A Fistful of Charms (53 page)

My eyes closed in the swirl of conflicting feelings. The image of me sharing a room with Ivy flitted through my mind, shocking me. Of me slipping between those silken sheets and sliding up to her back, smelling her hair, feeling her turn over and seeing her easy smile four inches from mine. I knew how her eyes would be lidded and heavy with sleep, the soft sound of welcome she would make.
What in hell was I doing?

“She's rash,” Kisten said, “impulsive, and the most caring person I have ever met. She told me what happened, but she doesn't think anything less of you, or herself, even when it went wrong.”

“Shut up,” Ivy whispered, pain and self-reproach in her voice.

“You opened the door,” he accused, making her come to grips with what we had done. “And if you don't walk her through it, she'll find someone who will. I don't have to ask your permission. And unless you tell me right now that someday you're going to try to find a blood balance with her, I will if she asks me.”

I shivered, jerking when a soft brush on my leg made me jump. It was Rex, but I was little more to her than something to brush up against as she headed to the living room, following the sound of Ivy's distress.

“I can't!” Ivy exclaimed, and I jumped. “Piscary…” She took a gasping breath. “Piscary will step in and he'll make me hurt her, maybe kill her.”

“
That's
an excuse,” he hammered on her. “The truth is that you're scared.”

I stood in the hallway and trembled, feeling the tension rise in the unseen room. But Kisten's voice was gentle now that he'd gotten her to admit her feelings. “You should tell her that,” he continued softly.

Ivy sniffed, half in sorrow, half in bitter amusement. “I just did. She's in the hall.”

I sucked in my breath and jerked upright.

“Shit,” Kisten said, his voice panicked. “Rachel?”

Pulling up my shoulders, I raised my chin and went into the kitchen. Kisten scuffed to a halt in the hall, and tension slammed into me. His lanky build, wide shoulders, and my favorite red silk shirt took up the archway. He had on boots, and they looked good peeping from under his jeans. His bracelet felt heavy on me, and I twisted it, wondering if I should take it off.

“Rachel, I didn't know you were there,” he said, his face creased. “I'm sorry. You aren't a toy that I have to ask Ivy's permission to play with.”

I kept my back to him, shoulders stiff while I opened the canvas sack and took things out. Leaving the cheese, mushrooms, and the pineapple where they were, I strode to the pantry, hanging my grocery bag up on the hook I'd nailed in yesterday. Images of Ivy's comfortable room, of Kisten's face, his body, the way he felt under my fingers, the way he made me feel, all flashed through me. Pace stilted, I went to the stove and took the lid off the sauce. Steam billowed up, the rising scent of tomato making the wisps of my hair drift. I stirred without seeing as he came up behind me. “Rachel?”

My breath came out, and I held the next one. I was so confused.

Softly—almost not there—Kisten put a hand on my shoulder. Tension slipped from me, and sensing it, he leaned until his body pressed against my back. His arms went around me, imprisoning me, and my motions to stir the pot stilled. “She knew the moment I came in,” I said.

“Probably,” he whispered into my ear.

I wondered where Ivy was—if she had stayed in the living room or fled the church entirely, shamed that she had needs and fears like the rest of us. Kisten took the spoon from me, setting it between the burners before turning me around. I pulled my eyes to his, not surprised to see them narrow with concern. The glow from the overhead light shimmered on his day-old stubble, and I touched it because I could. His arms were about my waist, and he gave a tug, settling me closer into him. “What she can't say to your face, she'll say when she knows you're listening,” he said. “It's a bad habit she picked up in therapy.”

I had already figured that one out, and bobbed my head. “This is a mess,” I said, miserable as I looked over his shoulder to the dark hallway. “I never should have—”

My words cut off when Kisten pulled me closer. Arms about his waist and my head against his chest, I breathed deeply the scent of leather and silk, relaxing into him. “Yes,” he whispered. “You should have.” He pushed me back until I could see his eyes. “I won't ask,” he said earnestly. “If it happens, it happens. I like things the way they are.” His expression grew sly. “I'd like it better if things changed, but when change is too quick, the strong break.”

