The Outlaw Demon Wails th-6

by Ким Харрисон

  Nice, nice, nice, everything is freaking nice. I didn't watch when she turned and went back into the dressing room. "You're not getting anything?" she asked over the door as the ripping sound of Velcro tore through the pounding music. "This is the third shop and you haven't even tried anything on."

  Reclining in the soft leather, I looked at the ceiling. "Budget," I said simply.

  Ivy's silence brought my gaze down, and I saw her looking at my neck, a painful self-recrimination pinching her brown eyes. "You don't trust me," she said out of the blue, and her motions, mostly hidden behind the door, stopped. "You don't trust me, and you're ashamed of me, and I don't blame you. You had to hurt me to get me to stop. I'd be ashamed of me, too."

  Tension jerked through me and I sat upright. Two nearby shoppers turned toward us, and I stared blankly at Ivy. What in hell?

  "I said I could do it, and I failed," Ivy said. Her shoulders were bare, and her motions were fast and jerky as she roughly put her T-shirt back on.

  I stood, scrambling to figure out what was going on. I shouldn't have taken her shopping; I should have gotten her drunk. "You didn't fail. God, Ivy, sure, you lost it, but you caught it again. Don't you even remember what happened?"

  Her back was to me as she returned the lacy chemise to its hanger, and I retreated when she came out. It had been…fantastic. But it isn't going to happen again.

  She must have seen it in my face. Ivy stood stock-still before me with the lace top on a hanger, perfectly arranged and ready for the next person. "Then why are you ashamed of me?" she said softly, her fingers shaking.

  "I'm not!"

  Silent, she pushed past me to hang the shirt where she'd found it with a sharp clink and headed for the door.

  "Ivy, wait." I started after her, ignoring the idiot of a clerk cheerfully telling us to come back for the big sale tomorrow. The spell checker at the entryway made a blip at my complexion charm, but no one stopped me. Ivy was already a store down. Her hair was shimmering in the sun coming through the skylights, and I jogged to catch up. Typical Ivy, running away from the emotional stuff. Not this time.

  "Ivy, stop," I said as I caught up. "What the Turn gave you that idea? I'm not ashamed of you. God, I'm thrilled at the control you found. Did you not see how much better you did?" Not that it makes any difference in my decision.

  Head down, she slowed and halted. People flowed around us, but we were alone. I waited until she looked up, and the pain in her eyes was almost scary. "You're hiding your bites," she said in a low voice. "You've never done that before. Never. It was…" She sank down on the bench beside us and looked at the floor. "Why else would you hide my mark, unless you're ashamed of me? I said I could handle it, and I couldn't. You trusted me, and I failed."

  Oh, my God. Embarrassment warmed my cheeks as I realized the message I'd been sending. My hand came up, and I pulled the amulet over my head, tugging my hair as it pulled free. Why in hell didn't Cormel's book have anything useful in it? "I'm not ashamed of you," I said, throwing the charm into a nearby trash can. I lifted my chin as I felt the spell leave me and my red-rimmed bites appear. "I hid them because I'm ashamed of me. I have been living my life like a freaking kid with a video game, and it took me thinking I was bound to Kisten's killer to realize what I'm doing. That's why I was hiding them. Not because of you."

  Her brown eyes were dark with tears she would never shed as she blinked up at me. "You had to slam me into a wall to get me to stop."

  "I'm sorry for slamming you into a wall," I said, wanting to touch her arm so she knew how bad I felt. Instead, I sat down beside her, our knees almost touching as I faced her. "I…thought you were Kisten's killer." Her expression was pained, and I got mad. "I was having a freaking flashback, Ivy!" I exclaimed. "I'm sorry!"

  Ivy's jaw clenched and relaxed. "That's what I'm saying," she said bitterly. "You thought I was Kisten's killer. How bad is that, Rachel, when I turn into something so close to Kisten's murderer that it triggers a memory of…that?"

  Oh. I slumped back against the hard bench and put a hand to my head as it started to hurt. "He was playing on my scar, Ivy. So were you. My back was to the wall, and I was scared both times. That's all it was. It wasn't you, it was the vampire stuff."

  She turned to me, though I was still looking down the hall. "He?" she asked.

