A Fistful of Charms (6 page)

Face going still, I looked up the narrow passage to find a pixy dressed in a black body stocking rubbing a clean spot to see through on a dirt-grimed, bird-spotted, upper-story window.

Shame stilled my voice. God, I had been so stupid. I didn't blame him for leaving, for thinking I hadn't trusted him. The ugly truth was, I hadn't. Last solstice I had figured out that Trent Kalamack was an elf, and getting the wealthy son of a bitch to not kill me for knowing that the elves weren't extinct but had gone into hiding had taken a pretty piece of blackmail. Finding out what kind of Inderlander Trent was had become the holy grail of the pixy world, and I knew the temptation for Jenks to blab it would be too much. Even so, he deserved better than my lies of omission, and I was afraid he might not listen to me even now.

Jenks hovered, intent on whatever was inside. His dragonfly wings were invisible in his calm state, and not a hint of pixy dust sifted from him. He looked confident, and a red bandanna was tied about his forehead. It was protection against accidentally invading a rival pixy's or fairy's territory, a promise of a quick departure with no attempt at poaching.

I nervously gathered my resolve, glancing at the wall of the alley before I leaned against it and tried to look casual. “So, is she cheating on her husband?” I asked.

“Nah,” Jenks said, his eyes focused through the glass. “She's taking an exercise class to surprise him on their twenty-fifth anniversary. He doesn't deserve her, the mistrusting bastard.”

Then he jerked, slamming back six feet to nearly hit the adjacent building.

“You!” he cried, pixy dust sifting like sunbeams. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I pushed myself off the wall and stepped forward. “Jenks—”

He dropped like a stone to hover before me, finger pointing as the pixy dust he had let slip slowly fell over us. Anger creased his tiny features to make him grim and threatening. “She told you!” he shrilled, his jaw clenched and his face red under his short blond hair.

I took a step back, alarmed. “Jenks, she's only worried—”

“The hell with you both,” he snarled. “I'm outta here.”

He turned, wings a blur of red. Ticked, I tapped a line. Energy flowed, equalizing in the time it takes for a burst bubble to vanish.
“Rhombus,”
I snapped, imagining a circle. A sheet of gold hummed into existence, so thick it blurred the walls of the surrounding alley. I staggered, my balance questionable since I hadn't taken even the time to pretend to draw a circle in the air.

Jenks jerked to a stop a mere inch in front of the circle. “You sorry stupid witch!” he shrilled, seeming at a loss for something worse. “Let me out. I ought to kill your car. I ought to leave slug eggs in your slippers! I ought to, I ought to…”

Hands on my hips, I got in his face. “Yeah, you ought to, but first you're going to listen to me!” His eyes widened, and I leaned forward until he shifted back. “What is wrong with you, Jenks? This can't just be about me not telling you what Trent is!”

Jenks's face lost its surprise. His eyes touched upon the bandages and bruises on my neck, then dropped to my pain amulet. Seemingly by force of will, his eyes narrowed with an old anger. “That's right,” he said, hovering an inch before my nose. “It's about you lying to me! It's about you not trusting me with information. It's about you pissing all over our partnership!”

Finally,
I thought.
Finally.
I gritted my jaw, almost cross-eyed with him so close. “Good God! If I tell you what he is, will that make you happy?”

“Shut your mouth!” he shouted. “I don't care anymore, and I don't need your help. Break your circle so I can get the hell away from you, or I'll jam something where it shouldn't go, witch.”

“You stupid ass,” I exclaimed, warming. “Fine!” Furious, I shoved a foot into the circle. My breath hissed in when the circle's energy flowed into me. At the end of the alley the passing people gave us a few curious looks. “Run away!” I said, gesturing wildly, not caring what they thought. “Leave, you cowardly ball of spider snot. I've been trying to apologize for the last five months, but you're so preoccupied with your stinking little hurt feelings that you won't listen. I think you like being slighted. I think you feel secure in your downtrodden pixy mentality. I think you get off on the ‘poor little pixy that no one takes seriously crap' that you wrap yourself in. And when I believed in you, you got scared and ran away at the first sign that you might have to live up to your ideas!”

Jenks's mouth was hanging open and he was slowly loosing altitude. Seeing him floundering, I surged ahead, thinking I might have finally shaken him loose.

“Go on and leave,” I continued, my legs starting to shake. “Stay in your stinking little basement and hide. But Matalina and your kids are coming back to the garden. You can shove a cherry up your ass and make jam for all I care, but I need them. I can't keep those damn fairies out to save my dandelions, and I need my garden as much as I need backup on a night with a full moon. And your bitching and moaning don't mean crap anymore because I've been trying to apologize and all you've done is shit on me. Well, I'm not apologizing anymore!”

