell to clink against his pain amulet. "For everything, Ray-ray. I really owe you. What you did…I can never repay you for that."
It was the first time we'd been alone since pulling him out of that back room, and I wasn't surprised at his words. I flashed him a blank smile then looked away, draping my amulet over my head and tucking it behind my shirt to touch my skin. "It's okay," I said, not wanting to talk about it. "You saved my life; I saved yours."
"So we're even, huh?" he said lightly.
"That's not…what I meant." I watched Ivy spray an elaborate symbol on the hood, her hidden artistic talents making something both beautiful and surprising as she blurred the gray paint into the white of the van to look very professional. Glancing at me in question, she tossed the can to the box and went to the back to change the plate.
Nick was silent, then, "You can Were, now?" he asked, stress wrinkles crinkling the corners of his eyes. The blue of them seemed faded somehow. "You make a beautiful wolf."
"Thank you." I couldn't leave it at that, and I turned to see him miserable and alone. Damn it, why did I always fall for the underdog? "It was a one-shot deal. I have to twist a new curse if I want to do it again. It's…not going to happen again." I had so much black on my soul, I'd never be rid of it. I wanted to blame Nick, but I was the one who took the curse. I could h
ave submitted to the drugs and stuck it out until someone came to rescue my ass. But no-o-o-o. I took the easy way by using a demon curse, and I was going to pay for it dearly.
His head went up and down, not knowing my thoughts but clearly glad I was talking. "So it isn't like you're a Were now in addition to being a witch."
I shook my head, startled when my longer hair brushed my shoulders. He knew the only way to become a Were was to be born one; he was trying to keep the conversation going.
Ivy came to the door, smelling of the fixative and wiping the gray from her fingers with a rag. "Here," she said, handing the old plate through. "If you look in the console, there should be an altered registration taped to the top. Can you switch them out?"
"You bet." Swell. Let's add falsifying legal documents to the list, I thought, but I took the Kentucky plate and screwdriver, giving her two amulets in their place. "These are for you and Jenks. Make sure he puts it on. I don't care what he says it makes him smell like."
Ivy's long fingers curved around them, shifting so they dangled from the cord and wouldn't effect her. "Scent disguise? Good thinking—for you." Showing the faintest blush of nervousness, she handed one of them back. "I'm not wearing one."
"Ivy," I protested, having no clue why she'd never accept any of my spells or charms.
"They don't know what I smell like, and I'm not wearing it!" she said, and I put up a hand in surrender. Immediately her brow smoothed, and she dug in a pocket for the keys to the van, handing them to me through the window. "I'll be right back," she said. "If I'm not out in four minutes, go." I took a breath to protest, and she added, "I mean it. Come rescue me by all means, but plan it out, don't burst in with your hair flying and in flip-flops."
A half smile came over me. "Four minutes," I said, and she walked away. I watched her in the side mirror. Her shoulders were hunched and her head was down—and then she was gone.