  I felt my focus blur as I thought about that, weighing what little memory I had regained against my emotions. "Yeah," I said softly. "It was a man. A man attacked me." I could almost smell him, a mix of cold and stone…. Old dust. Cold. Like cement."

  Ivy wrapped her arms around herself and took a deep breath. "A man," she said, and I noticed her long fingers were clenched about her upper arms with a white-knuckle strength. "I thought it might have been me."

  She stood up with her head bowed, and I followed her. Silent, we angled to a coffee cart in an unspoken agreement, and I felt for the presence of my bag. "I told you it wasn't you months ago."

  Her posture was heavy with relief, and her fingers shook as she fixed two cups of coffee, handing me one after I paid the woman at the register. It was a comfortable pattern, and I took a sip as we slowly started down the busy corridor for the car. Ivy's posture had shifted, as if a huge doubt had been removed from her soul along with the amulet around my neck. I could walk away from this and leave everything as it was, but I had to tell her now. To wait would make me a coward. "Ivy?"

  "Jenks is going to kill me," she said, giving me a quick sideways look. There was a hint of moisture in her eyes, and she smiled bitterly as she wiped it away. "You're leaving, aren't you."

  Oh, my God, when Ivy got it wrong, she really got it wrong. I didn't need a boyfriend. I had all the drama I could stand right here. "Ivy," I said softly as I pulled her to a stop among the oblivious people around us. "Sharing that with you was the most intoxicating thing I've ever felt. When our auras chimed…" I swallowed hard, having to be honest with her about the good as well as the bad. "It was as if I knew you better than myself. The love…"

  I sniffed and wiped my nose. "Damn it, I'm crying," I said miserably. "Ivy, as good as that felt, I can't do that again. That's what I've been trying to say. I can't let you break my skin again, not because you lost it or because I don't trust you. But because…" I looked up at the ceiling, unable to look at her. "Because I thought I was bound to a vampire, and it was the most frightened I've ever been in my life." I laughed bitterly. "And I've had some pretty scary shit to dig myself out of."

  "Then you are leaving."

  "No. But I won't blame you if you want to."

  I stood where we were in the filtered sun, searching for words so simple that they couldn't be misinterpreted or misunderstood. "I'm sorry," I breathed, but I knew she could hear me over the surrounding chatter of commerce. "I wasn't leading you on. I like you—hell, I love you, probably—but…" I gestured helplessly, seeing her expression dark with emotion when I found the courage to meet her eyes. "Kisten died because I was living my life like it had a reset button. He paid the price for my stupidity. I can't keep combining the risk of death with the joy of…caring and love. I'm not going to ever share that with you again." I hesitated. "No matter how good it feels. I can't keep living like that. I risked everything to gain—"

  "Nothing," she interrupted bitterly, and I shook my head.

  "Not nothing. Everything. I risked everything yesterday to gain everything, but it was an everything that I can't have and still keep what I love the most."

  She was listening. Thank you, God. I think I can say it now.

  "The church, Jenks, you," I said. "You as you are. Me as I am. I like me, Ivy. I like things the way they are. And if you bite me again…" I shivered and gripped my coffee tighter. "It felt so good," I whispered, lost in the memory of it. "I'd let you bind me, if you asked, just so I would have that forever. I'd say yes. And then…"

  "You wouldn't be you anymore," Ivy said, and I nodded.

  Ivy went silent. I felt drained. I'd said what I had to say.
I only hoped we could find a way to live with it.

  "You don't want me to leave," Ivy said, and I shook my head. "And you don't want me to bite you," she added, looking at the coffee clasped between her hands.

  "No, I said I can't let you bite me. There's a difference."

  She was smiling thinly when she brought her gaze to mine, and I couldn't help but meet it with my own weak version. "There is, isn't there," she said. Her posture shifted, and she exhaled long and slow. "Thank you," she whispered. I froze when she hesitantly touched my arm and then drew back. "Thank you for being honest."

  Thank you? I stared at her. "I thought you'd be pissed."

  She wiped her face and put her attention on the skylights to make her pupils contract. "Part of me is," she said lightly. My pulse quickened, and my grip tightened on my cup. Sensing my movement, Ivy looked at me. The ring of brown around her pupils was shrinking, but she was still smiling. "But you aren't leaving."

