Chapter Twenty-two
Miserable, I wouldn't leave the van, afraid if I saw Ivy or Jenks I would blurt out what Nick had done. Some of my reticence was because I needed him to finish this run, and if they leaned on him hard, he might leave. Some of it was shame for having trusted him. Hell, most of it was. Nick had betrayed me on so many levels, and he didn't even get why I was upset. I hadn't been prepared for this. God! What an ass.
"I ought to give him back to the Weres," I whispered, but they had to see him die with the focus. There was no guarantee that he'd stop telling Al where I was ticklish, or that I sometimes hid the remote from Ivy just to get a rise out of her, or any of the hundreds of things I had shared with him when I thought I loved him. I shouldn't have trusted him. But I wanted to trust. Damn it, I deserved to be able to trust someone.
"Bastard," I muttered, wiping my eyes. "You son of a bitch bastard."
The chatter of the maids and the thumps of their cart as they wheeled it down the cracked sidewalk were soothing. It was past noon, and the motel was empty but for us. Being Wednesday, it would likely stay that way.
I lay curled up on the cot, my head on the clean smell of the borrowed hotel pillow, and my shoulders covered by the thin car blanket. I wasn't crying. I was not crying. Tears were leaking out as I waited for the ugly feelings to fade, but I wasn't crying, damn it!
Sniffing loudly, I reassured myself that I wasn't. My head hurt and my chest hurt, and I knew if I cared to unclench my hands from the blanket clutched under my chin that they would be trembling. So I lay there and wallowed, falling into a light doze as the heat of the day warmed the van. I barely heard the sound of Jenks and Jax returning to the room. But the shout filtering through the open door jerked me awake.
"I thought he was with you!" Ivy shouted. "Where is he?"
Jenks's response was unheard, and I jumped at the hammering on the van door. Sitting up, I put my sock feet on the floor, drained of emotion.
"Nick!" Ivy shouted. "Get your ass out here!"
Numb, I stood, grabbed the sliding door, and pulled it back with a crunch of metal to look at Ivy with bleary, empty eyes.
Ivy's anger froze, her eyes almost black as she scanned the van and saw me hunched under my blanket. The fog had lifted, and a cold breeze shifted the tips of her sin-black hair, shimmering in the light. Behind her, Jenks lingered in the doorway to the motel room, Jax on his shoulder, six bags with colorful logos in his grip and a question high in his eyes. "He's not here," I said, keeping my voice low so it wouldn't rasp.
"Oh God," Ivy whispered. "You've been crying. Where is he? What did he do to you?"
The protective tone in her voice hit me hard. Miserable, I turned away, my arms about my middle. She followed me in, the van unmoving when her weight hit it. "I'm fine," I said, feeling stupid. "He..." I took a deep breath and looked at my hands, perfect and unmarked. My soul was black, but my body was perfect. "He's been telling Al stuff about me in return for favors."
"He what!"
Jenks was suddenly beside her. "Jax, did you know about this?" he said tightly, the depth of his anger looking wrong on his youthful features.
"No, Dad," the small pixy said. "I only watched the one time."
Ivy's face was pale. "I'll kill him. Where is he? I'm killing him right now."
I took a breath, more grateful than I probably should have been that they would defend me like this. Maybe I was just trusting the wrong people. "No you aren't," I said, and Jenks jiggled on his feet, clearly wanting to protest. "He didn't tell Al anything too bad - "
"Rache!" Jenks yelped. "You can't defend him! He sold you out!"
My head jerked up. "I'm not defending him!" I exclaimed. "But we need him alive and cooperative. The Weres have to see him die along with that...thing," I said, nudging my bag with a foot. "I'll think about beating him to a pulp later." I looked up at Ivy's blank expression. "I'm going to use him, then cut him lose. And if he ever does anything like that to me again..."
I didn't need to finish the thought. Jenks shifted from foot to foot, clearly wanting to take things into his own hands. "Where is he?" the pixy asked, grim-faced.
My breath came and went. "I don't know. I told him to go away."
