The Outlaw Demon Wails (22 page)

“Kisten's murderer bit me, too,” I said, and he paled, flying up to the counter and out of my reach. “I remembered it,” I said, finding the strength to sit up at his show of guilt. “The vampire tried to bind me, and I think you knew it. Start talking, pixy.”
I can't do this anymore. I'm playing with fire, and I have to stop.

In a burst of sparkles, Jenks darted away. Keasley's sneakers on his bare feet moved uneasily, and I stood up, angry and almost out of my mind with frustration. Seeing Ivy on the floor, I gritted my teeth and refused to cry. I was so messed up. My hand gripped my right shoulder until it hurt, the memory of Kisten's death heavy on me.
This isn't fair. This is bloody-hell not fair!

“You were there, Jenks,” I said as I wiped my face to get the hair out of my eyes. “You said you were with me all night. Who bit me? Who gave me the forget potion!” I looked at Keasley, betrayal an angry lump in my gut. “Was it you?” I barked, and the old man shook his head, so sadly that I believed him.

“Rache,” Jenks stammered, pulling my attention to him as he backed up on the counter. “Don't. You were crazy. You were going to hurt yourself. If I hadn't, you'd be dead.”

My lips parted, and I tried to breathe.
Jenks had given me the potion?

I felt like I was going to pass out again. Reaching behind me, I tipped my dissolution vat of salt water over Ivy. Keasley shifted his faded sneakers as it poured over the counter and onto the floor, drenching her. I didn't take my eyes from Jenks as she came to, sputtering.

“You were there,” I repeated to bring Ivy up to speed as she scrambled up behind me. “You said you were with me all night. You were there when Kisten's murderer bit me. Tell me who did it!” I screamed, my throat hurting.

My pulse was fast as I stood over Jenks. I was mad. Scared. Terrified he would tell me it had been Ivy. Maybe I was bound, and she couldn't smell it because it had been her. Was that why I had said yes to her today?

Oh, God. Please, no.

Jenks's wings were a blur, but he didn't move, his attention going from me to Ivy as we took three steps to loom over him. My socks were soaked with salt water, and I could hear Ivy's frustration and anger that my magic had dropped her. But Jenks had taken her out, not me.

“I don't know!” he yelped when Ivy smacked a hand on the stainless-steel counter and a splash of salt water hit his wing. “Kisten was dead, really dead, when I caught up with you,” he said, shamefaced. “I never saw his murderer. Rachel, I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do. You were crying. Acting crazy. You said Kisten had bitten his murderer, mixed their undead blood to kill them both for good.”

Ivy groaned and turned away, and I touched her shoulder, not looking from Jenks.

“But it didn't work,” Jenks said, gaze darting between us, “'cause Kisten hadn't been dead long enough, so only Kisten died right away. You were going to go after the bastard to make sure he was dead. Rache, you wouldn't have survived, even if the vampire was almost dead. You'd been bitten. You can't stand up to a dead vampire. You can't.”

My jaw clenched, and I closed my eyes, trying to remember as Ivy shook silently beside me. Nothing. Only stark fear and a throbbing in my foot and my arm where someone had gripped me too tightly. It was a pain born almost three months ago, as sharp and real as if I had just been slapped.

“You gave me the forget potion,” I whispered to Jenks. “Why?” I gestured helplessly. “Was it worth all this? I want to know who did it!”

“Talk, pixy!” Ivy barked as she spun. Her pupils were dilated, and red spotted her cheeks.

Jenks stood miserably before us, black dust sifting from him. “I had to.” He backed up, his wings fanning into motion when his heel hit a napkin. Ivy snatched for him, and he darted away. “I made the spell myself. I put it together and got your blood into it. You were going to go after Kisten's killer!” he exclaimed. “You would have died! I'm only four freaking inches tall. I don't have many options! And I can't lose you now!”

Ivy slumped with her elbow on the counter and her forehead in her cupped hand. Her hair hid her face, and I wondered what she was feeling.
Damn it, it wasn't fair. We had done it, managed a balance, and then my memory had to return and screw it all up.

“That vampire would have killed you,” Jenks begged. “I thought if you just forgot, time would take care of everything. You're not bound, so everything's okay! It's
okay
, Rache!”

I prayed Jenks was right, but a shiver ran through me as I put a hand to my neck and covered my bites.
God help me, I've never felt this vulnerable.
I had been playing with vampires. I'd believed I had been bound. I couldn't…I couldn't do this anymore.