  Wary, I nodded. "This isn't me playing hard to get. I mean it, Ivy. I can't."

  Her shoulders lost their stiffness, and she half turned to look at the people around us. "I know. I saw how scared you were when you thought you were bound. Someone tried to blood-rape you."

  I recalled my terror, how she had comforted me with security and understanding, telling me it was okay. What we had shared in those brief moments was almost stronger than the blood ecstasy. Maybe that's what she was getting at. Maybe that's what was important here.

  Shoulders slumped in an unusual show of fatigue, she leaned forward. With her hair almost brushing my shoulders, she whispered, "If you aren't staying because I might bite you, then you are staying because you like me."

  Taking a sip of coffee, she started down the hall, pace confident and slow.

  My mouth opened in an O, and I jumped to follow. "Uh, wait a moment, Ivy."

  Still she smiled. "You like me, not the way the damned vampire pheromones make you feel when I bite you. I can get blood from anyone, but if you keep saying no, then it's me you like. Knowing that is worth the frustration."

  She took the lid off her coffee and threw it away as we passed a trash can. I tried to watch her face and my footing to keep from knocking anyone as we neared the main doors and the traffic increased. Her expression was calm and peaceful. The lines of worry and uncertainty that had looked so wrong there were gone. She had found peace. It might not be the peace she wanted, but it was peace. I, though, was never one to leave anything alone. "So…are we okay?"

  Ivy's smile was full of private emotion. Free arm swinging confidently, she parted the way with her sheer presence and people turned to look at her. "Yeah," she said, looking ahead.

  My pulse was fast, and I felt the tension pulling me stiff. "Ivy…"

  "Shhhhh," she breathed, and I jerked to a halt when she stopped at the doors and turned to put a finger to my lips. Her eyes were inches from mine, and I stared at them, shocked. "Don't ruin it, Rachel," she added, drawing away. "Leave me with a little make-believe to keep myself sane across the hall from you."

  "I'm not going to sleep with you," I said, wanting to make that perfectly clear, and the man coming in gave us a once-over.

  "Yeah, I know," she said lightly. Pushing the door open, she went outside. "How was your run with David yesterday?"

  I looked at her suspiciously as we stepped into the sun, not trusting this. "David wants me to get a pack tattoo," I said cautiously as I pulled the windblown hair from my mouth.

  "So what are you getting?" she said cheerfully. "A bat?"

  As I walked beside her and told her what I had in mind while we searched for my car, I realized how much our failed blood tryst had been preying on her. She had royally messed up. She had thought I'd been ashamed of her and was going to leave. But we were still friends and nothing had changed.

  But as we got into my car and put the top down to enjoy the sun, I found my fingers creeping up to feel the red-rimmed bites, still swollen and sore. Recalling the sensation of our auras becoming one, I shivered.

  Well, almost nothing had changed.

  Nineteen

  The crack of pool balls was pleasant, reminding me of early mornings at Kisten's dance club while I waited for him to finish up with the stragglers and spend some time with me. Eyes shut against the heat of the overhead light, I could almost smell the lingering aroma a hundred partying vampires left behind, mixing with good food, good wine, and just a hint of Brimstone.

  No, I didn't have a problem. I wasn't addicted at all. Nope. Not me. But when I opened my eyes and saw Ivy, I wondered.

  Doesn't matter, I thought as I went to take my shot and felt the skin around the marks Ivy had put in me pull. This afternoon I might have been scared to tell Ivy she wasn't going to break my skin again, but I'd done it. And it felt good. Like we had really made progress, even though neither of us was going to get what we wanted.

  Warming, I focused on the yellow-striped nine as I lined the shot up. So it was Halloween and I was stuck home in jeans and a red top handing out candy instead of wearing leather and lace, bar-hopping with Ivy. At least I was with friends. Holding to my new smart-but-dull-Rachel mission statement, I wasn't ready to trust Tom to do the intelligent thing, and though I was regularly stepping off hallowed ground to raid the fridge, risking a roomful of drunk potential casualties just so I could have a fun night out was a little much.

