by Kim Harrison
“Thank you,” Ivy whispered, her motion slow as she balled up her ecofriendly napkin. Taking a deep breath, I could almost see her focus on the “now.” “It was a rough night. It took six of us to hold her down when the bloodlust hit her. If this goes okay, I’m going to try to be there when she wakes up so she knows I’m . . . okay.”
She couldn’t look at me, and I wished she wasn’t so ashamed of what we had to do to survive. We all fell. What mattered was what we did after that. “Tell Nina for me that she can do this, okay? That it’s worth it.” That you’re worth it.
“I will,” she whispered. “Next time I see her. Thank you.”
Tears pricked my eyes, but I was smiling and so was she. Nina was strong. She would survive. I never would have thought that Ivy would ever be on the other end of the addiction, and I was proud of her.
Ivy’s gaze flicked past me. She didn’t move, but something shifted in her, a predator’s quiet breath slipped in and out, and I suppressed a shudder. Just that fast, everything changed.
Reaching for a napkin, I pretended to dab my mouth as I turned to the line. “Is that her?” I said, seeing a blonde with her sweater cut low and her spring skirt cut high. She was in a tight jacket, and she seemed to know everyone behind the counter, talking loud and cheerful as she flirted, waiting for her turn.
Ivy was already reaching for her purse. “Yes,” she said, standing up and not looking at her. “Five minutes to eight. Right on time.”
Jenks dropped down, his wings giving me a bare instant of warning. “She came in in the blue Mustang,” he said, still picking napkin from between his fingers. “I think it’s new since the cover is open. It’s too cold for that unless it’s your first convertible. I’ll get you the keys, Ivy. You’re going to want that top closed.”
“Thanks,” she said, giving me a soft smile before she turned away and breezed out, coming within inches of the woman.
I stood as the blond woman shivered as if chilled. “Chicken,” I berated Jenks as I moved to get in line right behind her.
“You think I’m going to get involved in that heart-to-heart women crap?” he said as he snuggled in behind my scarf. “Hell, no! Aw, she’s sweet! You sure we have to lock her in the trunk?”
When I’m done with her, she’s going to be more pissed than a cat in a well, I thought as I took a quick step back from her as she ordered. I was afraid if I got too close, I might catch whatever cheerful bug had infected her. It was too early to be that sickeningly bouncy, but I suppose if your job required you to dress as a professional distraction, a happy disposition might be an asset. Right now, she was making me ill on smile overload.
“Holy toad piss,” Jenks muttered. “This woman is even bouncier than you after you’ve got some, Rache.”
“Shut up, Jenks.”
“I haven’t seen you like that in . . . hell, how long has it been?”
“Shut up!” I muttered, tightening my scarf until he called uncle, laughing at me. It had been a while, and even worse, it had been with Pierce. Everyone I had sex with died. Except Marshal, and that had only been because he left in time.
Adrenaline hit me when Ms. Bouncy-Hair finished her transaction, catching my eye as she moved to the pickup counter. She must have heard me telling Jenks to shut up, but being the crazy woman would only help, and I gave her a neutral smile and hitched my shoulder bag higher. Sweet or not, she was our fast and dirty ticket into the museum and behind security doors. I hated locking people in their own trunks. Except for Francis. That had been fun.
I was still wearing my smile as I stepped up to the counter. “Ah, two grandes, black. A skinny chai tea tall, and a vanilla grande with a shot of pumpkin in it if you still have it.” I knew they did. The drinks I ordered were was the exact same ones Ms. Bouncy-Hair had ordered, right down to the size. “Oh, and can you put it all in a to-go bag? Thanks.”
“Got it,” the barista said, never looking up, never noticing it was a duplicate order. Junior would have, and I was glad he wasn’t here.
I handed the barista a bill to cover it, turning around to see the blue Mustang in the parking lot, the top still open to the sky. “Thank you,” I said around a yawn as he gave me my change. Eight? Was it really eight? Adrenaline or not, this was an insane time to be up. That was humanity’s problem right there. They were brain damaged from the early sun.
“Ah, Rache?” Jenks whispered, poking me in the neck, and I jumped, giving the barista a faint smile as I moved down.
