Entre l'Amour et la Mort, Chapter 8

[sav8801]

Title: Entre l'Amour et la Mort
Author: P-L
Word count: 5737
Fandom: The Hollows, AKA the Rachel Morgan Series, Rachel/Ivy
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Those characters belong to Kim Harrison.  I'm just having a little fun with them.
Summary: A run gone wrong sets events into motion, events that lead to a bittersweet realisation... and the birth of Rachel's worst nightmare.


“Tink’s diaphragm, that girl is the craziest of crazies I’ve ever seen.” I could barely hear Jenks’ voice over the roar of Erica’s car speeding away, but from what I could perceive, he was shaken up. Hell, I couldn’t exactly blame him; if my stomach hadn’t been empty, the interior of the car would probably have been splattered with an interesting palette of colours. Just thinking about the sheer number of brushes with death we’d had during that twenty minutes trip was enough to make me wobbly. But, in all fairness, something positive had come out of this unpleasant near-death experience. I would never have trouble riding with Ivy ever again; Erica was absolutely right, next to her, her big sister drove like a little old lady. In an electric wheelchair. Without batteries. Uphill. Facing the wind.

I’m killing the next person who calls me an adrenaline junky. That’s an adrenaline junky; next to her, I’m the safest, most boring person in the world. No wonder Ivy didn’t have a problem with my quirks; Erica had probably gotten her used to everything I could throw at her...

“Where’d you think she got her license? The internet? Or maybe the bottom of a cereal box? Or maybe it was her family’s money? Yeah, that’s got to be it; you lunkers would do anything for money, including giving a driver’s license to... to...” Jenks couldn’t seem to find a word strong enough to describe Erica as a driver. “And she laughed, Rache! She laughed all the way.”

“I know, I was there.” And yes, her laughter had chilled me to the bone. Almost ramming an eighteen wheeler was not my idea of fun. “God, Jenks, I thought your daughters were worse? I’m not that shook up.”  Huge lie there.

“I take it back! I sooooo take it back. I’d rather have all of them crying at once for the rest of my days than ride in her car again! And her swearing! She almost burned my ears off. ME!”

Yes, it had been that bad. Listening to her, you would’ve thought everyone else was a menace and she wasn’t the one happily violating every traffic law ever written. A seaman would have blushed.

“Anyway, I’m never riding with another Tamwood ever again. Later Rache. I’ll be out back if you need me. Just give me fifteen before you get in trouble, ‘kay? I got some grovelling to do.” He actually sounded eager to do it, and I knew why. Pixy grovelling was rated R... The man had fifty-four kids, and one very happy wife.

“Yeah, see you, Jenks. Tell Matalina I said hi for me.” I watched as the pixy flew over the church, the golden dust sifting from him making him look like a shooting star against the night sky.

It wasn’t that cold, but I wasn’t exactly dressed for the weather, still in my tank top as I was, and so my skin broke into goosebumps. I hurried up the stone steps leading up to our front door, the cold, solid oak door meeting my shoulder with almost bruising force as I pushed it open, my eagerness to get in a warmer place making me use more strength than necessary. I slipped past the doors and shut them close, sealing the cold air behind, and let out a contented sigh. As always it was damn good to be home.

The foyer beyond the doors was familiar and comforting, kept in careful order, save for one, unfamiliar plastic bag I almost tripped on. Picking it up, I realised it was an evidence bag, the seal on it broken, one that contained a familiar object, my cherry red splat gun, as well as a slip of paper.

I thought you might want this back. Glenn’s neat, clean handwriting adorned one side of the bag. Your payment’s inside. P.S. Tamwood’s out of the woods, no pun intended. You owe me some spaghetti sauce.

I owe you a lot more than that. I thought with a wry smile, glad to have that weight off my shoulders; most everything else I could have handled by myself, but not the legal stuff. I just didn’t have the political clout.