  Ivy agreed, not at all surprised when I told her Tom Bansen of the I.S.'s Arcane Division was the one summoning and releasing Al to kill me. Actually, she laughed, noting, "Least it wasn't crap-for-brains." I was still toying with the idea of filing a demon complaint with the I.S., if only to avoid that spell shop bill, but Ivy said it would be cheaper healthwise to let sleeping demons lie. If nothing happened this next week, I might let it go, but if Al came at me again, I was going to let Tom have it right where it hurt—in the checkbook.

  Apart from the annoyance of being stuck home on Halloween, I was in a good mood. Jenks and I were manning the door, and Ivy was in the corner watching a post-Turn comedy classic with lots of chainsaws and a stump grinder. Marshal hadn't called, but after yesterday, I wasn't surprised. My mild disappointment only affirmed my belief that I needed to back off before he slipped into boyfriend status. I really didn't need the trouble.

  Exhaling, I tapped the cue ball. It hit the dip by the corner and wobbled into the nine, hitting it perfectly wrong.

  The doorbell bonged as I straightened, followed by a chorus of "Trick or treat!"

  From under a ceiling of paper bats, Ivy's eyes flicked to mine, and I jerked into motion. "Got it," I said as I propped the cue stick against the wall and headed into the dark foyer with the huge bowl of candy. Ivy had filled the unlit entryway with candles to make it suitably creepy. We had turned the lights off in the sanctuary before midnight to impress the human kids, but now it was all Inderlanders and we didn't bother. A dark candlelit church didn't impress them half as much as a bowl of sugar and chocolate.

  "Jenks?" I questioned, and a tight wing hum hit my ear.

  "Ready!" he said, then let out an unreal wing chirp to pantomime a squeaky hinge when I opened the door. It was enough to make my teeth hurt, and the assembled kids complained loudly as they covered their ears. Damn pixy was worse than a Were's nails on a chalkboard.

  "Trick or treat!" the kids chimed out when they recovered, but it wasn't until they saw Jenks glowing over the candy bowl that their expressions lit in delight, as charmed as the next person by a people-loving pixy. I had to crouch so the littlest one, in a fairy costume with illusionary wings, could reach. She was sweet, wide-eyed, and eager. It was probably the first Halloween she would remember, and I now understood why my mom loved manning the door. Watching the parade of costumes and delighted kids was well worth the sixty bucks I'd spent on candy.

  "Ring the bell! Ring the bell!" a kid in a dragon costume demanded as he pointed to the ceiling, and after I set the bowl aside, I reached for the pull, grunting as I yanked the knot almost to my knees
. They stared at me in the surprising silence as the rope was jerked back up. An instant later, a deep bong reverberated over the neighborhood.

  The kids squealed and clapped, and I shooed them off the stoop, wondering how Bis was handling the noise. In the distance, I heard the faint sound of two more bells from neighboring churches. It was a good feeling—like a distant affirmation of safety and community—and I watched the kids file down to the street to join their moms with strollers and wagons. In the street, vans prowled, creeping slowly amid the flashing lights and flapping costumes. Jenks's carved pumpkin glowed at the base of the stairs like Al's face itself. Damn, I loved Halloween.

  Smiling, I waited with the door open until Jenks finished lighting the stairs for the youngest. Across the street, Keasley was sitting on his porch alone to hand out candy. Ceri had left at sunset for the basilica to pray for Quen, walking the distance as if in penance. My brow pinched, and as I shut the door, I wondered if things were really that bad. Maybe I shouldn't have refused to see him after all.

  "Ivy, you want a game?" I asked, tired of hitting the same balls around. She at least could sink them.

  She looked up and shook her head. There was a clipboard on her drawn-up knees as she sat with her back to the arm of the couch. A broken mug filled with colored pencils was next to her, and she was trying to force spreadsheets and flowcharts to give us the answer as to who killed Kisten. My realization that it had been a man had revitalized her, and her night investigating yesterday had turned up only that Piscary had given Kisten to someone outside the camarilla. That meant we'd be looking for Kisten's killer outside the city, since Piscary wouldn't have given him to a lesser, local vampire. It was only a matter of time though before we'd know who it had been. When Ivy set her sights on prey, she never let go. No matter how long it took.

  I ambled over to bug Ivy, since it was her favorite part of the movie and she needed a break. "Just one game," I prodded. "I'll rack 'em."