Still he hung in the air, his wings shifting to a lighter shade of red. He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, and they tugged his bandanna and fell to his sword.

“I'm going to find Jax and Nick,” I said, my anger lessening. I had said what I wanted, and all that was left was hearing what he thought. “Are you coming with me or not?”

Jenks rose. “My going north has nothing to do with you,” he said tightly.

“Like hell it doesn't,” I said, hearing the first heavy drop of rain hit the nearby Dumpster. “He may be your son, but it was my old boyfriend who got him in trouble. He lied to you. He lied to me. And I'm going up there so I can kick Nick's ass
from here to the ever-after.” Even I could hear my sullen tone, and Jenks gave me a nasty smile.

“Be careful,” he goaded. “Someone might think you still like him.”

“I do
not,
” I said, feeling a headache start. “But he's in trouble and I can't just let whoever it is kill him.”

A bitter, saucy look returned to Jenks's face, and he flitted to the end of a two-by-four sticking out of a can. “Yuh-huh,” he said snidely, hands on his hips. “Why are you really going?”

“I just told you why,” I snapped, hiding my bitten hand when he looked at it.

His head bobbed up and down. “Yada yada yada,” he said, making a get-on-with-it gesture with one hand. “I know why you're going, but I want to hear you say it.”

I fumbled, not believing this. “Because I'm as mad as all hell!” I said, the rain falling steadily now. If we had to continue this conversation much longer, we were going to get soaked. “He said he was going to come back, and he did, just long enough to clear out his apartment and take off. No good-bye, not even an ‘it was great, babe, but I gotta go now.' I need to tell him to his face that he crapped all over me and I don't love him anymore.”

Jenks's tiny eyebrows rose, and I wished he was bigger so I could wipe the smirk off his face. “This is some female closure thing, isn't it?” he said, and I sneered.

“Look,” I said. “I'm going to get Jax and pull Nick's sorry ass out from whatever mess he's in. Are you coming with me, or are you going to waste your time taking smut runs for a paycheck you will only waste on a plane ticket that will leave you hospitalized for three days?” I slowed, thinking I could chance appealing to his love for Matalina without him flying away. “Matalina is scared, Jenks. She's afraid you won't come back if you go alone.”

His face emptied of emotion, and for a moment I thought I'd gone too far. “I can do this on my own,” he said angrily. “I don't need your help.”

My thoughts went to his iffy food supply and the cold
northern nights. It could snow in May in Michigan. Jenks knew it. “Sure you don't,” I said. I crossed my arms and eyed him. “Just like I could have survived those fairy assassins last year without your help.”

His lips pursed. He took a breath to tell me something. His hand went up, finger pointing. I made my eyes wide and mocking. Slowly his hand fell. Still standing on the two-by-four, Jenks's wings drooped. “You're going?”

I fought to keep my surge of hope from showing. “Yes,” I said. “But to even have a chance, I need a security bypass expert, reconnaissance, and someone I trust to watch my back. Ivy can't do it. She can't leave Cincinnati.”

Jenks's wings hummed into motion, then stilled. “You hurt me bad, Rachel.”

My chest clenched in guilt. “I know,” I whispered. “And I'm sorry. I don't deserve your help, but I'm asking for it.” I pulled my head up, pleading with him with my eyes. For the first time, his face showed the hurt I'd given him, and my heart broke again.

“I'll think about it,” he muttered, taking to the air.

I took a faltering step after him. “I'm leaving tomorrow. Early noon.”

Wings clattering, Jenks flew a swooping path back to me. I nearly raised my hand for him to land on, but it would hurt too much if he shunned it. “I suppose that's early for a witch,” he said. The pitch of his wings rose until my eyeballs hurt. “Okay. I'll come with you, but I'm not coming back to the firm. This is a one-shot deal.”

My throat closed and I swallowed down a lump. He'd come back. He knew it as much as I did. I wanted to shout an exuberant, “Yes!” I wanted to whoop to make the passing people stare, but what I did instead was smile shakily at him. “Okay,” I said, so relieved I was almost crying.

Blinking profusely, I followed him to the head of the alley. Though Jenks would have snugged under my hat before, to get out of the rain, it was too much to ask just yet. “Can
you meet me tonight at the church after midnight?” I asked. “I have a few charms to prep before we head out.”

We left the alley together, the lighter gloom making me feel as if we had come out of a black hole. We were both walking on eggshells; the patterns were familiar, but the sensitivities were so very fragile.