Ivy took a ragged breath. Her brow furrowed, and as she stood upright, I saw an inner pain deep behind her eyes, cemented to her soul. “Excuse me,” she said softly, and I jerked when she darted out. She fled with that eerie vampire speed, her feet squeaking on the wet linoleum. I reached out after her, and her bathroom door shut with a loud thump.

I looked at Jenks.
My life sucks.

Tired, I leaned back against the sink and tried to figure it out. I didn't feel good. I was running on a lack of sleep, lack of food, and lack of understanding. I didn't want to think anymore. I just wanted to hide or cry on someone's shoulder. My eyes pricked with the warmth of tears, and I turned away. I wasn't going to cry in front of Keasley. Ceri and I were arguing. Ivy was hiding. I didn't have any friends to turn to. Depressed, I glanced at the two men, both staring at me with an awkward concern. I had to get out of here.

“Jenks,” I said breathily, looking at the salt-strewn kitchen. “I'm going to my mom's. Keasley, I'm sorry. I have to go.”

Feeling airy and unreal, light-headed, I pushed past the solemn witch and followed the creeping path of the water into the hallway. I was headed for the door, and I grabbed my bag in passing. I couldn't stay here. My mom might just be nuts enough to understand and sane enough to help. Besides, she might know a charm to reverse a forget potion. And then Ivy and I were going to nail Kisten's killer to a broomstick.

My mom's kitchen had changed since the last time I'd sat at the table eating cereal. A strong herb scent was heavy in the air, though I didn't see any. There weren't any spell pots or ceramic spoons in the sink either, but the redwood smell rolling off of her when she'd answered the door in her fuzzy leopard-print robe told me that she'd been spelling heavily recently.

Now she smelled like lilac, with only the faintest aroma of redwood to mar it. I thought it funny she was trying to hide from me that she was making and selling charms under the table. Like I would turn my mom in? The I.S. wasn't necessarily generous in their pensions to widows—even those whose spouses worked in the Arcane Division—and it probably wasn't enough to meet the soaring property taxes of what had once been a middle-class neighborhood.

The afternoon light coming in the kitchen window was bright as I sat glum and weary, eating cereal out of a cracked bowl in my usual spot. Lucky Charms. I didn't know which was more disturbing, the possibility that the box was the same one from the last time I'd had breakfast here, or the possibility that it wasn't.

My gaze shifted to the pile of supermarket tabloids that my mother
loved, and I tugged one out of the pile when
MOURNING SISTER FINDS KITTY LITTER IN TWIN'S URN
caught my eye. Below it was a short article on Cincy's colorful history of grave robbing and how bodies were again turning up missing on both sides of the river. A frown came over me. There was only one reason why cremated bodies were replaced with kitty litter—an offering of mortal ashes kept a summoned demon from appearing out of place, like outside the circle. I usually didn't bother with it, but the demons generally crashed my life, not the other way around.

The reminder of Al prompted me to tug my bag across the table. I hadn't given my mother a reason for showing up and falling into an exhausted sleep on top of my old coverlet on my bed. Depression had replaced my fear at the thought that I'd been bound, and the beginnings of forgiveness to Jenks for wiping my memory had taken hold. He had done the right thing. I could easily imagine the state I had been in, and making me forget had probably saved my life. A witch with a vamp scar couldn't stand up to the undead. Ivy would find Kisten's killer. I'd take care of the demons.

Rummaging in my bag, I pulled out my phone and looked at the screen. I had called Jenks the moment I'd woken up to check on Ivy. She was depressed, he said, which was workable. I wasn't looking forward to going back to the church and trying to patch things up. I didn't know what I was going to say. Despite everything, I was still happy that she was there. Maybe we could just ignore that she'd put four new holes in my neck and that I'd flaked out believing I'd been bound to Kisten's killer. I sighed as I checked the time.

It was just after three, and still no call from Glenn or David. Glenn would get bent out of shape if I bugged him, but David wouldn't.

The clock above the sink ticked, and I listened to the ugly thing while I scrolled through my short list for David's number. Robbie and I had bought the clock for Mother's Day ages ago, when we still thought the bug-eyed witch whose gaze and broom swept back and forth in time with the ticks was cool. There was a spot of white ceramic where the paint had chipped off the broom when it had fallen, and I wondered why she still had it. It was really, really nasty.

My attention went back to the phone when the line clicked open and
David's confident hello filled my ear. “Hi, David,” I said. “Got anything yet?”

I heard him hesitate, then ask cautiously, “Didn't your mom tell you?”