I stood just inside most people’s personal zone, and sure enough, Ms. Bouncy-Hair noticed, shifting down a smidge. My pulse quickened. I couldn’t help it. Maybe I was as bad as Ivy. When the woman’s order slid onto the counter in one of those paper trays, I was ready.
“Thanks, Bill!” she called out cheerfully, reaching for it as I leaned in as if going for it too. The woman got there first, her hands full of hot coffee as she turned, smashing right into my upraised hand. It would have gone all over me, but I was the one planning accidents, and with a little flip, it went down her front instead.
“What the fuck!” the woman exclaimed, staggering back with her entire order spilled on the floor. Well, not all of it, and her pink V-neck sweater was now an ugly brown.
“Ooh, mouthy,” Jenks said, and I heard him take to the air, wings clattering.
My shock was fake, but it looked real enough. I’d had plenty of practice. “Oh, my gosh!” I exclaimed, standing there with my eyes wide and hands up in the helpless-me position. “I am so-o-o-o sorry!”
The baristas were already moving to mop it up, and she dropped back to the tables and chairs, disgust swamping her. “Bill, can I have another set?” she said, and then muttered at me, “Why don’t you watch where you’re going,” as if embarrassed for the F bomb she’d dropped.
She was on the defensive, and that was fine with me. It didn’t make the guilt any less, but it did tend to put it off till later.
“Oh my God, I’m so, so sorry,” I said, grabbing napkins like mad and shoving them at her. “Here, let me give you my address,” I said, head down and fumbling in my bag as she took them, dabbing at her front until she realized it was useless. Jenks was at the ceiling, and I dumped my bag out to distract her when the napkins hadn’t done it. “I’ve got a card in here somewhere. Send me the bill for your cleaning. Oh, that’s got angora in it, doesn’t it? I can tell.”
“Seriously, it’s okay,” she said, but she was watching me now, not Jenks in her purse. Hell, everyone was watching me. Ivy and Jenks had helped me stock my bag, and the tampons, diaphragm, jumbo condoms, and fuzzy cuffs that Jenks had picked out were garnering snickers.
“I am such a klutz,” I said, snatching up the pen Ivy had given me from a Hollows strip joint. I scribbled the downtown bus depot’s address on a matchbook.
“No, really, it’s okay,” she said, hand up to keep me at arm’s length. Her expression was a mix of disgust and contempt. I was a doofus, and everyone could tell.
“Please, just take it,” I said, and she finally did just to shut me up. “I must have been half asleep.” My order came up in its bag, and the woman realized she was going to have to go home and change. I could see it in her eyes. Behind her in the parking lot, the top was almost closed. “At least let me pay for your drinks!” I said, reaching out as if I was going to take her arm.
She backed off fast. “I already paid for them,” she said, bouncy no more. Grimacing, she plucked at her sweater and looked at her watch. “Bill, I gotta go. Forget the coffee.”
“Catch you tomorrow, Barbie,” one called, and I almost choked. Barbie? Really? Was that legal?
But the car again had a roof. “Wait! Your coffee!” I exclaimed, taking my own bag of duplicate brew and following her.
“Look, it’s okay!” the woman said, starting to get angry as she headed for the door. “I have to go home and change. Just forget it, okay? Accidents happen.”
I hesitated, a forlorn expression on me as she stormed out. Accident
s do happen, especially when you plan for them. The chimes jingled merrily, and my eyes fell to my feet. “Well, I tried!” I said to everyone, then darted back to the counter and shoved everything back in my purse.
Hustling after her, I stiff-armed the door open. She was almost to her car, and she jerked when she saw me. “Really, it’s okay!” she said as if knowing I was going to follow. I almost smiled. My gaze slid to the nearby Dumpster, looking for a leprechaun catching a smoke beside it. Today I might risk accepting a free wish.
Jenks dropped down, and I fluffed my scarf as he snuggled in. “Hey, you think it’s gotten colder?” I asked him as we click-clacked to her, more to be sure he was watching his temps than any need for conversation.
Jenks tugged the scarf tighter around himself. “Dropped two degrees since this morning. We’ll be inside tonight.”
