In the Leyline of Fire (Epilogue) - 2 of 3

[watch_yer_back]

Continued...

“Did you get ice cream?”

Jenks flitted from my shoulder to peek at the canvas bag I was carrying, because my conscientious girlfriend always frowned when I came from the grocery with plastic bags.

He snickered. “Ivy’s favorite flavor huh? Nice attempt at a bribe.”

“It’s not a bribe,” I denied even as I felt my cheeks burn. “We agreed I’d lay low for awhile. I haven’t taken any jobs, I ate the cookie she baked this morning, I didn’t even join her on this top secret stakeout of hers. Doing the groceries doesn’t count.”

“Feeling restless already?” He asked it in a light, teasing tone, but there was an undercurrent of concern too. Jenks knew how quickly I got cabin fever.

“No,” I replied, and meant it. Maybe normally I would be, but Ivy and I had agreed on two weeks before she announced her decision, and I was all too conscious that we were halfway there. Time flies, especially when we have mornings like the one today…

“Earth to Rachel? Hello?” Jenks snickered as I nearly stumbled. “Oh you’ve really got it real bad. Who would’ve thought that you’d turn out to be such a whipped wi-” Suddenly he stopped.

“Jenks?” I went on alert as he flew to hover in front of me. His entire stance screamed tension.

“What is it?” I asked warily, as my free hand inched towards the splat gun tucked into the back of my jeans.

“We may have a problem,” the pixy pronounced as he stared straight ahead. “A big problem.”

I followed the direction of his gaze, and broke into a relieved smile. “What’re you talking about? It’s Erica! Hey there!” I waved to get the attention of Ivy’s irrepressible, cute goth of a sister, who was leaning against a car parked in front of the church.

‘Cute?’ some internal voice in the back of my head squealed. Well, look at her. Erica was some six inches shorter than Ivy and a lot louder, but just like her sister there was an air about that was sleek and subtly predatory, not to mention that same startling touch of Asian in all that nearly Nordic paleness. Even the quiet way she stands there waiting, that’s so Ivy -

My eyes nearly popped out of my skull as the rest of me caught up with my current stream of thought. Oh no. Oh crap. I’m noticing girls now?! What is Ivy doing to me?  I was gay for Ivy, no doubts there, and no problem. But whether I was now bi like Ivy, or if Ivy was simply the exception to my hetero rule of thumb - those things I had yet to touch on. Either way, starting the whole noticing thing with Ivy’s sister was so not gonna happen!

Stomping the notion firmly out of existence, I made to move forward, only to be halted in mid-step by Jenks’ hissed, “Yeah, Erica! And since when does Ivy’s little sister drive a big, shiny, expensive car? Tink’s lazy bloomers, where’d I put my phone?!”

I froze. He was right. Erica liked sporty two-seaters and SUVs, not elegant, full-sized automobiles like the one parked at my sidewalk. It was by no means as ostentatious as Rynn’s limo, and not a single back-up bodyguard was in sight, but I’d bet a dozen sleepy potions that there was a driver somewhere.

There was no doubt that whoever owned it was wealthy and, judging by the heavily tinted windows, either prized anonymity to an extreme degree or had good reason to hide from the sun. The way it was sitting a little heavily on the ground had me guessing that it was one of those models that came with what manufacturers liked to euphemistically call “ballistic protection.”

Erica spotted me just as I was thinking of backtracking and finding another way to the church. The young vamp straightened, waved hesitantly, and began to walk towards me. Even from this distance I could make out the uncharacteristically serious expression on her face.  At this moment and under this lighting, she looked so much like Ivy, no wonder the rest of me had noticed.

Crap on toast. It was Jenks’ expression, but somehow I doubted that he’d mind me borrowing it this once.  My heart started a staccato drumbeat, and I didn’t need anyone to tell me that I’d gone pale. Fuck. My. Life. Give me banshees any day.

“Jenks,” I barely kept the tremor from my voice, “fly ahead and call Ivy now.”

“The hell I am! I’m not leaving you,” he replied belligerently.

“If this is who we think it is,” and I was really praying it wasn’t, “I don’t think she’ll do anything in front of Erica.” I tried to sound confident, but at this point it was more like wishful thinking. I hoped that it was Ivy’s dad in there. Randal didn’t much care for me, but at least he was alive. He might have some scruples about killing his daughter’s girlfriend.

Ivy’s undead mom though, who wanted her to have children and continue her living line, she’d surely be ticked off by recent developments.

Erica paused a couple of feet away, and dashed my feeble hopes with her first words. “I’m really sorry, Rachel, but she just wouldn’t let it go. She said she wanted to talk to you, and that she was going to do it whether I went with her or not. She promised not to do anything…” The way she trailed off was not reassuring. “I tried to call V but she’s not picking up. I left her voice mail and lots of text, but there’s no answer.”

“She’s on a run,” I found myself explaining in shaky tones. Calm down. Fear is not a good thing to wave at a vampire who already wants you for breakfast. Even Erica’s pupils were beginning to dilate at the way my pulse was shooting up. “Is your dad here too?”