"Go!" Ivy exclaimed, and I made a wry face.
"Out of the van. He'll be back. I still have the statue." Depressed, I stared at the floor.
Jenks hopped out of the van, and the light coming in brightened. "I'll find him. Bring his punk-ass back here. It's been a while since we...talked."
My head came up. "Jenks..."I warned, and he held up a hand.
"I'll behave," he said, gaze darting over the parking lot and to the nearby bar, his face frighteningly hard. "I won't even let him know you told us what he did to you. I'll pick out a movie from the front office on the way back, and we can watch it, all nice and friendly like."
"Thanks," I whispered.
My head was down and I didn't hear him leave, but I looked up when Jax's wings clattered and found them gone. Ivy was watching me, and when I shrugged she shut the door to seal out the cold air. The sound of the metal on metal struck through me, and I gathered myself into some semblance of order. Ivy hesitated, looking torn between wanting to comfort me and afraid I'd take it the wrong way. And there was the blood thing too. It had only been a day since she had sated it, but it had been a very stressful day. Today wasn't looking any easier.
I looked at the matted throw rug, wondering what kind of person I was, afraid to hug my friends, and sleeping with people who used me. "I'll be okay," I said to the floor.
"Rachel, I'm sorry."
My throat hurt. I put my elbows on my knees, set my head into my cupped hand and closed my eyes. "I don't know. Maybe it was my fault for trusting him. I never dreamed he would do something like this." I sniffed loudly. "What's wrong with me, Ivy?"
I was disgusted with myself, the emotion edging into self-pity, and I met her gaze in surprise when Ivy whispered, "There's nothing wrong with you."
"Yeah?" I shot back, and she went to the van's tiny sink and plugged in the electric kettle. "Let's take a look at my track record. I live in a church with a vampire who is the scion of a master vampire who would just as soon see me dead."
Saying nothing, Ivy got out an envelope of cocoa so old it was stiff with moisture.
"I date her old boyfriend," I continued bitterly, "who used to be said master vampire's scion, and my ex-boyfriend is a professional thief who calls demons and trades information about me for tips to steal artifacts that can start an Inderland power struggle. There's something wrong when you trust people who can hurt you so badly."
"It's not that bad." Ivy turned with the chipped mug in her hand, head down as she broke chunks of cocoa against the side of the mug with an old spoon.
"Not that bad?" I said with a bark of laughter. "It's been hidden for five thousand years. Piscary is going to be majorly pissed, along with every master vampire in every city on the entire freaking planet! If we don't do this right, they're all going to be rapping on my door."
"I wasn't talking about that. I meant about you trusting people who can hurt you."
I flushed, suddenly wary of her, standing over there at the end of the van in the dark. "Oh."
The water from the kettle started to steam, blurring her features as it rose. "You need the thrill, Rachel."
Oh God. I stiffened, glancing at the closed door.
Ivy's posture shifted irritably, and she flowed into motion. "Get off it," she said, setting the mug on the tiny counter space and unplugging the kettle. "There's nothing wrong with that. I've watched you ever since we partnered in the I.S. Every guy who tried to date you, you drove away when you found out the danger was only in your imagination."
"What has that got to do with Nick selling me out to a demon?" I said, my voice a shade too loud for prudence.
"You trusted him when you shouldn't have so you could find a sense of danger," she said, her expression angry. "And yes, it hurts that he betrayed that trust, but that's not going to stop you from looking for it again. You'd better start picking where you find your thrills a little better, or it's going to get you killed."
Flustered, I put my back to the wall of the van. "What in hell are you talking about?"
Ivy turned to face me. "Being alive isn't enough for you," she said. "You need to feel alive, and you use the thrill of danger to get it. You knew Nick dealt in demons. Yes, he overstepped his bounds when he traded information about you to them, but you were willing to risk it because the danger turned you on. And once you get over the pain, you're going to trust the wrong person again - just so you can find a jolt in that it might all go bad."