“I can do that,” Jenks said apprehensively, glancing up at the rain.

“Good. Good.” I listened to my feet hit the sidewalk, the thumps jarring up my spine. “Do you still have your half of the phone set you gave me?” I could hear the hesitancy in my voice, and I wondered if Jenks could too. I had kept the phone he'd given me for the solstice. Hell, I had almost made it into a shrine.

I popped open Ivy's black umbrella, and Jenks flew under it. Five months ago he would have sat on my shoulder, but even this small show of trust caught at me.

“David brought it over,” he said stiffly, keeping to the distant corner.

“Good,” I said again, feeling stupid. “Can you bring it with you?”

“It's a little big for me to slip into my pocket, but I'll manage.” It was sarcastic and biting, but he was sounding more like the Jenks I knew.

I glanced at him, seeing he was trailing the faintest wisp of silver sparkles. My car was just ahead, and I wondered whether he'd take offense if I offered him a ride home.

“Cowardly ball of spider snot?” Jenks said when I opened the door and he darted inside.

Swallowing hard, I stared across to the sidewalk and the people running for cover as the clouds opened and it began to pour. He was back. I had gotten him back. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start. Breath shaking, I folded the umbrella and ducked inside. “Give me a break,” I said as I started the car and turned the heat on full to warm him up. “I was pressed for time.”

I
held up the black lace top in consideration. Sighing, I decided against it, folding it up and jamming it back into the third drawer down. Sure, I looked good in it, but this was a rescue run, not spring break. Taking the short-sleeve peach-colored cotton shirt instead, I set it atop the jeans already packed in the suitcase my mom had given me for graduation. She insisted it hadn't been a hint, but I reserved my doubts to this day.

Moving to my top drawer, I grabbed enough socks and undies for a week. The church was empty since Ivy was out getting Jenks and his brood. The rain pattered pleasantly on my small stained-glass window propped open with a pencil, getting the sill wet but little else. From the dark garden came the trill of a toad. It mixed well with the soft jazz from the living room.

In the back of my closet I found the red turtleneck sweater I'd stored last week. I shook the hanger from it, carefully folded it, and set it with the rest. I added a pair of running shorts and my favorite black tee with
STAFF
on it that I'd gotten while working Takata's concert last winter. The temp could hit eighty as easily as thirty-five. I sighed, content. Midnight rain, toad song, jazz, and Jenks coming home. It didn't get much better.

My head rose at the creak of the front door. “Hey, it's me,” came Kisten's voice.

And now it was better still. “Back here,” I called, taking
two steps to the hall, one hand on the doorframe as I leaned out. The lights were dim in the sanctuary, his tall silhouette mysterious and attractive as he shook the rain from his full-length slicker.

I ducked back inside and shut my underwear drawer just before Kisten came in, the soft and certain steps of his dress shoes distinct on the hardwood floor. The scent of pizza and someone else's perfume hung about him, and by his carefully styled hair, clean-shaven cheeks, expensive dress slacks and silk shirt, I knew he had come from work. I liked the respectable, financially successful club manager aspect of Kisten as much as his rougher, bad boy image. He could do both equally well.

“Hi, love,” he said, hitting his fake British accent hard to make me smile. A rain-spotted paper grocery bag was in his hands, the top rolled down. I padded forward in my sneakers, having to reach to give him a hug. My fingers played with the damp tips of his hair as I drew away, and he smiled, enjoying the tease.

“Hi,” I said, reaching for the bag. “Is that them?”

Nodding, he gave it to me, and I set it on the bed, opening it and peering inside. As I had asked, there was a pair of sweatpants and a soft flannel sweatshirt.

Kisten looked at the bag, clearly wanting to know why, but all he said was, “Ivy's out?”

“She went to get Jenks because of the rain.” Pensive, I opened a lower drawer and packed another T-shirt. “She missed him as much as me,” I finished softly.

Looking tired, Kisten sat at the head of my bed, his long fingers rolling the top of the bag down. I closed my suitcase but didn't zip it. It was unusual for him to leave Piscary's club mid-hours. Clearly something was bothering him. I straightened, arms crossed, and waited for it.

“I don't think you should go,” he said, his voice serious.

My mouth fell open, surprise shifting to anger when I pieced it together. “Is this about Nick?” I said, turning to my dresser to pack the ungodly expensive bottle of perfume that
kept my natural scent from mixing with a vampire's. “Kisten, I'm over him. Give me some credit.”