I pulled the gun from the bag and checked it over, finding it was, at first glance, in working order. It was empty, of course, which meant I’d have to stir a fresh batch of sleepy-time potions. And those I’d loaded hadn’t been a day old, either. Bummer...

The check in there was enough to cover this month’s rent and have a little left too, which I’d probably put into our common central air fund. Last summer had been hell, and I didn’t want to go through heat wave after heat wave again. I twirled the gun once and slipped it into the hem of my leather pants, the cool plastic against my bare skin reminding me again of Ivy’s finger exploring the small of my back and creeping up my spine. My scar shot a single spark before I quelled the memory and filed it back in the “embarrassing Ivy moments” folder of my brain. It was getting crowded in there, but I still preferred an embarrassing moment to a “Ivy almost killed me” moment. In comparison, it had been a comfortingly long time since I’d added anything in there.

I couldn’t help but sigh, depressed at the thought; she had tried so damn hard to make things work, we both had, and now, it looked like it might have been in vain.

My steps echoed loudly in the empty sanctuary as I made my way through it. The enormous, open area had, hopefully, found its final purpose as a reception area and a second living room late last year, after being a sparring area and an impromptu conservatory for Ivy’s piano, as well as the place I settled the organised, seldom used chaos otherwise known as my desk. It was cozy, and the sanctuary brought a feeling of peace I usually enjoyed, but something was missing, and not amongst the furniture. In fact, it wasn’t just the sanctuary, the whole church’s usual aura of safety felt absent now, which was stupid. Some of Jenks’ kids were standing watch near the ceiling, and I knew the whole clan was within shouting distance. The sanctity wasn’t a problem anymore either, so what was it? I should have felt ridiculously safe, not edgy... I was probably more shaken than I thought by the day’s events. Shock could be a real bitch...

I stepped past my door, stopping just long enough to kick off my booths into my room, a sigh of relief slipping past my lips as I did; these were my favourite vamp-made booths, usually sinfully comfortable, but after wearing them for almost a full day. In my stocking feet I padded into the church’s industrial sized kitchen. I had thought I’d be going straight to bed, but I didn’t like the insecure feeling creeping up on me. For the first time since I’d moved here, I felt the need to sleep with a loaded gun under my pillow, and to do that, I had to stir a fresh batch of sleep potions, which I was too tired to do without some caffeine.

ithout even thinking about it, I walked to the coffee machine, filled it with water and pressed the “on” button. It took me a moment to realise having to change the grounds never even crossed my mind; Ivy always threw out the old ones and had a fresh load of beans ready for whoever would be up first in the morning. It was routine now, but doing it so seamlessly made me realise just how ingrained into my life Ivy had become, not just in moments of crisis but also on a day-to-day basis. It was enough to give me pause.

Is Ivy’s absence really what’s bothering me so much? No, that couldn’t be it. Our comforting routine, that I wouldn’t deny meant a lot to me, had been just about blown to hell today, sure, but Ivy had been gone for such a short time. I’d never felt like this when she slept over at one of her “friends”’ place, which happened sometimes as often as twice a week.

But then, she isn’t sleeping over, she’s in a hospital with a hole in her gut, and god knows when she’ll come out...

I shook my head. This didn’t make any sense. It was much more likely that I felt a little paranoid because I almost died than because my fanatically loyal vamp best friend-protector was absent for now... right? Right, that made a lot more sense.

I poured a mug of hot, black, heavenly coffee and went to the island counter to gather my ingredients. Herbs, my third largest spell pot, a cutting board and a simple kitchen knife, along with my set of ceramic spoons; I gathered and organised everything at my usual spot facing the garden window. Ivy’s antique, solid oak table, carefully organised into her makeshift desk, stood between me and the outside view. Not that there had been that much to look at in the last few months, not since Ivy had bought Jenks and his family new accommodations outside.

