Every Which Way But Dead. Ким Харрисон

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СКАЧАТЬ the precise order she kept her desk in had been altered.

      “She was Big Al’s familiar,” I warned. “She needs a few days to find her feet is all.”

      Jenks made an eye-hurting noise with his wings, and Ivy gave me a telling look, her expression shifting to an annoyed wariness when Ceri came to stand before her. The small woman was peering at Ivy in confusion. “You’re a vampire,” she said, reaching to touch Ivy’s crucifix.

      Ivy sprang back with a startling quickness, her eyes flashing black.

      “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I said as I stepped between them, ready for anything. “Ivy, take it easy. She’s been in the ever-after for a thousand years. She may not have seen a living vampire before. I think she’s an Inderlander, but she smells like the ever-after so Jenks can’t tell what she is.” I hesitated, telling her with my eyes and my last sentence that Ceri was an elf, and therefore a loose cannon as far as magic was concerned.

      Ivy’s pupils had dilated to almost a full, vampire black. Her stance was domineering and sexually charged, but she had just slaked her blood lust and so was capable of listening. I shot a quick glance at Ceri, glad to see she wisely hadn’t moved. “We all okay here?” I asked, my voice demanding they both back down.

      Thin lips pressed tight, Ivy turned her back on us. Jenks dropped to my shoulder. “Nicely done,” he said. “Got all your bitches in line, I see.”

      “Jenks!” I hissed, knowing Ivy had heard when her knuckles on her glass turned white. I flicked him off me, and laughing, he rose up and then back down to my shoulder.

      Ceri was standing with her arms confidently at her side, watching Ivy grow more and more tense. “Oh-h-h-h-h,” Jenks drawled. “Your new friend is gonna do something.”

      “Uh, Ceri?” I questioned, heart pounding as the petite woman went to stand beside Ivy at the sink, clearly demanding her attention.

      Pale face tight with a repressed anger, Ivy turned. “What,” she said flatly.

      Ceri inclined her head regally, never taking her green eyes from Ivy’s slowly dilating brown ones. “I apologize,” she said in her high, clear voice, every syllable carefully pronounced. “I’ve slighted you.” Her attention dropped to Ivy’s elaborate crucifix on its silver chain about her neck. “You’re a vampire warrior, and yet you can wear the Cross?”

      Ceri’s hand twitched, and I knew she wanted to touch it. Ivy knew it too. I watched, unable to interfere as Ivy turned to face her. Hip cocked, she gave Ceri a more in-depth onceover, taking in her dried tears, her exquisite ball gown, her bare feet, and her obvious pride and upright carriage. As I held my breath, Ivy took her crucifix off, the chain gathering her hair in front of her as she pulled it from around her neck.

      “I’m a living vampire,” she said as she put the religious icon in the elf’s hand. “I was born with the vampire virus. You know what a virus is, don’t you?”

      Ceri’s fingers traced the lines of the worked silver. “My demon let me read what I wished. A virus is killing my kin.” She looked up. “Not the vampire virus. Something else.”

      Ivy’s gaze darted to me, then returned to the small woman standing just a shade too close to her. “The virus changed me as I was forming in my mother’s womb, making me some of both. I can walk under the sun and worship without pain,” Ivy said. “I’m stronger than you,” she added as she subtly put more space between them. “But not as strong as a true undead. And I have a soul.” She said the last as if she expected Ceri to deny it.

      Ceri’s expression became empty. “You’re going to lose it.”

      Ivy’s eye twitched. “I know.”

      I held my breath, listening to the clock tick and the almost subliminal hum of pixy wings. Eyes solemn, the thin woman held the crucifix out to Ivy. “I’m sorry. That’s the hell from which Rachel Mariana Morgan saved me.”

      Ivy looked at the cross in Ceri’s hand, no emotion showing. “I’m hoping she can do the same for me.”

      I cringed. Ivy had pinned her sanity on the belief that there was a witch magic that might purge the vampire virus from her; that all it would take would be the right spell to let her walk away from the blood and violence. But there wasn’t. I waited for Ceri to tell Ivy that no one was beyond redemption, but all she did was nod, her wispy hair floating. “I hope she can.”

      “Me, too.” Ivy glanced at the crucifix Ceri was extending to her. “Keep it. It doesn’t help anymore.”

      My lips parted in surprise, and Jenks landed upon my big hoop earrings as Ceri placed it about her neck. The elaborately tooled silver looked right against the rich purple and green of her formal gown. “Ivy—” I started, jerking when Ivy narrowed her eyes at me.

      “It doesn’t help anymore,” she said tightly. “She wants it. I’m giving it to her.”

      Ceri reached up, clearly finding peace in the icon. “Thank you,” she whispered.

      Ivy frowned. “Touch my desk again, and I’ll snap every one of your fingers.”

      Ceri took the threat with a light understanding that surprised me. It was obvious she had dealt with vampires before. I wondered where—since vampires couldn’t manipulate ley lines and would therefore make lousy familiars.

      “How about some tea?” I said, wanting something normal to do. Making tea wasn’t normal, but it was close. The pot was steaming, and as I rummaged in a cupboard for a mug good enough for a guest, Jenks snickered, swinging my earring like a tire swing. His kids were flitting into the kitchen in twos and threes—much to Ivy’s annoyance—pulled by the novelty of Ceri. They hovered over her, Jih taking the closest stance.

      Ivy stood defensively before her computer, and after a moment’s hesitation, Ceri sat in the chair farthest from her. She looked lost and alone as she fingered the crucifix about her neck. As I searched the pantry for a tea bag, I wondered how I was going to make this work. Ivy wasn’t going to like another roommate. And where would we put her?

      The accusing clatter of Ivy’s pens was loud as she rearranged her pencil cup. “Got one,” I said in relief as I finally found a tea bag. Jenks left me to bother Ivy, chased off my earring by the steam drifting up as I poured the boiling water into the mug.

      “Here, Ceri,” I said, waving the pixies away from her and setting it on the table. “Do you want anything with it?”

      She looked at the cup as if she’d never seen one before. Eyes widening, she shook her head. I hesitated, wondering what I had done wrong. She looked like she was ready to cry again. “Is it okay?” I asked, and she nodded, her thin hand shaking as she took the mug.

      Jenks and Ivy were staring at her. “You sure you don’t want sugar or anything?” I asked, but she shook her head. Narrow chin trembling, she brought the cup to her lips.

      Brow furrowed, I went to get the coffee grounds out of the fridge. Ivy rose to rinse the carafe. She leaned close to me, running the water to blur her words as she muttered, “What’s wrong with her? She’s crying over her tea.”

      I spun. “Ceri!” I exclaimed. “If you want some sugar, it’s okay!”

      She met my gaze, СКАЧАТЬ