A Fistful of Charms (24 page)

Jenks took his place behind the wheel. He turned the boat slightly to the bridge, and the ride smoothed out. I watched the play of emotions over his smooth face. I knew he was as mad as a jilted troll at the altar that Nick had led his son astray, but seeing Nick beaten, abused, and so weak he could hardly open that stupid wrapper, it was hard not to feel sorry for him.

Just wanting Jenks to lighten up a little, I put my head in his lap and peered up at him.

“Don't look at me like that, Rache,” Jenks said, his eyes scanning the approaching shoreline for the run-down marina we had planned out earlier as a possible landfall. “I saw you pull it on Nick, and it doesn't work on me. I have fifty-four kids, and it won't work.”

Sighing heavily, I arched my wolf eyebrows. Sure enough, he glanced down.

“Tink's panties,” he muttered. “Okay. I'll be nicer. But as soon as he's better, I'm going to punch him.”

Pleased, I pulled my head up and gave him a lick on his cheek.

“Don't do that,” he muttered, wiping the moisture away. But his embarrassment was tinged with understanding.

I'd be content with that, but before I could teeter back and see if Nick would open one of those government-issue energy bars for me, Jenks stood, one hand on the wheel, the other holding his cap to his head. “Ah, Rache?” he said over the roar of the engine and the brush of wind. “Your eyes might be better than mine. Is that Ivy on the dock?”

S
quinting into the wind, I sat on the copilot's chair watching the decades-old rusted gas pumps on the dock become clearer. Ivy was standing with the sun glinting on her short black hair, leaning casually against a piling. She was in jeans and a long sweater, but with the boots and shades, she managed to look svelte as well as ticked. A frumpy older man was next to her, and worry went through me at what had gone so wrong in Cincinnati that she had to come and get me.
Unless she's here because she thinks I can't handle this.

The man beside her looked both nervous and excited in his faded overalls, holding himself a careful five feet away as the breeze shifted his plaid coat open to the wind. They probably didn't get many living vamps up here, and he was clearly more curious than wary.

Jenks decreased our speed, and I could hear the sounds from the shore. My emotions were swinging from one extreme to the other. If Ivy had come because she didn't think I could do this, I was going to be pissed—even if it wasn't going that well. If she was up here because there was a problem back home, I was going to be worried. I'd thought she couldn't even leave Cincinnati, so whatever it was, it must be bad.

My weight shifted as the boat slowed, and I fidgeted with worry. Jenks cut the gas to idle and we drifted closer. “Can
we tie up here?” he shouted to the man, who was probably manager of the marina.

“You bet!” he called back, voice high and excited. “Take her right down to slip fifty-three. Your friend already paid for it.” He pointed where he wanted us to go, looking flustered. “That's a big dog you got there. We have a leash law this side of the straits.”

I watched Ivy for her reaction to seeing me as a wolf, but her expression behind the sunglasses was amused, as if it was all a big joke.

“Come on down when you get settled,” the man said, hesitating when he saw Nick hunched under his blanket. “I need to register you.”

Swell. Proof we were here.

Ivy was already walking down the empty dock to the slip the man had indicated. Behind me, Nick shuffled around, finding the docking ropes and flinging bumpers over the sides. “You ever dock a boat before?” he asked Jenks.

“No, but I'm doing okay so far.”

I stayed where I was while the two men figured it out, easing our way into the slip in sudden bursts of engine and calls to go forward or reverse. Ivy stood on the dock and watched, as did a few people readying their boats for the water. Nervous, I slunk to the lowest part of the boat to hide. The island Weres and the Weres we stole the boat from would track us down, and a big red dog was memorable. We had to start putting distance between us and our borrowed boat.

Jenks cut the engine and levered himself out, landing lightly on the wooden dock to tie off the back end. Ivy rose from her crouch where she had tied the bow. “What in Tink's contractual hell are you doing here?” Jenks said, then glanced at the people nearby sanding the bottom of their boat. “Didn't think we could handle it?” he added, softer.

Ivy frowned. “Nice Band-Aid, Jenks,” she said sarcastically, and he reached to touch it. “You're big enough to bite now, mosquito, so shut up.”

“You'd have to catch me first,” he said, flushing. “Give us some credit. It was only a snag and drag.”

I would have told him to lighten up but my thoughts were spiraling around the same question. Clearly angry, Ivy nudged the rope over the edge so no one would trip on it. “Hello, Nick,” she said, running her gaze over his blanket-draped, barefoot, hunched form. “Someone rocking your boat?”

