Chapter Twenty
Junior's was frighteningly busy, the clientele mostly human at the early hour, stumbling about in search of their first cup of coffee. Either humans appreciated their coffee more than the average Inderlander, or Mark's marketing gamble of claiming to serve coffee that demons crossed the lines for was paying off. I couldn't help but notice that the floor had been repainted with circles and spirals, and I wondered if the lock access to the back door had been changed as well. The talk was loud, and the music cranked decibels higher than normal made my head hurt. I truly sympathized with the rare Inderlander accused of eating humans. They were annoying and obnoxious when they thought no one was listening.
My mood couldn't be entirely blamed on the noise and early hour-seeing as I'd not gotten to sleep until Ivy had come home, and then gotten up at an insane seven in the morning to get here by 7:35 exactly. But if my mood was bad, Ivy had me beat, glowering in the corner of the darkest booth we had been able to snag. The three beatniks bemoaning the unfairness of life and the publishing industry had been taking up the spot when we'd arrived, but after Ivy stood over their table with her grande and bad attitude, they'd packed up their double-spaced pages and red pencils and moved to a sunnier table.
Ivy was better now that most of her drink was inside her and her head was down over the museum blueprints, but if my evening with Felix and Cormel had been disturbing, hers spent getting Nina into a safe house had devolved into terror. As Ivy had expected, Nina had gotten angry at the mere suggestion, and without Felix to steady the overwhelming sensations, clarity of perception, and power that he'd gifted her with, she'd quickly spiraled out of control. Ivy had gotten her to the safe house just in time.
The morning was bright and chill, and Jenks was warming himself on the light fixture. It was just us three, the way I liked it, and I had a suspicion that we were at the very same booth where we had made our agreement to go into business together. I wondered at all the changes in our lives since then. We were all better, weren't we? I wasn't so sure anymore. I'd loved and lost. So had Ivy. So had Jenks. There was good stuff too, wasn't there?
Ivy checked her watch, folded up the map, and shoved it away.
"Is she here?" Jenks asked, his dust an odd light blue edged in gold. I'd never seen that before, and I wondered if his extended life span was giving him a wider repertoire.
Ivy shook her head, casually pulling her coffee to her with long, pale fingers. Silent, she stared out over the patrons at nothing as she tried to put her night in perspective. Her hair was perfectly arranged, and her short jacket made her look like a model. People were eyeing her in envy. She looked like she had everything. Looked was the keyword. Her eyes were red with worry, and fatigue pulled at her like a cur.
"I would rather have done this at night," I said, thinking that the idea to just walk in, grab the rings, and walk out was great if you were fourteen and trying to steal a candy bar, but not twenty-seven and aiming for a piece of irreplaceable elven heritage. Then again, the oldest tricks worked the best.
"Security is impossible at night," she murmured.
"Ana 'eesides, 'ache," Jenks said as he dropped down, his words slurred as he chewed one of the nectar and pollen balls Belle had made for him. "Ee don't 'ave time to plan ah 'eel job. Ou'll 'e great!" He swallowed a chunk. "It's not that much different from legit work. You get busted for doing that, too, half the time."
Resettling my scarf, I eyed him sourly. His cheek was still bulging like a chipmunk's as he furiously chewed. Belle had made his travel food her size, not his, and his kids had had giggling fits this morning when the fairy had gruffly given them to him in a paper sack she had folded herself. Jenks had only said thank you, even as he'd gestured for his kids to leave off. I was proud of him.
"Piece of cake," I whispered, wanting to ask Ivy for the map.
"Easy as pie!" the pixy said, his fingers now sticking to a napkin. Frustrated, he lifted off the table, taking the napkin with him. His dust shifted to an irate red, and Ivy pinned the paper with her index finger. Wings clattering, he drew his sword, and with three frustrated motions, he rose up, a piece of napkin drifting down under him.
"If you two don't relax, I'm going to jump Rachel's jugular," Ivy muttered, and I slumped into my chair, taking my double shot grande, Italian blend, skim milk, shot of raspberry, no foam coffee with me. Al liked whole milk, but I thought it was too rich that way.
"Sorry." It bothered me more than I wanted to admit that we had to steal the stupid rings. Involving an innocent kind of bothered me, too. But as Jenks had said, there hadn't been enough time for Ivy's usual beauty-in-planning. We had to go in dirty and fast. Get in, move to the secure area where the pieces were being held under the cover of a distraction, do a little light-fingered shopping, and leave a pair of fake rings before walking out the front door with what we'd come for. It was that skinflint elf's fault-going back on an arranged . . . arrangement. Trent was still in the ever-after, and it bothered me. A lot.
I fiddled with my cup of coffee, feeling the silence become uncomfortable. "I'm glad you're back," I said, and Ivy's eyes flicked to mine. "It's been quiet."
Her brow furrowed and she looked away. "I'll try not to make so much noise."
Anger flickered and died, and I watched her pupils dilate and return to normal in response. She'd had a difficult night. I could cut her some slack. "I didn't say you were being noisy. I said it's been quiet. I also said I'm glad you're back. I'm sorry you had such a hard night with Nina. Is she going to be okay? Felix was . . ." I hesitated, my anger vanishing as I remembered his hunched shadow, as he stood anguished in my kitchen in a moment of lucidity, his eyes rolling as he looked for me to kill him as a way out of his new hell. "I don't like undead vampires, the way they use people like tissue and discard them, but seeing him broken like that and losing his mind?" I looked up, seeing her own pain. "I feel bad for him."
Ivy's eyes were haunted as she watched her fingers encircle her cup.
"Hey, ah, I'm going to check out the perimeter, okay?" Jenks said, then darted off through the drive-up window, scaring the crap out of the barista managing it. Though the sun was bright this morning, it was too cold for him to be outside long. He'd be back.
Chicken, I thought, but I didn't blame him. Ivy exhaled, still avoiding me. Either she would talk or she wouldn't.
"Maybe I shouldn't have interfered," she said, and I strained to hear her over the noise of "background" music and conversation. Ivy's eyes came up, heartache mirrored in them. "People suffered for me last night, good people. Not just my friends at Piscary's who fed that monster, but the ones at the safe house, too. Nina agreed to this arrangement with Felix. Who am I to try to help her?"
I leaned over the table, and Ivy flinched as my hand covered hers. The cup was long cold, but her fingers were warm. "Nina did not agree to this. She bought into a lie, one coated in power and euphoria. People suffered for her, but they did it knowing it was to help one of their own come back. If Nina can survive, if you can bring her back from where Felix filled her with ecstasy and then dumped her, then there's hope for them. That's why they took your pain. You gave them hope that they might survive, too."
Ivy looked away in guilt, and I remembered the wild abandonment I'd seen time and again at Piscary's under Kisten's management, living vampires going there to lie to themselves that life was good and they had the world on a string. They needed knowing that there was a way out, perhaps more than they knew.
My eyes were warm with unshed tears, and Ivy blinked fast when she pulled her hand out from under mine. She wanted to believe, but it was hard for her to accept others sacrificing for her.
"Keep Nina safe," I said, hiding my hand under the table. A resolve had filled me somewhere between finding Felix in my kitchen and Ivy stumbling home last night crying over someone else's pain. I couldn't let Ivy suffer the hell I'd seen Felix trapped in. I had to find a way to save her soul. I had to.
"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."