For a Few Demons More(202)

“Yeah, but, David…”

He confidently shook his head. “I have this under control. The curse is like the devil itself. I feel it in me, and I have to weigh my thoughts to decide if it’s me or the curse, but it’s happy to be able to run again, and I have that as a threat. It knows if it makes me angry, I’ll come to you and you’ll take it out and put it in a prison of bone.”

“It’s right,” I said, remembering the fear in his eyes from just my touch. “David, this is so dangerous. Let me take it out. Everyone thinks the focus is destroyed. We can hide it—”

He held up a hand, and I stopped. “With the curse in me, Serena and Kally can shift without pain. Do you really want to take that from them? And it’s okay. I didn’t want a pack, but…sometimes our choices are made for us. The curse belongs to the Weres. Leave it where it is,” he said firmly, as if the conversation were done.

Slumping against the back of the couch, I gave up. David ducked his head and relaxed. He had won, and he knew it. Ivy glanced at me from where she was handing out soda when Jenks whispered something in her ear, and her questioning gaze turned into a smile. Taking two plastic cups, she moved to sit against the pool table where she could watch everyone.

“Do you want something to drink, Rachel?” David asked, and Ivy raised one to say she’d already poured me something.

“Ivy’s got it,” I said, and he touched my arm before going to see what Keasley wanted.

I wasn’t thirsty, but I went over to Ivy, leaning against the table beside her. Her thin eyebrows were high, and she silently handed me my drink. My gaze strayed to her neck. Piscary had bitten her so cleanly that the bites had healed with almost no scar. My neck still was a nasty mess, and it would likely stay that way. I didn’t care. My soul was black, and the outward scarring seemed to fit.

Piscary had been dead for two weeks, and the minor camarillas were chomping at one another’s heels to find out who would be Cincinnati’s next master vampire. The mourning period was nearly over, and all of Cincy was gearing up for the squabbles and power plays. Ivy’s mom had a good shot at it, which didn’t fill me with any confidence. Though Ivy would be exempt from being a blood source, she’d probably have more backroom responsibility. All of Piscary’s vampires had banded together under her; if a different camarilla came out on top, their lives wouldn’t be worth the grape leaves Piscary had used to wrap around his lamb sandwiches. Ivy said she wasn’t worried, but it had to be preying on her.

Now she cleared her throat in warning, and I forced my hand down from my own neck before I accidentally set the scar resonating to her pheromones. The scent of the pool table rose around me, the combined scent of vampires, cigarette smoke, and beer bringing back memories of me knocking around the balls as I waited in a peaceful, empty dance club for Kisten to finish locking up and our evening to begin.

Again my throat closed, and I set my drink down. “Nice pool table,” I said miserably.

“I’m glad you like it.” At my shoulder Ivy blinked fast but didn’t look at me. “It’s your birthday present from Jenks and me.”

Jenks darted up with a clatter of wings. “Happy birthday, Rachel,” he said with a forced brightness. “I was going to give you some color-changing nail polish, but Ivy thought you’d like this better.”

Unshed tears made my vision swim, but I wasn’t going to cry, damn it. I stretched out my hand and ran my fingers over the rough felt. It had stitches, just like me. “Thanks,” I said.

“Damn it, Ivy!” Jenks said as he darted erratically from me to her. “I told you it was a bad idea. Look, she’s crying.”

I sniffed loudly, glancing up to see that only Keasley had noticed. “No,” I said, my voice a shade too tight. “I love it. Thank you.”

Ivy took a drink, maintaining a silent, companionable misery. I didn’t need to say a word. I couldn’t. Every time I had tried to comfort her the last two weeks, she’d fled. I’d learned it was better just to meet her eyes and look away with my mouth shut.

The pixy landed on her shoulder in silent support, and I saw her tension ease.

The pool table might be mine in name, but I think it meant more to Ivy. It was the only thing besides Kisten’s ashes that she had taken. And the fact that she had given it to me was an affirmation that she understood that he’d been important to both of us, that my pain was as important as hers. God, I miss him.

The ice in my drink shifted to smack my nose when I took a sip. I wasn’t going to cry. Not again. Edden wanted me to come in and talk to Ford about my memory, “for your own piece of mind, not the case,” he had said. But I wasn’t going to. I might have had my memory loss forced upon me, but now that it was gone, it could stay gone. It would only cause more pain. The FIB were bucking the system and trying to find out who had killed Kisten by way of who had made the deal between Piscary and Al to get him out, but that was a dead end.