“That's not why. Ivy—”

“Ivy!” I stiffened, glancing into the empty hall. “What about her? Is Piscary…”

His slowly moving head said no, and I relaxed a notch. “He's leaving her alone. But she relies on you more than you know. If you go, things might shift.”

Flustered, I jammed the perfume into a zippy bag and dropped it into a pocket in my vanity case. “I'm only going to be gone for a week, maybe two. It's not as if I'm her scion.”

“No. You're her friend. And that's more important than anything else to her right now.”

Arms crossed, I leaned back against my dresser. “This isn't my responsibility—I have my own life,” I protested. “Gods, we share rent. We aren't married!”

Kisten's eyes were dark in the dim light from my table lamp, his brow pinched with worry. “You have coffee with her every day when she wakes up. You're across the hall when she shuts the curtains before going to sleep. That might not mean much to you, but it's everything to her. You're her first real friend in…Damn, I think it's been over ten years.”

“You're her friend,” I said. “And what about Skimmer?”

“You're her only friend not after her blood,” he amended, his eyes sad. “It's different.”

“Well, just crap on that,” I said, picking up my last favorite earring but not knowing what to do with it. Disgusted, I threw it away. “Ivy hasn't said anything to me about not leaving.”

“Rachel…” He stood, coming to take my elbows in his grip. His fingers were warm, and I felt them tighten and relax. From the living room, jazz rose and fell. “She won't.”

I dropped my head, frustrated. “Never once did I tell her I'd be anything but what we are now,” I said. “We aren't sharing a bed or blood or anything! I don't belong to her, and keeping her together isn't my job. Why is this all on me, anyway? You've known her longer than I.”

“I know her past. You don't. She leans on you more because of your ignorance of what she was.” He took a hesitant breath before he continued. “It was ugly, Rachel. Piscary warped her into a viciously savage lover who couldn't separate blood from lust or love. She survived by becoming something she hated, accepting the pattern of self-abuse of trying to please everyone she thought she loved.”

I didn't want to hear this, but when I tried to move, his grip tightened.

“She's better now,” he said, his blue eyes pleading for me to listen. “It took her a long time to break the pattern, and even longer to start to feel good about herself. I've never seen her happier, and like it or not, it's because of you. She loves Skimmer, but that woman is a big part of what Ivy was and how she got there, and if you leave…”

My jaw tightened and I stiffened, not liking this at all. “I am
not
Ivy's keeper,” I said, gut twisting. “I did not sign up for this, Kisten!”

But he only smiled, soft and full of understanding and regret. I liked Ivy—I liked her, respected her, and wished I had half her willpower—but I didn't want anyone relying on me that heavily. Hell, I could hardly take care of myself, much less a powerful, mentally abused vampire.

“She won't ask more than you can give,” he said. “Especially if she needs it. But you did move in with her, and more telling, you stayed when your relationship began to evolve.”

“Excuse me?” I said, trying to pull away. He wouldn't let go, and I jerked from him, falling two steps back.

Kisten's expression had a hint of accusation. “She asked you to be her scion,” he said.

“And I said no!”

“But you forgave her for trying to force you, and you did it without a second thought.”

This was crap. He had heard all of this. Why was he making such a big deal about it? “Only because I jumped on her back and breathed in her ear when we were sparring!” I said. “I pushed her too far, and it wasn't her fault. Besides, she
was scared that if she didn't make me her scion, Piscary was going to kill me.”

Kisten nodded, his calm state helping to dissipate my anger. “It was a no-win situation,” he said softly. “And you both handled it the best you could, but the point is, you did jump on her knowing what it might trigger.”

I took a breath to protest, then turned away, flustered. “It was a mistake, and I didn't think it was right to walk out because
I
made a mistake.”

“Why not?” he insisted. “People leave all the time when someone makes a mistake.”

Frightened, I went to push past him. I had to get out of there.

“Rachel,” he said loudly, jerking me into him. “Why didn't you leave right then? No one would have thought any less of you.”

I took a breath, then let it out. “Because she is my friend,” I said, eyes down, and keeping my voice low so it wouldn't shake. “That's why. And it wouldn't be fair for me to leave because of my mistake, because she…relies on me.”

My shoulders slumped, and Kisten's grip on me eased, pulling me closer.

“Damn it, Kist,” I said, putting my cheek to his shirt and breathing in his scent. “I can hardly take care of myself. I can't save her too.”

“No one said you had to,” he said, his voice rumbling into me. “And no one says it's going to stay this way. Helping to keep you alive and unbound with that scar of yours makes Ivy feel worthwhile—that she's making the world a better place. Do you know how hard that is for a vampire to find? She leans on you harder than me because she feels responsible for you and you owe her.”

