For a Few Demons More(200)

For six heartbeats she simply stared, thoughts sifting through her. Behind her I saw Ford drop his head into his hand, trying not to eavesdrop—but hell, that was his job. She took a deep breath, and all her muscles went limp. “Kisten,” she finally breathed, falling to her knees to touch him, and I knew she believed. Her hands went to his hair, and she started to cry.

The first heavy cry was her undoing, and proud, stoic Ivy finally let go. Huge, racking sobs shook her shoulders. Tears for his death, yes, but for herself as well, and I felt my own eyes fill and spill over as I dropped down to hold her beside his cold stillness. Kisten was the only person who had known the depth of depravity to which Piscary had sunk them, the heights of ecstasy. The breath-stealing power he had granted them, and the terrible price he extracted for it. The only one who had forgiven her for what she was, who understood who she wanted to be. He was gone, and there’d be no one else who could possibly understand. Not even me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, rocking her while her ragged sobs broke the silence as we sat on the floor of the tiny bedroom in a backwater tributary of the Ohio River. “I know what he was to you. We’ll find out who did this. We will find out, and then we’ll track them down.”

And still she wept, as if her grief would never end.

And then grief came for me as well, cold and hard, grief defined by bright blue eyes and the smile I loved so much and would never see again. As my hand found his, bitter salt tears spilled from my eyes, in sorrow and pain and regret that I had so utterly failed him.





THIRTY-NINE


Two weeks later

I jiggled the handle of the canvas bag to the crook of my arm so I could open the door to the church, squinting up at the VAMPIRIC CHARMS sign glowing wetly. Ivy wanted ice cream, and since she didn’t want it enough to go out in the rain for it, I had been suckered into it. I’d do just about anything to see her smile again. It had been a rough two weeks. ’Course, we needed cat food, too, and dish soap. And we were out of coffee. It was scary how fast my quick run to the store had turned into a three-bag trip.

The door to the church creaked open, and I slid inside. Leaning against the closed door for balance, I wedged my shoes off. It was dark, seeing as the moon wasn’t up and the clouds were thick. I paused just inside the sanctuary, flicking the light switch with my elbow. Nothing.

“Crap on toast,” I muttered, smacking it a few more times just for fun. “Jenks!” I shouted. “The fuse in the sanctuary blew again!”

I didn’t really expect an answer, but where was Ivy? She had to have noticed.

Shifting the bags awkwardly, I headed for the kitchen. Three steps in, I froze. I could smell unfamiliar vampires. Lots of them. And old smoke. And beer.

“Shit,” I whispered, adrenaline whipping through me.

“Now!” someone yelled, and the lights flashed on.

Panicked, I dropped the bags and fell into a fighting stance, blinded by the sudden glare.

“Surprise!” came a chorus of voices from the front of the church, and I spun, heart pounding. “Happy birthday!”

I stared, my mouth hanging open and my hands in fists as the pint of Choco-Chunk rolled to Ivy’s feet. She was actually smiling, and I slowly stood straight. My heart was still hammering away, and Jenks was making darting loops from me to her, shedding a brilliant gold.

“We got her!” he was shouting, and what looked like all his kids took up the refrain, filling the air with color and sound. “We got her good, Ivy. Look at her. Not a clue!”

Shocked, I fumbled for the bags. David, Keasley, and Ceri were at the couch, and Ivy was standing by the far light switch. Everyone was smiling, but then, as Jenks had said, they’d gotten me good.

There were no vampires here other than Ivy, and the only drink I could see were the three two-liters of soda on the coffee table. The smell of vampire, cigarettes, and old beer was coming from the battered pool table now set up to one side of the sanctuary. It hadn’t been there when I had left. Seeing it, I felt my throat close up. It had been Kisten’s. “But my birthday was last month,” I said, still confused.

Ceri came forward. There was a cone hat on her head, but she somehow made it look more dignified than one had any right to expect. “We didn’t forget,” she said, giving me a quick hug. “We were distracted. Happy birthday, Rachel.”

I honestly didn’t know what to say. Keasley had on a hat, too, and when he saw me look at him, he took it off. The pixies, though, kept theirs on, darting about like mad.

My gaze went to the pool table, and tears pricked at my eyes. From there I looked to the surrounding faces. Under their smiles they were pleading, almost desperate for me to pretend everything was normal. That life was getting back to what it should be. That I wasn’t missing a huge piece of myself. That there was one person that should be here who wasn’t, and never would be again.