Ivy didn't say anything more about Kist, for which I was grateful. It was embarrassing how quickly vamp pheromones acted on me, turning "get lost" to "get over here." Thanks to the excessive amount of vamp saliva the demon pumped into me while trying to kill me, my resistance to vamp pheromones was almost nil.
Glenn carefully put his elbows on the table. "You haven't told me how class went."
Jenks laughed. "It was hell on earth. Two hours of non-stop nitpicking and putdowns."
My mouth dropped open. "How do you know that?"
"I snuck back in. What did you do to that woman, Rachel? Kill her cat?"
My face burned. Knowing Jenks had witnessed it made it worse. "The woman is a hag," I said. "Glenn, if you want to string her up for killing those people, you go right ahead. She already knows she's a suspect. The I.S. was there stirring her into a tizzy. I didn't find anything that remotely resembled possible motive or guilt."
Glenn pulled his arms from the table and sat back. "Nothing?"
I shook my head. "Just that Dan had an interview after Friday's class. I'm thinking that was the big news he was going to spring on Sara Jane."
"He dropped all his classes Friday night," Jenks said. "Just made the add/drop with a full refund. Must have done it by e-mail."
I squinted up at the pixy sitting by the lightbulbs to stay warm. "How do you know?"
His wings blurred to nothing and he grinned. "I checked out the registrar's office during class break. You think the only reason I went was to look pretty on your shoulder?"
Ivy drummed her fingernails. "You three aren't going to talk shop all night, are you?"
"Ivy girl!" came a strong voice, and we all looked up. A short, spare man in a cook's apron was making a beeline for us from across the restaurant, weaving gracefully through the tables. "My Ivy girl!" he called over the noise. "Back already. And with friends!"
I glanced at Ivy, surprised to see a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks. Ivy girl?
"Ivy girl?" Jenks said from on high. "What the hell is that?"
Ivy rose to give him an embarrassed-looking hug as he halted before us, making an odd picture since he was nearly six inches smaller than she was. He returned it with a fatherly pat on the back. My eyebrows rose. She hugged him?
The cook's black eyes glittered in what looked like pleasure. The scent of tomato paste and blood drifted to me. He was clearly a practicing vamp. I couldn't tell yet if he was dead.
"Hi, Piscary," Ivy said as she sat, and Jenks and I exchanged looks. This was Piscary? One of Cincinnati's most powerful vamps? I'd never seen such an innocuous looking vampire.
Piscary was actually an inch or two shorter than I was, and he carried his slight, well-proportioned build with a comfortable ease. His nose was narrow, and his wide-spaced, almond-shaped eyes and thin lips added to his exotic appearance. His eyes were very dark, and they shone as he took his chef's hat off and tucked it behind his apron ties. He kept his skull clean-shaven, and his honey-amber skin glinted in the light from over our table. The lightweight, pale shirt and pants he wore might have been off-the-rack, but I doubted it. They gave him the air of comfortable middle class, his eager smile enforcing the picture in my mind. Piscary ran much of the darker side of Cincinnati, but looking at him, I wondered how.
My usual healthy distrust of undead vamps sank to a wary caution. "Piscary?" I asked. "As in Pizza Piscary's?"
The vampire smiled, showing his teeth. They were longer than Ivy's - he was a true undead - and looked very white next to his dusky completion. "Yes, Pizza Piscary's is mine." His voice was deep for such a small frame, and it seemed to carry the strength of sand and wind. The faint remnants of an accent made me wonder how long he had been speaking English.
Ivy cleared her throat, jerking my attention away from his quick, dark eyes. Somehow the sight of his teeth hadn't instilled my usual knee-jerk alarm. "Piscary," Ivy said, "this is Rachel Morgan and Jenks, my business associates."
Jenks had flitted down to the hot-pepper shakers, and Piscary gave him a nod before turning to me. "Rachel Morgan," he said slowly and with care. "I've been waiting for my Ivy girl to bring you to see me. I think she's afraid I'll tell her she can't play with you anymore." His lips curved into a smile. "I'm charmed."
I held my breath as he took my hand with a high gentility that stood in sharp contrast to his looks. He lifted my fingers, bringing them close to his lips. His dark eyes were fixed on mine. My pulse quickened, but I felt as if my heart were somewhere else. He inhaled over my hand, as if scenting the blood humming within them. I stifled a shiver by clenching my jaw.
Piscary's eyes were the color of black ice. I boldly returned his gaze, intrigued at the hints beyond their depths. It was Piscary who looked away first, and I quickly pulled my hand from him. He was good. Really good. He had used his aura to charm rather than frighten. Only the old ones could do that. And there hadn't been even a twinge from my demon scar. I didn't know whether to take that as a good sign or bad.