Under her disapproving eye, Nick tried to pull to his full height, cutting the motion short with a grunt. He looked awful. His beard was nasty, his hair greasy, and his smell was pungent now that the wind wasn't pulling it away. “Hi, Ivy,” he rasped. “Piscary send you out for some fudge?”

Stiffening, she turned. My pulse quickened at the reminder of the undead vamp. She shouldn't have been here. There was going to be a price to pay, which made me think it had to be more than her checking on Jenks and me. She could have called if that was all it was.

I made a little woof to get Jenks's attention, but it was obvious by his sudden concern that he'd come to the same conclusion. Hands on his hips, he took a breath as if to ask, glanced at Nick, then let it out. “Hey, uh, Ivy,” he said, a whole lot nicer. “We need to get out of here.”

Ivy followed his gaze to the smear the island made on the horizon. “Are you hot?” she asked, and when he nodded, she added, “Then let's get him in the van.”

Finally, we were moving.

“You brought the van?” Jenks hopped back into the boat, the fiberglass under my feet barely trembling. “How did you know we were here?”

“I drove around until I found your motel,” she said, eyes on me. “The town's not that big. I've got Kist's Corvette parked at the restaurant across the street from your room.”

At least they were being nice to each other. I wanted some clothes and a moment to change, and if Ivy brought the van—which we'd packed in case we needed to bug out in a hurry—then all the better. Head weaving to gauge the
distance, I jumped to the dock, my nails skittering. There was an
Ooooh
of appreciation from the people across the inlet sanding the bottom of their boat, and I flicked my ears back and then forward.

“I've got to go register,” Jenks said, as if proud of it, then hesitated, his earlier annoyance gone. “I'm glad you're here,” he said, surprising me. “
She
can't drive anymore, and I'm not getting in a car with crap for brains behind the wheel.”

“That's enough!” I snapped, having it come out as aggressive barks. The entire marina took notice. Drooping, I sank to the damp planks like a good dog. It was Tuesday, but being the last Tuesday before Memorial Day, there were a few retirees working on their boats.

Jenks snickered. With a jaunty step, he headed to the bird-spotted dockmaster's office. I still didn't know why Ivy was there, and probably wouldn't as long as Nick was listening.

On the dock, Ivy dropped to one knee, peering at my eyes to make me uncomfortable. There was a new sparkle of gold in her earlobes.
When had she started wearing earrings?

“Are you okay?” she asked, as if trying to see if it was really me. I shifted to snap at her, and she grabbed the ruff around my neck, holding me. “You're wet,” she said, the warmth of her fingers finding my damp skin under the fur. That a mouthful of nasty teeth had just missed her arm seemed to have made no impression. “There's a blanket in the van. You want to change?”

Flustered, I pulled back gently, and this time she let go. I bobbed my head, turning to look at Nick. Seeing my attention on him, he drew the blanket tighter to hide his burned clothing, shivering. I wanted to talk to Ivy, but I wasn't about to turn witch where everyone could see. Having the surrounding locals watch her talk to a big dog was bad enough.

“Let's get out of here,” she said, standing up and stepping into the boat. “Let me help you with your…scuba gear?” she finished after pulling off the tarp. Her eyes went to mine. “You can dive?” she asked, and I shrugged, in as much as a wolf could shrug.

With a rough motion, Ivy drew the cover back before the curious people still sanding that same three-foot section of boat could see. She eyed me, then the shack where Jenks was, wanting to talk to me alone. “Hey, Nick,” she said, a ribbon of threat in her voice. “It's going to take some time to get this packed. They have facilities for people who have their boats here. You want to shower while we load the van?”

Nick's long face went longer as his lips parted. “Why do you care if I'm comfortable?”

True to form, Ivy sneered. “I don't. You reek, and I don't want you stinking up the van.”

Brow furrowed, she looked to the shack on the dock. “Hey, old man!” she shouted, her voice echoing on the flat water in the harbor, and Jenks poked his head out of the dock office. “Buy him a shower, will you? We've got time.”

We didn't, but Jenks nodded, vanishing back inside. My wolfen brow furrowed, and Nick didn't seem happy either, probably guessing we were getting rid of him for a moment. Lifting a cushion, he brought out a pair of gray flannel government-looking sweats and size-eleven sneakers that had been tucked away for a returning Were to slip into. They'd likely be too small, but it was better than what he was wearing. Hunched under his blanket, he tottered to the edge of the boat, halting before Ivy, since she was blocking his path.

“You're one lucky bastard,” she said, hand on a hip. “I would have let you rot.”

Hand clenching his blanket closed, he edged past her. “Ask me if I care.”