A greenhouse. An honest-to-god greenhouse, which she had bought shortly before the first snows and claimed was a selfish, early solstice gift, stating that she had, quote “found Jenks’ kids’ in her underwear drawer one too many times, and couldn’t stand having no privacy for another five months”. Yeah, right; having Jenks’ family living in the church with us was an exercise in patience, but Ivy had a lot more of that than I did, and I managed.  Buying it must have taken a pretty hefty chunk out of her finances, and let’s just say that her cold, distant image took a massive pounding that night she had the thing installed.

We both knew the reason why she had bought the large structure that pretty much obstructed the view of the yard now; the fact that Jenks and his wife were both nearing the end of their lives drove her as insane as much as myself, and she was taking steps towards helping them survive winter. With Matalina getting sicker and sicker during summer, it was only a matter of time before she went and Jenks followed.   The greenhouse offered them the best climate possible as well as fresh food, even in the dead of winter, as well as ideal conditions for them to spend the coming months. They improved their chances of surviving, and me and Ivy could get our privacy back from their brood. Everybody wins.

My herbs cut and ready, I gathered them, pushing away from the island counter towards the gas stove I used for spells. The kitchen was a “do it yourself” witch’s dream, with two ovens, so I didn’t have to cook and spell at the same space, more counter space than I knew what to do with and everything I needed to prep dry ingredients.

The dry stifling of pixy wings made me look up from my spell preparation.

“Hey, Rache! Still up? I thought you’d be heading straight for bed, what’s cookin’?”

“Oh, hey Jenks. Just some sleepy-time potions. I wanted to load this” I pulled the splat gun out of the waist band of my pants and placed it next to the oven, “before going to bed, that’s all.”

“Shaken up?” He asked. “Today was rough, even for you.”

“Not that bad, I just...” I hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, a little. I...” I turned to face Jenks, and was almost blinded by the radiance of his smile. And he was looking squarely at my neck.

I’m so going to slap Ivy upside the head for this one... This damn hickey was a bottomless source of embarrassment, it seemed.

“Is there any chance you’ll laugh it off and leave me alone, Jenks?” I groaned, turning away from him to hide the blush I felt creeping up on my face, my hand raising to cover the angry red mark. I’d been dreading this; as great a friend as Jenks could be, his potential to be a pain in the ass was reversely proportional to his size.

“Laugh it off!?” He shrilled, making me do a double take. “Tinks knocks your knickers, Rache, I’m glad. Heck, I’m super glad! What’s stronger than glad? Ecstatic? Yeah, that’s it, I’m ecstatic. It’s about time you let things move forward.”

“What?” Okay, this I hadn’t expected...

“Okay, it’s kinda sad that Ivy had to get shot for you to realise you love her, but crap, Rache, it’s better than you passing up on it altogether, uh?”

“Jenks, I don’t think you understand what really happened...”

“Whaat?” He drawled, smiling and winking knowingly. “So she got a little carried away. It’s not like she bit you. Damn, she’s come a long way, a few months ago, that would have been a bite mark.”

“Jenks...” He looked happy, proud even. Damn it all to hell, he looked so happy thinking that Ivy and I were finally together, and I had to take that away from him. I could pretend with Erica, but not with him.

“Jenks, yes, you’re right, she’s come a long way, and yeah, she... kissed me, but... but I didn’t ask for it.”

I wish I could take it back as soon as those words crossed my lips. I averted my eyes, unable to bear looking at him, the disappointment on his face was just so raw.

“I had a nightmare about her. A bad one.” I explained, still unable to look at him. “When I woke up, I was so relieved that she was okay and...” I sighed, unsure whether to tell him or not about our argument. “I hugged her, and one thing led to another and before I knew it, she was kissing me.” There. I said it. It wasn’t even that far from the truth.

“So you two...” He trailed off.

“She was high on painkillers at the time, so we’re okay, but we’re not, you know, together now or anything.”

“Okay...” There was a moment of awkward silence, only broken by the sound of boiling water. I added the herbs and stirred with jerky, nervous motions. Ten bucks that this wasn’t over yet...

“Hum, Rache, I know this isn’t really any of my business, but how’s your blood balance coming along?”