Laughing good-naturedly at my sudden, obvious suspicion, Piscary sat down on the bench beside Ivy as three waiters struggled to get by with round platters. Glenn didn't seem at all upset Ivy hadn't introduced him, and Jenks kept his mouth shut. My shoulder pressed into Glenn as he shoved me down until I was nearly hanging off the edge to make room for Piscary.
"You should have told me you were coming," Piscary said. "I'd have saved you a table."
Ivy shrugged. "We got one okay."
Half turning, Piscary looked to the bar and shouted, "Bring up a bottle of red from the Tamwood cellar!" A sly grin came over him. "Your mother won't miss one."
Glenn and I exchanged a worried look. A bottle of red? "Uh, Ivy?" I questioned.
"Oh, good God," she said. "It's wine. Relax."
Relax, I thought. Easier said than done with my rear hanging half off the seat and surrounded by vampires.
"Have you ordered?" Piscary asked Ivy, but his gaze was on me, suffocating. "I have a new cheese that uses a just-discovered species of mold to age. All the way from the Alps."
"Yes," Ivy said. "An extra large - "
"With everything but onions and peppers," he finished, showing his teeth in a wide smile as he turned from me to her.
My shoulders slumped as his gaze left me. He looked like nothing more than a friendly pizza chef, and it was setting off more alarm bells than if he had been tall, thin, and slunk about seductively in lace and silk.
"Ha!" he barked, and I stifled my jump. "I'm going to make you dinner, Ivy girl."
Ivy smiled to look like a ten-year-old. "Thank you, Piscary. I'd like that."
" 'Course you would. Something special. Something new. On the house. It will be my finest creation!" he said boldly. "I will name it after you and your shadow."
"I'm not her shadow," Glenn said tightly, shoulders hunched and his eyes on the table.
"I wasn't talking about you," Piscary said, and my eyes widened.
Ivy stirred uneasily. "Rachel... isn't my shadow ...either."
She sounded guilty, and an instant of confusion crossed the old vamp's face. "Really?" he said, and Ivy visibly tensed. "Then what are you doing with her, Ivy girl?"
She wouldn't look up from the table. Piscary caught my eye again. My heart pounded as a faint tingle rippled across my neck at my demon bite. Suddenly the table was too crowded. I felt pressed upon at all sides, and the claustrophobic feeling beat at me. Shocked at the change, my breath left me and I held the next one. Damn.
"That's an interesting scar on your neck," Piscary said, his voice seeming to scour my soul. It hurt and felt good all at the same time. "Is it vamp?"
My hand rose unbidden to hide it. Jenks's wife had sewn me up, and the tiny stitches were almost invisible. I didn't like that he had noticed them. "It's demon," I said, not caring if Glenn told his dad. I didn't want Piscary thinking I'd been bitten by a vamp, Ivy or otherwise.
Piscary arched his eyebrows in a mild surprise. "It looks vampiric."
"So did the demon at the time," I said, my stomach tightening in the memory.
The old vamp nodded. "Ah, that would explain it." He smiled, chilling me. "A ravaged virgin whose blood has been left unclaimed. What a delectable combination you are, Ms. Morgan. No wonder my Ivy girl has been hiding you from me."
My mouth opened, but I could think of nothing to say.
He stood with no warning. "I'll have your dinner out in a moment." Leaning to Ivy, he murmured, "Talk to your mother. She misses you."
Ivy dropped her eyes. With a casual grace, Piscary snagged a stack of plates and breadsticks from a passing tray. "Enjoy your evening," he said as he set them on our table. He made his way back to the kitchen, stopping several times to greet the more well-dressed patrons.
I stared at Ivy, waiting for an explanation. "Well?" I said bitingly. "You want to explain why Piscary thinks I'm your shadow?"
Jenks snickered, taking his hands-on-hips Peter Pan poseatop the pepper shaker. Ivy shrugged in obvious guilt. "He knows we live under the same roof. He just assumed - "
"Yeah, I got it." Annoyed, I chose a breadstick and slumped against the wall. Ivy's and my arrangement was odd no matter what angle you looked at it. She was trying to abstain from blood, the lure to break her fast almost irresistible. As a witch, I could fend her off with my magic when her instincts got the better of her. I had dropped her once with a charm, and it was that memory that helped her master her cravings and keep her on her side of the hallway.
But what bothered me was that it was shame that made her let Piscary believe what he wanted - shame for turning her back on her heritage. She didn't want it. With a roommate, she could lie to the world, pretending she had a normal vamp life with a live-in source of blood yet remain true to her guilty secret. I told myself I didn't care, that it protected me against other vamps. But sometimes... Sometimes it rankled me that everyone assumed I was Ivy's toy.