Ivy gathered herself to come back with a remark, but then he reached for a piling to pull himself out and the blanket slipped to show the burn marks. Horrified, she met my gaze.

Unaware that she had seen, Nick clutched his things close and made his meticulous way to a nearby cinder-block building, following the blue-lettered sign that promised showers. The dockmaster ambled out of his office, plastic token in his hand. While the man gave Nick a bar of soap and a sympathetic touch on his shoulder, Jenks made his slow way to us.

Nick's gaunt, battered silhouette vanished around the corner, bare feet popping against the cement. Turning, I found Ivy beside the captain's chair. “My God, what did they do to him?” she whispered.

Like I could talk?

Jenks came to an awkward, scuffling halt on the dock above us, squinting as he looked at the island. “We don't have time for him to shower,” he said, adjusting his clan cap, his Band-Aid gone. He had turned the cap inside out so the emblem was hidden, and it looked good on him. Probably start a new trend.

“He is not getting into Kisten's van smelling like that.” Ivy's gaze went to the tarp hiding the gear. “What do you want to do with these?”

Jenks looked at me for direction, and I huffed. “Bring 'em,” he said. “Marshal will want them back. Though I suggest we keep them until we're clear.”

“Marshal?” Ivy questioned.

Grinning, Jenks resettled the tarp in the limited floor space and started moving the equipment onto it. “A local witch Rachel sweet-talked into letting us rent his equipment. Nice guy. He and Rachel have a date when this is over.”

I whined, and Jenks laughed. Ivy wasn't amused, and she pushed off from the captain's chair, saying nothing and avoiding my gaze as she helped stack the gear into the sling of the tarp. Between her vampire strength and Jenks's pixy stamina, they lifted the tarp with all the equipment onto the dock, the watching people none the wiser for what was in it.

While I sat on the dock and watched, Jenks and Ivy wiped the boat free of fingerprints under the pretense of cleaning it. Snapping the weather tarps into place as they went, they worked their way from the bow to the stern, eliminating every shred of easily traced evidence that we had been in it. Jenks was the last to leave, vaulting to the dock to land beside me in a show of athletic grace that made Ivy's eyes widen in appreciation.

“Got your people legs, I see,” she murmured, then grabbed one end of the tarp. Jenks grinned, and looking as if the
rolled up tarp weighed no more than a cooler, the two of them headed for the van. I trailed behind, sullen and bad tempered. I had been up nearly twenty-four hours, and I was tired and hungry. If one of them tried to put a leash on me, I was going to take that someone down.

Jenks quickened his pace after they reached the gravel parking lot, in a good mood despite having missed his afternoon nap. “How did you know we might show up here?” he said as he dropped his end of the bundle and slid the side door to the van open with a harsh scraping sound.

“Dad!” Jax shrilled, exploding out to make circles about us. “How did it go? Where's Nick? Did you see him? Is he dead? Oh wow! Ms. Morgan is a wolf!”

“Ah,” Jenks said, “we got him. He's in the shower. He stinks.”

I went to jump into the van, stopping when Rex took one look at me, swelled into an orange puffball, and vanished in a streak of common sense under the front seat.
Poor kitty. Thinks I'm going to eat her.

“Hey, Ms. Morgan!” the little pixy said, landing on my head until I flicked my ears at him. “Nick is going to be mad. Wait until you see what Ivy brought.”

Jenks frowned. “That's Ms. Tamwood, son,” he said, unloading the tarp into the van.

Jax flitted into the van, darting among the belongings we'd shoved in pell-mell earlier. The small pixy flitted to the floor and in a high voice tried to coax Rex out, using himself as bait. I sat in the sun and watched, mildly concerned that no one was stopping him. I wanted a pair of shorts and a shirt so I could change too, but I was in a hurry and figured I could change in the van behind the curtain. Jax had turned his efforts to get Rex out to obnoxious clicks and whistles, and it hurt my head.

Ivy yanked open the driver's side door and got in, leaving it ajar to let the cool afternoon breeze shift the tips of her hair. “You want to take Nick to Canada before you head home, or are you going to just cut him loose?”

I made a sick face, but seeing as I was a wolf, it probably looked like I was going to hawk up a bird. It wasn't that simple anymore, but I had to change before I could explain. The van smelled like witch, pixy, and Ivy, and I didn't want to get in until I had to. I could see my suitcase, but opening it was a different matter.

Jenks stepped into the van, lurching for Jax and missing. Mumbling almost aloud, he began arranging things so we'd all fit, all the while keeping a tight watch on his son.

“What is it, Rachel?” Ivy asked warily, watching me through the rearview mirror. “You don't look happy for someone who just finished a run, even if it was pro bono.”