I was afraid to speak. The scent of cocoa rose as she poured hot water into the mug. Afraid she might be right, I considered it, looking over my past. It would explain a lot. All the way back to high school. No. No freaking way. "I do not need a feeling of danger to get turned on," I protested hotly.
"I'm not saying that's bad," she said neutrally. "You're a threat, and you need the same. I know, because I live it. All vampires do. That's why we keep to our own but for cheap thrills and one-night stands. Anyone less a risk than ourselves isn't enough to keep up, keep around, keep alive, or understand. Only those born to it are capable of understanding. And you."
I didn't like this. I didn't like it at all. "I have to go," I said, shifting my weight to stand.
The palm of her hand flashed out, hitting the side of the van to bar my way and stop me cold. "Face it, Rachel," she said when I looked up, frightened. "You've never been the safe, nice girl next door, despite everything you do to be that person. That's why you joined the I.S., and even there you didn't fit in, because, knowing it or not, you were a possible threat to everyone around you. People sense it on some level. I see it all the time. The dangerous are attracted by the lure of an equal, and the weak are afraid. Then they avoid you, or go out of their way to make your life miserable so you'll leave and they can continue deluding themselves that they're safe. You trusted Nick knowing he might betray you. You got off on the risk."
I swallowed a surge of denial, remembering the misery of high school and my history with bad boyfriends. Not to mention my idiotic decision to join the I.S., and then my even more idiotic attempt to quit when Denon started giving me crap runs and the thrill was taken away. I knew I liked dangerous men, but saying it was because I was equally dangerous was ludicrous...or would have been if I hadn't just spent yesterday as a wolf/witch hybrid courtesy of a demon curse that my blood kindled, and I now sat in a brand-new Rachel skin with no freckles or wrinkles.
"So you're a threat," Ivy said, the scent of cocoa rising between us as she sat on the boxes across from me. "So you need the rush of possible death to keep your soul awake and turn you on. That's not bad. It just says you're one powerful bitch, whether you know it or not." Tilting forward, she handed me the chipped mug. "Dangerous doesn't always equal untrustworthy. Drink your cocoa and get over it. Then find someone to trust who's worth trusting you back."
Jaw clenched, I looked at the mug in my grip. It was for me? I had made her cocoa the night Piscary had raped her: mind, body, and soul. I pulled my eyes up her tight jeans and her long shapeless black sweater that hung mid-thigh.
"That's why I wait," she whispered when our eyes met.
I took a hasty breath when I realized the unseen scar beneath my new skin was tingling.
Ivy must have sensed it, for she stood. "I'm sorry," she said, reaching for the door.
"Ivy, wait." What she'd told me scared me, and I didn't want to be alone. I had to figure this out. Maybe she was right. Oh God, was I really that screwed up?
Her long fingers gripped the handle, ready to pull the door open. "The van stinks of us both," she said, not looking at me. "I should be good for a few days more, but the stress...I've got to get out of here. I'm sorry - damn it." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't comfort you without my blood lust getting in the way." She looked up at me, her smile faint and carrying old pain. "Not much of a friend, am I?"
Without getting up, I fumbled my fingers past the curtain of the window above me and pushed the bottom out to open it. My heart pounded, and I took in the pine-scented air and hush of the passing traffic. "You're a good friend. Does that help?" I asked in a small voice.
Ivy shook her head. "Come back to the room. Jenks will drag Nick in soon. We can all watch a movie and pretend nothing happened. It should be tremendously awkward. Tons of fun. I'll be fine as long as I don't sit next to you."
Her expression was calm, but she sounded bitter. My face scrunched up and I curved my fingers around the warmth of the cocoa. I didn't know what to think, but I was very sure I didn't want Nick to know he had made me cry. "You go. I'll come in when my eyes aren't so red."
I felt a sense of loss when Ivy stepped out of the van and then turned with her arms about her in the chill. It was obvious she knew the longer I stayed out here, the harder it was going to be for me to find the courage to come in. "Don't you have a complexion charm?" she asked.
"They don't work on bloodshot eyes," I hedged. Damn it, what was wrong with me?