There it was, the question I dreaded the most, although I had honestly thought that Ivy would be the one to let the cat out of the bag, not me. I silently hated myself for thinking she would do that; we had both agreed to keep this tidbit of information between us.

“It’s not...” I couldn’t, I wouldn’t lie to him, but dammit, just saying those words hurt. I had to swallow the lump in my throat to force the words out. “I won’t do it, Jenks. I won’t share blood with her again. I can’t.” Why does saying this hurt so damn much?

Jenks looked like he just received bad news he’d been expecting. He nodded once before sitting, arms and legs crossed, on the counter, muttering something that sounded like “should’ve known”.

“Well, this whole stinking, purple fairy crap of a mess just makes a lot more sense now, doesn’t it? No wonder Ivy’s been so miserable these last few months...” He looked up at me, his green eyes almost empty. It was so dead wrong to see him like this. “Why, Rache?”

“Jenks, I...” What could I say?

“What’s changed, Rache? Please, just tell me! She’s tried so damn hard to fix herself for you and now that she’s ready, you’re telling me you won’t do it?! Why?”

“Jenks, what we do or don’t do together is none of your business! I... She’s okay with it.” Or at least she had been, until she realised I was really all she ever wanted all her life and she just about lost me. I set the cow-shaped kitchen timer to fifteen minutes, and feeling the need to sit down, slumped into one of Ivy’s chairs.

“She won’t leave over this... She won’t.” I whispered, burying my face in my arms. There was barely any room for me to do so on the antique table. Ivy had just about claimed all the space for her impromptu desk. Just has I had claimed the island counter for myself. We lived together still, but we shared less now than we had in more than a year. Damn it all to hell.

“Why don’t you want to share blood with her again, Rachel?” “Rachel”. Damn, he was really bothered.

“Because... Because for thirty seconds of my life, I thought I’d been bound, Jenks. I want to let her bite me, but for just a moment I thought I’d been bound to Kisten’s killer, and those thirty seconds have been the most frightening of my life.” I felt tears stinging in my eyes, and blinked rapidly so they wouldn’t spill. “I can’t risk this again, Jenks.”

“What?! But Ivy... Ivy would never do that to you! Crap on my daisies, the woman just took a bullet for you! How much proof do you need?!” He flitted over to me, his dust an angry red color. “She loves you enough to throw away her own soul, and you damn well know she’s scared shitless of losing it! I’m positive she would rather die than make you her shadow, and you won’t trust her with this?!”

“She asked to bind me once, remember!?” I shouted back at him, anger feeling better, or maybe not as bad, than heartache. “Some part of her wants me to be her plaything, and I can’t risk it!”

There was a moment of silent, choking tension. A look of incredulousness joined the anger scrunching up Jenks’ youthful face.

“I can’t believe this!” He scoffed bitterly. “It was Piscary who pushed her into trying to bind you, and because of what he made her do, you won’t trust her? It was her love for you that gave her the strength to break free from him!”

“You don’t know what happened between us, bug!” It was like my words broke through a dam in my heart. Hot tears burned down my cheeks, tears of anger and loss over what Ivy and I could have been.

“Shit.” I swore softly, wiping the moisture away. “You have no idea what happened between me and Ivy, Jenks.”

“Of course I don’t, you stupid-ass witch!” His words were still harsh, but he sounded considerably softer now.   “You didn’t talk to me! Son of a fairy whore, Rache, I thought we were all past your bloody issues with trust.”

“It wasn’t any of your business, dammit.” I said half-heartedly. It hurt too much to fight him.

“None of my business, eh? Just look at yourself for a second, would you? You’re a mess. And Ivy’s been miserable for months now. You two are family, and what makes you guys hurt this bad is damn well my business!”

I looked up at Jenks. He was striking his best Peter Pan pose, hands on his hips and head held high, a picture of righteous anger and strength. That he was four inches tall didn’t lessen the impact in any way.

“What do you want me to say?” I whispered, defeated.