My eyes on the archway, I stood and held him, not wanting to let go. I could hear Ivy in the living room, trying to find a way to make a graceful entrance. The warmth of his body was soothing, and I held my breath against the thought of his teeth sinking into me. I knew exactly how good it would feel.
What was I going to do about that?

Kisten's head came up an instant before the peal of the
front doorbell echoed through the church. “I got it!” Ivy shouted, and Kisten and I pulled apart before her boots made a soft brush down the hall. The light flicked on in the hallway, and I heard the beginnings of a low conversation. The mushrooms needed cutting, and Kisten joined me as I washed my hands. We jostled for space at the sink, bumping hips as he pushed me into a better mood.

“Cut them at an angle,” he admonished when I reached for the cutting board. He had his hands in the flour bag, then clapped them once over the sink before putting himself at the center island counter and the ball of dough he had set to rise under a piece of linen.

“It makes a difference?” Still melancholy, I moved my stuff to the opposite side of the counter so I could watch him. “David?” I shouted, eating the first mushroom slice. It was probably him, seeing as I'd asked him to come over.

A low noise escaped Kisten, and I smiled. He looked good over there. A brush of flour made a domestic smear on his shirt, and he had rolled up his sleeves to show his lightly tanned arms. Seeing him gently handling the dough and watching me at the same time, I realized the thrill was back—the delicious danger of what-if. He had told Ivy he wasn't going to walk away from me; I was on dangerous ground. Again.

God save me.
I thought in disgust.
Could I
be
any more stupid?
My life was so messed up. How could I just stand here and cut mushrooms as if everything was normal? But compared to last week, maybe this
was
normal.

My attention came up when David walked in ahead of Ivy, his slight build looking blocky before her sleek grace. “Hi, David,” I said, trying to clear my mind. “Full moon tonight.”

He nodded, saying nothing as he took in Kisten casually pulling the dough into a circle. “I can't stay,” he said, realizing we were making lunch. “I have a few appointments, but you said it was urgent?” He smiled at Kisten. “Hi, Kisten. How's the boat?”

“Still afloat,” he said, eyebrows rising as he took in David's
expensive suit. He was working, and he looked the part despite the heavy stubble the full moon made worse.

“It won't take long,” I said, slicing the last mushroom. “I've got something I want you to take a look at. Picked it up on vacation, and I want your opinion.”

His eyes went wondering, but he unbuttoned his long leather duster. “Now?”

“Full moon,” I said cryptically, sliding the sliced mushrooms into my smallest spell pot and quashing the faint worry that I was breaking rule number two by mixing food prep and spell prep, but they were just the right size to hold toppings. Ivy quietly went to the fridge, getting out the cheese, cooked hamburger, and the bacon left over from breakfast. I tried to meet her eyes to tell her we were okay, but she wouldn't look at me.

Angry, I slammed the knife down, careful to keep my fingers out of the way.
Silly little vamp, afraid of her feelings.

Kisten sighed, his eyes on the disk of dough he had tossed professionally into the air, “Someday, I'm going to get you two ladies together.”

“I don't do threesomes,” I said snidely.

David jerked, but Kisten's eyes went sultry and pensive, even as he caught the dough. “That's not what I was talking about, but okay.”

Ivy's cheeks were red, and David froze as he took in the sudden tension. “Uh,” the Were said, half out of his coat. “Maybe this isn't a good time.”

I dredged up a smile. “No,” I said. “It's just everyday normal crap. We're used to it.”

David finished taking off his coat, frowning. “I'm not,” he muttered.

I went to the sink and leaned toward the window, thinking David was a bit of a prude. “Jenks!” I shouted into the dusky garden, alight with pixy children tormenting moths. It was beautiful, and I almost lost myself in the sifting bands of falling color.

A clatter of wings was my only warning, and I jerked away
when Jenks vaulted through the pixy hole in the screen. “David!” he called out, looking great in his casual gardening clothes of green and black. Hovering at eye level, he brought the scent of damp earth into the kitchen. “Thank Tink's little red shoes you're here,” he said, pulling up two feet when Rex appeared in the doorway, her eyes big and her ears pricked. “Matalina is about ready to dewing me. You gotta get this thing out of my living room. My kids keep touching it. Making it move.”