Adrenaline flowed, sweet and beautiful. She was standing at her car, fumbling for her missing keys in her cluttered purse. It was so easy to take someone. Really, it was astounding it didn’t happen more often. She was so frazzled she didn’t even remember the top had been open when she’d gone in.
“Here, take some money!” I said, arm out to her as I came forward. “I owe you for the drinks.”
“I said it was okay!” she shouted, clearly pissed. Still no keys in hand, she got in her car, thinking it was safer. The door slammed, and I stood there, tapping on the window. “Leave me the fuck alone!” she shouted, open purse on her lap. “My God, are you trying to pick me up?”
Ivy sat up from the backseat, a pale arm sliding around her neck. “No, we’re trying to abduct you,” she whispered. “There’s a difference. You’d have more fun if we were trying to pick you up.”
The woman took a breath to scream, and I tapped on her window, shaking my head.
“I wouldn’t,” Ivy breathed, her eyes a nice steady brown.
“Yeah!” Jenks shouted through the glass at her as he hovered at her eye level. “It will only get her excited. You won’t like her if you get her excited.”
“Unlock the door,” Ivy demanded, and Barbie fumbled for the lock, scared.
I opened the door, smiling now so she wouldn’t be so frightened, but it kind of backfired. “Slide over,” I said, gesturing. “Go on. You’re skinny. Get in the passenger seat.”
“Money?” she said, white-faced. “You want money? I don’t have any brimstone. Here, take my purse. Take it!”
“I’ve already been in your purse,” Jenks said from the dash. “You don’t have any.”
“Just slide over,” I said, concerned someone was going to notice me. “Now, Barbie, or I’ll turn you into a frog.”
Jenks’s wings clattered, his dust a happy silver. “She’ll do it!” he warned. “I used to be six feet tall.”
Ivy rolled her eyes, but the woman awkwardly moved over the console. “You really need to stop making up stupid names for people you come in contact with,” the vampire muttered, shifting with her. “It’s not respectful.”
Mood improved, I flipped the seat to put the bag of coffee on the floor. “That’s her real name,” I said as I got in, and Ivy winced.
“Sorry.”
“Please don’t hurt me!” Barbie said, really scared now, and I felt bad as I took the keys Ivy handed over the seat and started up the car with a satisfying rumble.
“Hurting you isn’t in the plan,” I said as I carefully backed up and put it in drive. “So please don’t do anything to change it. All we want is your car for a few hours, and then we will drop you off in downtown Cincinnati with a story that will get you a ghostwritten novel and a movie of the week. Okay?”
Barbie licked her lips. “You’re Rachel Morgan, aren’t you,” she said, eyes wide.
I met Ivy’s eyes in the rearview mirror, not sure if I should be flattered or not. Ivy shrugged, and when Jenks snickered, I turned to the woman, smiling my warmest.
“Yep, and you’re going to help us save the world. What’s your parking spot, Barbie?”
Chapter Twenty-One
“ But I want to help save the world!” Barbie said plaintively as I helped her into the backseat of the cab, my hand on her head so she didn’t hit anything. Her hands were bound with those fuzzy cuffs, and it made her balance chancy. “I can help. Oh God, don’t leave me here. It smells like bad tacos!”
My nose wrinkled, and I took her ID tag from around her neck and stuffed it in a back pocket. “Larry gets one of the no-frill blacks, Susan the pumpkin, and Frank the chai, right?”
Jenks hovered over the roof of the cab, impatient. “You’re gonna be late for your first day,” he warned.
“Yes, but I can help!” she insisted, and I leaned back in to wiggle her shoes off. I hadn’t worn the right heels, and the doppelgänger charm would only glamour me to look like her. It would be more convincing if we were the same height.
“Trust me,” I said as I shifted out of the backseat. “You’re helping. Really.”
I stood and looked over the empty park, hoping no one was watching from the town houses across the way. Ivy was bent over talking to the cabdriver, giving him a wad of cash and a peek at her cleavage as she told him to take the woman to the hospital—the mental hospital. By law, they had to give everyone who was dropped off an exam, and with the story Barbie had, they’d give her the long version. It was the best I could come up with on such short notice, not very nice, but better than stuffing her in the trunk of her car or leaving her tied up somewhere.