“You could start with everything, and we’ll go from there.” He suggested with a sad smile.

So I did. Everything that happened, the merging of Ivy’s and my aura, the fear, our agreement not to do it again but still stay together, the kiss in her hospital room and my subsequent blunder. I felt a weight lifting off my chest with every word I spoke. He was right. I should have talked to him. He was more than a sometimes annoying partner and backup, he was a friend, one of the best a girl could ask for.

“So now you know.” I said finally after an exhausting length of time. The timer rang, and I rose to continue my spell prep. The familiar motions were comforting next to the uncertain future looming over me. The sound of Jenks’ soft chuckling made me glance back at the table. He was lying on his back, his dragonfly wings spread beneath him.

“Oh, Rache, you’re so totally in love with Ivy...” He snickered.

“What? No, I’m n... Why would you say that, I’m not! Wh...”

“Come on, now. You eat drug lords for breakfast, master vamps for lunch and take a stroll in the Ever After for dinner with your demon friends. You can say no to the lure of Ivy’s bite, you’re maybe the strongest, at the very least the second strongest lunker I’ve ever met, and you’re still afraid that you’d say “yes” if Ivy asked to bind you. You’re afraid of what you might do out of love for her!” He looked almost giddy.

I was frozen for a short while before I could answer.

“Jenks, that doesn’t even make sense! I’m not...” The smell of burned, messed-up magic made me look back at the boiling, roving mass of fluids in front of me.

“Crap on toast, look what you made me do!” Could this day turn any worse? Don’t answer that...

I scrambled for the box of salt I kept in a nearby cupboard and poured a massive amount into the spell pot. Rule one of earth magic; when in doubt, salt and start over. I’d have to scrub the damn thing over for half of forever before I could use it again, but at least I wouldn’t knock myself out with a spell misfire.

Angry at the whole world, I loudly dumped the whole mess into the sink. Ivy would have had a fit over me crapping up our kitchen like that, but hell, Ivy wasn’t here, so I took advantage. When the cat is away, the mice come to play. Who says I’m not a hardcore optimist?

“You’re wrong, Jenks.” I muttered, hunched over Ivy’s usual “count to ten before you rip Rachel’s head off” spot.

“No, you’re just an idiot.” He answered, smug. “Hell, you’ve both been the definition of moronic ever since you started gearing your relationship towards something more.”

“Uh?”

“Just answer this one, as honestly as you can, ‘kay?” He said, and I nodded hesitatingly. “If Ivy had been a guy, do you honestly believe you two wouldn’t be married by now? Honestly?”

My mouth hung. Closed. Hung open again. Not a word came out.

“Exactly. You’re passing up on what could be the damn best relationship you had in a long while, just because she’s not a guy and it makes you uncomfortable to find out if it’s an issue or not. Crap, Rache, you and Ivy complete each other so well, you’re like soulmates -if you believe in this sort of thing. But you’re not even willing to try going all the way even once with her.”

“Jenks, it’s not that simple. We could lose everything if we do it and it turns out I’m not...” I choked. Couldn’t say the “G” word yet.

“And that’s why Ivy’s an idiot. She wants you to jump into her bed without giving you a chance to dip your toe first. She’s treating you like just another one night stand, even though she hates it.” He shot me a pointed look. “Well, at least she’s got the excuse that it’s all she really knows. You don’t want to try at all, and she wants you to pick the whole package right now.” He smiled and shrugged. “Go slow. I swear, it’s like neither of you has ever heard of dating. Maybe spend a few nights together, without sex, see if you’re not just irrationally afraid of her morning head.”

Against all odds, that made me snort. Ivy was really that scary in the morning. Jenks looked happy to have made me smile, but he quickly sobered up.

“Rache, I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’re already losing everything you built with her, just slowly. If you won’t even give her a chance to get what she needs from you, then you can’t blame her if one day she just leaves.”