There is that,
I thought, remembering how vulnerable my unclaimed vampire scar made me. But my debt to Ivy wasn't why I hadn't left. Nick had said I was making excuses to stay in an unsafe situation, that I had wanted her to bite me. I couldn't believe that. It was just friendship. Wasn't it?

Kisten's hand across my hair was soothing, and I put my arms around his waist, finding comfort in his touch. “If you leave,” he said, “you take her strength.”

“I never wanted this,” I said. How had I become her lodestone? Her savior. All I wanted was to be her friend.

“I know.” His breath moved my hair. “Will you stay?”

I swallowed, not wanting to move. “I can't,” I said, and he gently pushed me back until he could see my face. “Jenks needs me. It's just a quick run. Five hundred miles. How much trouble could Nick and Jax be in? They probably just need bail money. I'll be back.”

Kisten's face was creased, his elegant grace marred by sorrow. The caring he felt for me and for Ivy were mixed together and somehow beautiful. “I know you will. I just hope Ivy is here when you do.”

Uncomfortable, I went to my closet and pretended to shuffle for something. “She's a big girl. She'll be fine. It's only a day's drive.”

He took a breath to say something, then stopped, shifting from foot to foot as he changed his mind. Going back to the bed, he opened the crinkling bag of sweats and looked inside. “What do you want these for anyway? A disguise? Or is it to remember me by?”

Glad at the shift in topics, I turned with my butt-kicking boots in hand and set them by the bed. “Remember you by?”

A faint flush rimmed his ears. “Yeah. I thought you wanted them to put under your pillow or something. So it was like I was there with you?”

Taking the bag from him, I peered into it in speculation. “You wore them already?”

He rubbed a hand across his smooth chin, discomforted. “Ah, just once. I didn't sweat in them or anything. I dated a girl who liked wearing one of my shirts to bed. She said it was like I was holding her all night. I thought it was a, uh, girl thing.”

My smile blossomed. “You mean, like this?” Feeling wicked, I pulled out the sweatshirt and slipped it on over my top. Holding my arms about myself, I shifted back and forth,
my eyes closed and breathing deeply. I didn't care that the reason he smelled good was from a thousand years of evolution to make it easier for him to find prey.

“You wicked, wicked witch,” Kisten whispered. The sudden heat in his voice pulled my eyes open. He took a slow breath, his entire body moving. “Oh God, you smell good.”

“Yeah? What about now?” Grinning, I did jumping jacks, knowing the mixing of our scents would drive him slightly nuts.

As expected, his eyes dilated with a sudden blood lust, flashing to black. “Rachel,” he said, his voice strained. “Don't.”

Giggling, I evaded his reaching hand. “Wait! Wait!” I gasped. “I can make it worse.”

“Stop,” Kisten said, his voice low and controlled. There was a hint of threat in it, and when he reached for me again, I shrieked, darting around the end of the bed. With vampire quickness he followed, my back hitting the wall with a breath-stealing thump as he pinned me.

Eyes crinkled and smiling, I wiggled and twisted, enjoying pushing his buttons. After only a token show of resistance, I stopped, letting him find my mouth.

My breath left me in a slow sound as I eased against him, my arms crunched between us. His grip on my shoulders was firm and dominating. Possessive. But I knew he'd let go if I made one real motion to break free. Soft jazz completed my mood.

His fingers clenched and released, his lips moving lower until his mouth brushed my chin, following the line of my jaw to the hollow under my ear. My heart pounded and I tilted my head. In a surprised sound, my breath escaped when the tingling at my scar surged. With the quickness and sudden shock of a flag snapping in the wind, heat scoured me, following my veins and settling into an insistent pounding—demanding I follow it through to its natural end.

Kisten felt it, and as his breath quickened, I pulled my hands from between us, sending my fingers to the nape of his neck. My eyes closed as I felt his need, his desire, beat
on mine to make it stronger. A sound escaped me as his lips gently worked my old scar. My body rebelled at the surge of passion, and my knees gave way. He was ready for it, holding me firm to him. I wanted this. God, how I wanted it. I should have tried wearing something of his ages ago.

“Rachel,” he whispered, his breathing harsh and heavy with desire.

“What?” I panted, my blood still humming though his lips weren't on my scar anymore.

“Don't ever—wear anything of mine—again. I can't…”

I froze, not understanding. I made a motion to break free, but he held me firm. Fear scoured painfully where passion once ran. My eyes flicked to his, seeing them lost and black, then to his mouth. He wasn't wearing his caps.
Shit, I had pushed him too far
.