He knows I'm at my mom's?
“Uh, no,” I said, scrambling. “How do you know I'm at my mom's?”

David chuckled. “She answered your cell phone this afternoon while you were sleeping. We had a nice chat. Your mom is…different.”

Different. How politically correct could you get? “Thanks,” I said dryly. “I take it we're not going out this afternoon?” If it had been otherwise, I thought she would have woken me. Maybe.

“I've got the claim sitting on my desk,” he said, and I heard papers rustling. “Tomorrow at two is the earliest I could nail the woman to a time.” He hesitated, then quietly offered, “I'm sorry. I know you wanted to settle this today, but that's the best I could get.”

I sighed and looked at the clock again. The idea of hiding in my church another night had all the appeal of painting Trent's toenails. I wouldn't be able to avoid Ivy either. “Two tomorrow is great,” I said, thinking I ought to use the time to stock my charm cupboard for an assault on black witches. I'd have to move everything to hallowed ground, though. What a pain in the butt. “Thanks, David,” I said when I remembered I was in the middle of a conversation. “I really think it's them.”

“Me, too. I'll pick you up tomorrow at one. Get yourself dolled up, will you?” he said, amusement heavy in his voice. “I'm not taking you out in leather again.”

My brow furrowed. “Dolled up?” I started, but the line was dead.

I stared at the phone for a moment, then smiled as I closed it and tucked it away. Listening to the quiet house, I ate my pink hearts, saved for last as always. Slowly my mood returned to melancholy. Someone had killed Kisten. That same someone had tried to bind me to them so I wouldn't tear their freaking head off. I had worked so hard to live with Ivy and stay unbound, and then a faceless monster killed my boyfriend and nearly bound me to it. Just that fast, my life could have been changed beyond my control.
Damn it all to hell. I can't do this. I can't risk it. I can't…I
can't
let Ivy bite me again. Ever.

The thought settled into me like lead. I had been living with Ivy for over a year, and now that we finally got it to work, I get smart? A shiver went through me, rattling the spoon against the bowl. I couldn't play this game anymore. I had briefly lived thinking I had been bound, and they had been the most terrifying moments of my life, turning me from a confident woman into a terrified plaything with no control over the degradation her life was to become. That the fear turned out to be baseless didn't make the lesson any less real. I could not let a vampire break my skin again. Would not. And I didn't know how I was going to tell Ivy.

Worried, I ate the last spoonful of marshmallows. I listened carefully to the silent house, and once I was sure my mom wasn't coming, I picked the bowl up and drank the sweet milk. My spoon clattered into the empty bowl and I sat back with my coffee, not yet ready to move from the security of memories that muffled my thoughts of the future. There was a small red cloth bag at the back of the table that held the charms my mom had deemed necessary for my Halloween costume. It didn't seem to matter anymore. Unless David's lead panned out and I nailed the demon summoners, I'd be manning the door instead of partying tomorrow. And wearing sexy leather to give candy and cherry tomatoes to eight-year-olds had absolutely no appeal.

I sipped my coffee and stared at my phone, willing it to ring. I wondered if I should call Glenn. If my mom was answering my phone, he wouldn't tell her anything.

My hand was reaching for the phone when the comfortably familiar pace of my mom's steps came from the front of the house. I pulled back. No need to worry her more than our coming conversation would. I still had to ask her about reversing a forget potion.

“Thanks for breakfast, Mom,” I said as she bustled in and headed for the coffeemaker. She'd been looking for a coat for me, and I could hear it tumbling in the dryer to air out. “I really appreciate you letting me crash here this morning.”

She eased herself into the chair across from me, setting her coffee mug gently on the linoleum table, whose pattern was faded by time and scrubbings. “I don't get to be Mom much anymore, especially when you
won't tell me what's wrong,” she said, her eyes on my two red-rimmed bites, and a stab of guilt made the sweet milk on my tongue go tasteless.

“Um, sorry,” I said, shifting my empty bowl away from her sharp gaze. I felt sick. Memory potions were illegal because they didn't break cleanly. Unlike amulets and ley line charms, they created a physical change in the brain to block the memories, and physical changes couldn't be reversed with salt like chemical changes could. I needed a counter-spell.

Gathering my courage, I blurted, “Mom, I need to reverse a memory potion.”

Eyebrows high, she looked at my neck again. “You want a Pandora charm? For who?”

She wasn't nearly as mad as I'd thought she'd be. Heartened by that as much as her knowing there was an actual name for what I wanted, I winced. “Me.”

My voice had been pensive, and hearing my guilt, my mother's face grew almost scared. “What do you remember now that you had forgotten?” she demanded.