“Oh, how nice. Now it’s emotional blackmail. Sleep with her, offer her my blood, or she leaves, uh? Well I can’t live like that, Mr I-Know-What-you-Feel-Better-Than-You-Do!” I spat bitterly. He was dead wrong there, though. Ivy wouldn’t accept what I gave her unless I truly wanted her to have it. To even suggest we be like that would anger her.

“It’s not blackmail, Rache, it’s cause and effect. It hurts her to stay with you, but it gives her something, too. So far, whatever that is outweighs the pain, but someday, it might not be enough anymore. Don’t get me wrong, Ivy’ll fight tooth and nail to stay with you, and you know it, but she can’t always think of you first.”

I hung my head, ashamed that I kept lashing out at him, especially when he had nothing but noble intentions, but dammit, I was too tired for soul searching tonight.

“I’m afraid Jenks.” I finally admitted. “I don’t want to lose her, but I don’t know how to keep her and keep on living.”

“They don’t have to be mutually exclusive. I know you’re afraid you might not like being intimate with her, but did you ever stop to think that you might? How happy you could be with Ivy?”

“Maybe.” I answered softly, then shook my head. “It doesn’t change anything, Jenks. I won’t sleep with her, and I won’t share blood. I can’t. I’ve got too much to lose.”

“Still afraid that you might end up bound to her?  I can help with that.” He rose and darted to me. “You have my most solemn vow, Rachel, that if Ivy ever binds you, I’ll kill her. Twice, and thoroughly.” I was shocked, by the violence of his words, yes, but mostly by the calm in his voice.

“How can you even say that?!” I uttered, outraged. “She’s your friend, too!”

“Simple.” He said matter-of-factly, as if discussing the weather and not murder.  “If she ever betrays you like that, it will mean I misjudged her and that she is no friend of mine, or yours for that matter. I wouldn’t shed a tear on her grave, and neither should you. But you know deep down that Ivy isn’t like that.”

I understood what he meant; trust and loyalty were the most important values to a pixy, and betrayal the deadliest offence of all. No wonder he’d been upset when he learned I wouldn’t share blood with Ivy; in a way, I didn’t trust her with this.

“Will you try again?” He asked simply. “I know you guys can do this. You love each other enough, even if it scares you.”

“When did you get so supportive?” I snarled bitingly. “Last I checked, you were pretty opposed to us finding a blood balance.”

“Last I checked, Rache, Ivy wasn’t ready. Tinks’ little red shoe, you have a nice selective memory, don’t ya, witch? I told you finding a blood balance would be hard, but that ultimately, it would be the only way you two would stay together and not kill each other, remember?”

I remembered. And knowing he had my back, like always, made me feel a lot more confident, although I also felt a little ashamed. We were talking about my best friend’s lives and ending them both here. I shouldn’t be feeling more secure, but there it was. Go figure...

“Will you?”

“Jenks...” I sighed, distressed by the hopeful look on his face. “I’ll talk to her about it when she gets back, okay? And we won’t sleep together, period.”

“Not right away, anyway. Could you just consider giving her a chance? She not trying to make either of you miserable, you know. She’s trying hard to be happy, and I’m pretty sure she’ll do her damn best to make you happy, too.”

“Jenks...”

“Okay, okay, I get it, you’re tired. ‘Night, Rache.”

“’Night.” I vaguely muttered as he flung himself to the window, only to pop back in half a second later.

“Oh, and Rache? Ivy’s the only one who gets to call me “bug”, got it?”

He was out of sight in a heartbeat, leaving me alone in the kitchen. I silently padded out into the hallway, leaving behind a room that stank of burned magic and came to a halt before my own room and Ivy’s. Remembering that she had asked me to bring her a change of clothes, I took the last steps separating me from her door and entered.