Erica looked even more miserable as she replied, “No, he had a meeting.” Unsaid between us was the fact that this wouldn’t be happening otherwise.

I stared at the imposing vehicle parked at my sidewalk. No way was I getting into a car with an undead vamp, particularly one who might be pissed off at me. If I was going to deal with this, I wanted all the cards I could possibly have on my side of the table.

“It’s okay, Erica,” I said as evenly as I could. “Look, I need to put these away.” I indicated the shopping bag. “Can we do this inside?” Yeah that’s better. Pretend this is just another client on your doorstep. Although considering that the last “client” had almost drained my aura dry, that didn’t help much.

I tried to seem reassuring as the girl glanced doubtfully at the church. “There’s a place at the back, remember? It’s safe, even Cormel’s been there.”  And Al, and a whole slew of other creatures who couldn’t go anywhere even remotely sanctified, but there was no need to get into that. “Give me a few minutes to make things presentable, okay?”

She nodded. We walked back together part of the way, with me veering off to enter the church. I studiously kept my back turned as Erica leaned towards the car’s now-lowered window. She spoke softly to whoever was inside.

“Any luck?” I asked Jenks as I shut the door behind me and went down the hallway.

He shook his head. “Ivy probably muted her cell. You know how she is on a stakeout.” He followed as I entered the kitchen. “Now what?”

“Five, ten minutes at the most.” I didn’t need to explain more than that.

“I don’t suppose we could just not let them in?” he muttered.

I honestly wished that was possible. I started putting the groceries away, my mind in a whirl. Normally I’d take the splat gun out, and pointedly display it and a couple of stakes in plain sight, but considering that I was about to face an undead vampire, that wouldn’t be anything more than a show of bravado. If it came to that, the ley line running through the church would be more useful.

I glanced longingly at Ivy’s corner, where her gleaming computer stood. I was mainly wishing she was here, when it hit me. I wasn’t edgy just because a powerful undead who might have a grudge against me was approaching. As scary as that was, I’d sort of been there, done that.

I was freaking out because in addition to all of that, this was the mother of the woman I planned to spend the next century with. And for all the ambiguous disconnect between Ivy and her mom, I didn’t doubt that Ivy still cared a great deal for her mother. Which meant that this could not come down to blood and guts.

“Jenks, I need a favor,” I said, as a glance at the clock confirmed that we were nearly out of time.

“What?” he asked testily. The sword strapped to his side glinted as he moved.

I remembered how Ivy had knocked him out before we talked to DeLavine. In some ways, Jenks took offense at things more quickly than I did. It was great that he was protective, but I needed this to not go bad. I told him that.

He looked affronted at first, but when I ended with a sincere, “I’m glad you’re here,” he realized how nervous I was and relented.

Then time was up, and there was a knock on the door. I nodded at Erica as she entered first, then focused on the woman who swept in behind her. The woman who’d gotten Jenks to strap on a sword and me checking for the nearest ley line was petite, no more than an inch or three over five feet. She was poised and nearly regal in bearing, the undoubted source of her daughters’ striking almond-shaped eyes, and raven-black hair.

“Mrs. Tamwood.” I was going to try to be polite if it killed me. Well okay, not that far but I’d exert some effort.

“Ms. Morgan.” One elegantly thin brow drew up, and suddenly I realized where Ivy had gotten that particular expression. “I’m sorry, have we met?” Her voice was pleasant and cultured, as was the way she was dressed. Not for her Erica’s flamboyant gothic black or Ivy’s dark hues, leggings, jeans or leather. Judging by her exquisitely tailored cream and ivory blouse and slacks, Mrs. Tamwood preferred rich, light colors that set off her Asian coloring. She looked every inch the respectable lady, one who wouldn’t dream of picking up the wrong fork, much less slit someone’s throat.

Maybe I would’ve been taken in by it if I hadn’t once seen her at Trent Kalamack’s almost-wedding, looking every inch like an icy queen of death. Or if I hadn’t once watched Ivy spin around in a lovely yellow sundress, only to realize that they were hunting clothes.

My eyes widened. Her mom’s sundress, which Ivy had gotten when she’d died. “And if she ever shows up on our doorstep, don’t let on I have it.” I could almost hear Ivy going on about how her mom would try to take it back and how tacky it was to wear a sundress after dark.

God, how young were we back then? From the viewpoint of Ivy’s life expectancy or mine, it wasn’t all that long ago, but placed against everything that had happened since then, it felt like ages had passed. Back then, I’d been a cocky earth witch with a half-assed plan to break into a drug lord-slash-politician’s office and steal his secrets, confident that everything would work my way. I’ve changed. So has Ivy. We’re together now.

And not even Ivy’s mom is going to change that, not after all we’ve been through. With that in mind, I felt the butterflies in my stomach settle. I was going to get through this.

“We haven’t been formally introduced, but I’ve seen you at -” uh probably best not to mention Trent’s aborted wedding, and remind her of my role in it “- a couple of functions. Ivy has pictures of you, too.” Most of them old pictures from when her mother was smiling and full of life.