Cradling my coffee in my hands, I tried to warm my soul. The furnace was on against the cold afternoon, but it wasn't able to touch the chill at the pit of my being. My fingers traced the lines of Kisten's bracelet. It was all I had of him—that and the pool table. “Being bitten by the vampire who killed Kisten,” I whispered.

Her entire posture melted, and sighing with forgiveness, she reached to take my hand. Her frumpy dress made her look middle aged, but her hands gave her away. I wished she'd stop living like she was nearing the end of her life. It hadn't even started yet.

“Sweetheart,” she said, and I pulled my gaze to hers to see it pinched in compassion. “I'm so sorry. Maybe you should forget about it. Why do you even want to remember that?”

“I have to,” I said, wiping my eye and pulling out of her reach. “Someone killed him. I was there.” I blinked fast, trying to rein in my emotions. “I have to find out. I have to know.”

“If you made yourself forget, then you won't like what you find,” she
said. An old fear unrelated to me simmered in the back of her thoughts, showing in her face. “Let it go.”

“It was Jenks—” I started, but she took both my hands, stopping my words.

“Tell me,” she said suddenly. “What were you doing when you remembered? What triggered it?”

I stared at her. A hundred dodges flitted through me, but nothing came out of my mouth. And as I sat there, it suddenly occurred to me that I had been spending so much time with my mother these last three months not because of her, but because of me, fragile after Kisten's death. I lost it then, dropping my head onto my folded arms on the table and choking the tears back. This was why I'd come running to my mother, not some stupid charm I knew she didn't have. I had thought with the right spell I could help Ivy. I had thought I could help myself. But now, I couldn't help either of us. We had gotten what we wanted, and it set us back further than if we had let it alone.

I couldn't look at my mom, but there was the scrape of her chair on the linoleum, and an ugly bark of a sob escaped me when her hand landed on my shoulder. Damn it, I had to grow up and be safe, stop reacting when I should be acting. I had to live with a vampire without even the cushion of pretending there would ever be a bite between us, which just might send Ivy away. I wouldn't blame her. But I didn't want her to leave. I liked her. Hell, I probably loved her. And now it was done. We couldn't go back and pretend that there was anything ahead of us.

“Rachel, honey,” my mother whispered, close and gentle, with the scent of lilac soothing me as much as her voice. “It's okay. I'm sorry you're confused, but sometimes souls are meant to be together, and the gears just miss. Ivy's a vampire, but she's been your best friend for over a year. You'll find a way to make this work.”

“You know?” I warbled, lifting my head to find a shared sorrow in her expression.

“It would be hard to miss those bites,” she said. “And if anyone other than Ivy put them there, you'd be in the morgue identifying a body, not sitting in my kitchen pretending nothing is wrong.” I blinked up at her as
she shifted my hair and made a worried face at my neck. “Jenks called this morning and told me what happened. He worries about you, you know.”

My lips parted and I drew out of her reach. Great, who knew what he told her? “Mom.”

But she only pulled out a chair to sit beside me, her hand still on my shoulder. “I loved your father with all my being. Don't take potions to forget. It leaves gaps, and then you don't remember why you feel the way you do. It makes things worse.”

I hadn't administered it to myself, but that my mother had taken a memory potion was news to me. “You used one?” I asked, wondering if this was why my mom was so nuts, and she turned her lips in, biting them, clearly trying to decide what to say.

“Oh, hell, who hasn't?” she said, then grew sad. “Once,” she added softly. “When it got really bad. They never last forever, and there is no charm to bring it all back. The spell to reverse it was lost before we migrated to this side of the lines. Trent might have it, but getting an elf to share spells is like getting a troll out from under a bridge.”

I wiped my face, the tears gone. “You know he's…”

She smiled, proud of me, as she patted my hand. “Tell me if you get that stingy boy to let you into his library. Honestly, you think he'd have some respect for our family, but he acts like you're the enemy, not his saving grace.”

“Whoa, hold up.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, then shifted it back forward to hide my neck. All thoughts of Kisten, and Ivy, and everything, were shoved to the back of my mind. “I'm not Trent's saving grace. He's a murdering SOB. I put him in jail once, and I'd do it again if I thought it would stick.”

My mother grimaced, her fingers sliding from mine when she drew back. “Small wonder he doesn't like you. You have to stop that. He's going to have something you want someday.”

Like a Pandora charm?
I exhaled, slumping back into my chair. “Mom…,” I complained, and she lifted one eyebrow.