Ivy’s room was just about the furthest thing you could get from a vampire’s den. Soft tones of pastel, pale, solid wood furniture, thick curtains, neatly ordered... it was a true reflection into the depths of it’s owner’s soul. It was her sanctum, and I couldn’t help but feel I was trespassing, even though I was here doing her a favour. As far as I knew, she never brought any of her multiple partners here, save for Skimmer, the only one besides myself, and maybe Rynn and David, that she had any true feelings for. Only the bed looked like it might belong to a vampire with Ivy’s appetites, a broad king size covered in luscious dark silk and satin.

But my favourite part of her room was definitely her “shrine”, a portion of her wall covered in countless pictures relating happier times of her life. At the foot of the wall, she had placed a small table holding a few items probably worth more to her than the contents of her bank account; a picture of her and Kisten at fourteen, rosy cheeked and wearing skiing gear, the urns that held our late lover’s ashes, another picture, this one of me and Jenks, with the Mackinaw bridge in the background, and finally, her sword, carefully resting on its stand. She used to hide the damn thing under her bed, since it had been a “gift” from Piscary, a weapon she could use as she served as his enforcer. She had long hated the blade, but that changed when Jenks made it her solstice gift.

Under his careful guidance, he and his sons had made the weapon into a beautiful work of art. The once-plain grip now had pixy-fine patterns woven into it, and the cross guard had been sculpted into a masterpiece of intertwining gold and silver. The old sheath was engraved with a complex design and polished to a glossy shine, and the blade itself was now covered in a layer of the finest pixy steel, causing it to have an iridescent sheen.

According to Jenks, it was now a traditional “father’s sword”, the symbol of a pixy clan. It was forged by the founder and stayed with the clan as long as it existed, wielded only in times of great perils. It was never to spill blood, unless it was too protect. In a way, he had made a statement by giving Ivy this sword, that she was no longer that woman who accomplished God knows how many awful deeds for her master, but a protector willing to give her life for those she loved, just like a pixy father should. I think that was the only reason she didn’t throw it out when she received it.  Well, that and having it evaluated and figuring out that it was now worth about as much as the church and all the grounds we occupied; pixy art that size isn’t exactly found in troves.  What with her aversion to violence, despite her obvious, out of this world skill in inflicting it, she wasn’t exactly bursting with joy when I handed it to her on Jenks’ behalf, but now she treasured it.

Me, Jenks and Ivy... yes, we were family. I may not agree with everything Jenks had said, but this much was true. I wanted to keep them with me, I wanted Ivy to bite me, and I knew she would probably agree to the threat of death to get a chance to do it again. I had a lifeline now, an ugly one, but maybe Ivy and I could make it work that way, as the somewhat dysfunctional, loving family we were.

Maybe all I needed was an excuse to try again... or maybe Jenks had been right all along and I wanted all she offered and denied it.

Without thinking about it, I slumped onto Ivy’s bed. The soft coverlet let out a cloud of her scent, both comforting and painful at once. It smelled so good in here, and I breathed in the vampire incense. Long ago, I had a flash of me and Ivy sharing this room, of us together, but actually sitting on her bed didn’t trigger anything. I was almost disappointed...

Why couldn’t I get a simple answer? Something like burning letters spelling “straight”, “gay” or “bi” on my forehead, or anything else so perfectly obvious even I couldn’t screw it up?

My eyes felt so heavy, and I was so tired... before I knew it, my head was resting atop her pillow, the clean scent of her citrus shampoo mixing wonderfully with the scent of vampire.

Just resting for a moment, nothing more, I thought as I finally lost the struggle to keep my eyes open, the scents wrapped around me lulling me into dark, velveteen slumber.

I had been asleep for a paltry few minutes when the ringing of the phone jarred me awake. I scrambled up, making a mental note to wash Ivy’s sheets, lest she discovered I had fallen asleep on her bed, and left Ivy’s incense-filled room behind in a rush, and caught the phone on the third ring.

“Vampiric Charms runner service, this is Rachel speaking.” I said in the most professional tone I could manage under the circumstances.

“Would you call me a chauvinist white knight wannabe again if I told you I’ve been worried?” A sardonic male voice spoke from the other end of the line, making me smile.

“Hi, Marshall.”