“Good?” I asked the driver, and he met my eyes through the rearview mirror, nodding.
“Wait!” Barbie cried, as I shut the door and she pounded on it with her fuzzy-cuffed wrists. “How will I know?” she shouted, muffled but understandable through the glass. I motioned for the driver to roll the window down, and she leaned toward me, breathless. “How will I know if you save the world?”
The really, really long version. “If we’re all still here Saturday, then it worked,” I said, then patted the top of the cab to let him know we were done.
“I want to help!” the woman cried as they drove off, and Ivy crossed the pavement to stand beside me. Jenks flitted close with a strand of Barbie’s hair, and using it, I primed the doppelgänger charm. The ley line up here was barely usable on the best of days, running right through the man-made ponds and under the Twin Lakes Bridge, but now, with the lines unbalanced and screaming in discord, it was awful.
I shuddered as I invoked the charm and dropped it into a pocket. Jenks made a long whistle, and Ivy nodded. I looked at my hands, seeing nothing different, but obviously they could. Even my voice would sound like hers. Illegal. Everything we were doing was illegal, and not for the first time, I wondered how I’d gotten to this place, doing illegal things to help Trent. Help him save the world.
Maybe I should be the one in the cab going to the hospital.
Seeing my mood, Ivy put an arm over my shoulders and turned me back to the cars. “You were nice,” Ivy said as we crossed the night-cooled pavement. “Nicer than I’d have been. She’ll have an interesting morning and be home for lunch. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
“I don’t like involving her,” I said as we came up to Barbie’s car. “And trying to be her is going to get us caught. I can’t be a real person.”
“Yeah,” Jenks said as he checked himself out in the side mirror. “She’s too bouncy.”
Frowning, I opened the door and sat down, my feet still on the pavement. “Have you ever tried to be someone you’re not?” I said as I pulled off my boots, tossing them into the back, and put on Barbie’s heels.
“All the time.” Ivy wasn’t looking at me, her eyes on the Hollows across the river.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, then used Barbie’s keys to start Barbie’s car. I didn’t like this. Not at all. But I needed those rings, and this was the only way to get them.
Ivy looked at me through the open window. I could still smell Barbie’s perfume, and it made me uncomfortable. “You okay with
this, or you want to scrap it right now?”
Jenks hovered behind her, and I put the car in reverse to back out. She knew as well as I there was no choice. Still, I stewed over it all the short drive to the art museum, becoming more and more angry. The only reason we were trying this on such short notice was because I was familiar with the layout. Nick had worked here, and he’d given me a private tour on more than one occasion. The entire basement was a maze of storage and offices, and that’s where the showpieces would be until the night before the exhibit opened.
Ivy was behind me in her mom’s blue Buick as I pulled into the museum’s parking lot. Knowing it would be what Barbie would do, I parked in a spot where no one would scratch the paint, finding a place that would be in the shade come noon. Ivy slowly drove past, headed for a spot closer to the door. She was going in as a patron and had a sketch pad and folding chair. Once I got downstairs, Jenks would give her my ID and she’d come down in the far elevator, clearing our exit en route.
The coffees were cold when I picked up the bag and slid out, and after locking the car, I crouched to put the key on the front wheel where I had promised Barbie I would leave it. Not wanting to ruin my story with cold coffee, I reached for a ley line and warmed them up with a charm, my thoughts firmly on the dark, bitter brew so I didn’t warm up, say, the radiator of the car. Ceri had taught me this one, and thoroughly unhappy, I stomped to the main entrance, the unfamiliar heels making me trip on the curb.
I didn’t look up as Jenks rejoined me, having ridden to the museum with Ivy. Silent, he worked his way past my hair, now down like Barbie had hers. “She’ll be fine,” Jenks said as he resettled himself behind the curtain of my hair.
I didn’t like that I was telegraphing so much, and I said nothing. Barbie probably wouldn’t come to work in black slacks and a sweater that covered her cleavage, but I had an excuse for that, too. Late, I took the stairs at a mincing hurry, fumbling for my ID.
“These heels are killing me,” I muttered to Jenks when I got to the top and the security guy cracked open the door for me.