I felt myself blanch. “It's moving now?”

Ivy and Kisten exchanged worried looks, and David sighed, putting his hands into his pockets as if trying to divorce himself from what was coming. He wasn't that much older than me, but at that moment he looked like the only adult in a room full of adolescents. “What is it, Rachel?” he said, sounding tired.

Suddenly nervous, I took a breath to tell him, then changed my mind. “Could you…could you just take a look at it?” I said, wincing.

Jenks landed on the windowsill and leaned casually against the frame. He looked like Brad Pitt gone sexy farmer, and I smiled. Two weeks ago he would have stood with his hands on his hips. This was better, and might explain Matalina's blissful state lately.

“I'll have the boys bring it up,” Jenks said, tossing his hair out of his eyes. “We've got a sling for it. Won't take but a tick, David.”

He zipped back out the window, and while David looked at his watch and moved from foot to foot, I pushed the window all the way up, struggling with the rain-swollen frame. The screen popped out, and the air suddenly seemed a lot fresher.

“This doesn't have anything to do with the Were sentry at the end of the block, does it?” David asked wryly.

Whoops.
I turned, my eyes going immediately to Ivy, sitting before her computer. I hadn't told her Brett was shadowing me, knowing she'd throw a hissy.
Like I couldn't handle one Were who was scared of me?
Sure enough, she
was frowning. “You saw him, huh?” I said, putting my back to her and moving the sauce to Kisten.

David shifted his weight and glanced at Kisten as he nonchalantly spread it thinly on the dough. “I saw him,” David said. “Smelled him, and nearly dropped my cell phone down the sewer calling you to ask if you wanted me to, ah, ask him to go away until he…mmmm.”

I waited in the new silence broken by shrill pixy whistles coming from the garden. David's face was red when he swung his head back up and rubbed a hand across his stubble.

“What?” I said warily.

David looked discomfited. “He, ah…” A quick glance at Ivy, and he blurted, “He gave me a bunny kiss from across the street.”

Ivy's lips parted. Eyes wide, her gaze touched on Kisten, then me. “Excuse me?”

“You know.” He made a peace sign and bent his fingers twice in quick succession. “Kiss, kiss? Isn't that a vampire…thing?”

Kisten laughed, the warm sound making me feel good. “Rachel,” he said, sifting the cheese over the red sauce. “What did you do to make him leave his pack and follow you all the way down here? By the looks of it, I'd say he's trying to insinuate himself into your pack.”

“Brett didn't leave. I think they kicked him out,” I said, then hesitated. “You knew he was there, too?” I asked, and he shrugged, eating a piece of bacon. I ate one too, considering for the first time that perhaps Brett was looking for a new pack. I had saved his life. Sort of.

Jenks came in the open window, making circles around Rex until the cat chittered in distress. Laughing, Jenks led her into the hall as five of his kids wafted over the sill, toting what looked like a pair of black lace panties cradling the statue.

“Those are mine!” Ivy shrieked, standing up and darting to the sink. “Jenks!”

The pixies scattered. The statue wrapped in the black silk fell into her hand.

“These are mine!” she said again, red with anger and embarrassment as she pulled them off the statue and shoved them in her pocket. “Damn it, Jenks! Stay out of my room!”

Jenks flew in just under the ceiling. Rex padded in under him, her steps light and her eyes bright. “Holy crap!” he exclaimed, making circles around Ivy, wreathing her in a glittering band of gold. “How did your panties end up in my living room?”

Matalina zipped in, her green silk dress furling and her eyes apologetic. Immediately, Jenks joined her. I don't know if it was his joy of reuniting with Matalina or his stint at being human-sized, but he was a lot faster. With her was Jhan, a solemn, serious-minded pixy who had recently been excused from sentry duties in order to learn how to read. I didn't want to think about why.

Ivy dropped the new focus onto the counter beside the pizza, clearly in a huff as she backed away and sat sullenly in her chair, her boots on the table and her ankles crossed. David came closer, and this time I couldn't stop my shudder. Jenks was right. It had shifted again.