Mrs. Tamwood looked pleased at that. “I wondered where those had gone. We gave Ivy a camera when she was young, you know. Not like the digital ones now; it used film and was a little complicated for her age, but she loved it, took it everywhere. I do wish she was here. I don’t see her as often as I’d like.”

I bet. If Ivy were here, her mother probably wouldn’t have made it past the front door. Or the back one. “I’m sorry you missed her. What can I do for you, Mrs. Tamwood?”

She looked a little surprised at my abruptness, though not entirely displeased. Still, she’d pay back my directness with a little of her own.  “I’ve heard that you and my daughter are…together.”

“You should maybe take that up with Ivy,” I replied cautiously.

“Should I? And will you also refuse to confirm that Ivy asked you to be her scion?” she asked in a deceptively laconic tone.

My chin lifted. Now I could see where this was going. “She did, a long time ago.”

“You refused?” Her voice steeled, warning me that I was on thin ice.

“I’m not interested in being bound.” I heard Erica gasp. If it were Erica alone I might’ve told her the truth: that just a week ago I was so close to offering what Ivy had once asked, but that Ivy herself had stopped me.

The dark eyes glittered with anger. “What exactly, Ms. Morgan, do you have against the long-held traditions of my kind?”

So much for being polite. “Mrs. Tamwood,” I said slowly, “I don’t like your rules. I don’t like this vampire society of yours that allowed Piscary to torture Ivy for years. For some reason she thinks she doesn’t deserve happiness. She said she had to learn how.” I paused as her eyes flashed. I tried to control my fear, knowing that the undead vampire less than six feet away was already annoyed enough to kill. No need to encourage her.  “But I’ve loved…love,” I amended, a little weirded out that I was telling this to Ivy’s mom, of all people, “two vampires, and they’ve both saved my life.”

As they sometimes did, my eyes misted at the thought of Kisten. I blinked back the imminent tears, knowing Kisten himself would be chiding me in his best accent that this was hardly the time. I lifted my head, and met her gaze squarely. “I’m grateful, but I will never give up my will or my freedom, and you don’t know Ivy very well if you think that forcing me to do either will make her happy.”

Suddenly, the vampire was next to me, so close that the heavy, cloying scent of incense washed over me. “I suggest that you choose your next words with care,” she said in a sweet, menacing tone.

“Mom!” Erica called out in alarm, but her mother only brought up a hand to wave her off.

I froze as she eyed my neck. Fuck, I didn’t even see her move. I took a deep breath, telling my heart to slow down, but knowing that no matter what, I’d scream if this icy piece of death touched me. “I’ve been bitten…”

“Yes,” the Asian vampire confirmed with a purr. To my horror the scars on my neck throbbed.

“…but only a few of those bites have reached my soul. All of them are Ivy’s,” I proclaimed firmly, “and they were done with my full consent. I will only give myself to Ivy, Mrs. Tamwood. But to do that, I have to be able to choose.”

Suddenly Jenks was between us, his sword drawn and pointing at the vampire’s head. “Back off,” he ground out, “unless you want to spend the rest of your second life with a hole where your frontal lobe used to be.”

For a second, the vampire looked furious. Then she smiled, and if anything that was worse because it bared razor-shiny fangs at us. “Little man,” she taunted, “if my daughter can catch you, what makes you think I can’t?”

“Mom.” Erica again, only this time she moved until she was next to her mother, and her young hand was on the undead’s arm. “Please. You promised.”

For a second I thought it wouldn’t do any good. Then the vampire visibly gathered herself. “I did, didn’t I?” When she turned back to me, the wrathful monster was gone, and in its place merely an affronted woman once more. “Rachel Morgan, I won’t pretend to understand what my daughter sees in you, or why she’s allowed you to…stay this way.” Her tone made it clear that she found the arrangement distasteful. “But that’s your business. I came only because I wanted to know one thing. Do you intend to stand in her way?”

Was she talking about…?  In the end, I gave her the only answer I could. “I will always stand by Ivy.”

The expression on her face said she was far from satisfied. Still, she nodded, and excused herself and Erica as civilly as if they’d just dropped by for tea. In another minute they were gone.

“Tink’s tangled panties!” Now that the vampires were gone, Jenks let himself heave a sigh of relief. “That was close!”

I wasn’t paying attention. I was staring at the door they’d left through.

“Rachel?” he prompted. “Uhoh I know that look. What’s wrong?”

“Jenks, how did she know?” I asked slowly.

“Know what?”

“All of that. Who told her?” We exchanged looks.

“Erica?” he suggested, though his tone was doubtful.

“Possible but…I don’t think Erica would’ve told her, not about Ivy and me. She’d let Ivy handle that.” Besides, unlike her sister, Erica had never gotten that involved with the intricate workings of a camarilla.

“Then who?”

I met his eyes as my face went cold. I could only think of one vampire who might be keeping track of the camarilla and of Ivy, who knew Ivy’s mom, and wouldn’t be averse to provoking something. “Skimmer,” I said grimly.

Continued here...