Dead Witch Walking

Nick.'

Keasley cleared his throat and took his hand. 'Nice to meet you,' he said, his words at odds with the disapproving look on his old face. 'Rachel wants me to look at your forehead.'

'I'm fine. It quit bleeding in the shower.'

'Really.' The old man's eyes narrowed. 'Rachel's wrist won't quit.'

Nick's face went slack. His gaze darted to me. His mouth opened, then shut. I glared at him. Damn it all to hell. He knew exactly what that meant. 'It—um…' he whispered.

'What?' Ivy prompted. Jenks landed on her shoulder, and she brushed him off.

Nick ran a hand over his chin and said nothing. Nick and I were going to talk… We were going to talk real soon. Keasley aggressively shoved his paper bag into Nick's chest. 'Hold this while I get Rachel's bath started. I want to make sure her core temp is where it should be.'

Nick meekly backed up. Ivy looked suspiciously between the three of us. 'A bath,' I said brightly, not wanting her to know anything was wrong. She'd probably kill Nick if she knew what had happened. 'That sounds great.' I pushed my blanket and coat off of me and swung my feet to the floor. The room darkened and I felt my face go cold.

'Slow up,' Keasley said as he put a dark hand on my shoulder. 'Wait until it's ready.'

I took a deep breath, refusing to put my head between my knees. It was so undignified.

Nick looked sick as he stood in the corner. 'Uh,' he stammered. 'You might have to wait for that bath. I think I used all the hot water.'

'Good,' I breathed, 'that's what I told you to do.' But inside I was withering.

Keasley harrumphed. 'That's what the pans of water are for.'

Ivy scowled. 'Why didn't you say so,' she grumbled as she walked out. 'I'll do it.'

'Mind that her bath isn't too hot,' Keasley called after her.

'I know how to treat severe blood loss,' she yelled belligerently.

'That you probably do, missy.' Straightening, he backed a startled Nick into the wall. 'You tell Ms. Morgan what she can expect concerning her wrist,' he said, taking his bag back.

Nick nodded once, looking surprised by the short, innocuous-seeming witch.

'Rache,' Jenks said, buzzing close. 'What's going on with your wrist?'

'Nothing.'

'What's going on with your wrist, Hot Stuff?'

'Nothing!' I waved him away, almost panting from the effort.

'Jenks?' Ivy called loudly over the distant sound of water flowing. 'Get me that black bag on my dresser, will you? I want to put it in Rachel's bath.'

'The one that stinks like vervain?' he called, rising up to hover before me.

'You've been in my stuff!' she accused, and Jenks grinned sheepishly. 'And hurry up about it,' she added. 'The sooner Rachel is in the tub, the sooner we can get out of here. As long as she's all right, we need to see about finishing her run.'

The recollection of Trent's shipment came flooding back. I looked at the clock and sighed. There was still time to get to the FIB and nail him. But I was not going to be taking part in it in any way, shape, or form.

Swell.

Twenty-eight

Bubbles, I thought, ought to be marketed as a medicinal inducement for well-being. I sighed, scooting myself up before my neck could slip under the water. Dulled by amulets and warm water, my bruises had retreated to a background throb. Even my wrist, propped high and dry on the side of the tub, felt reasonable. Faintly through the walls, I could hear Nick talking to his mother on the phone, telling her that work had gotten really hectic the last three months and that he was sorry he hadn't called. Otherwise, the church was quiet. Jenks and Ivy were gone. 'Out doing my job,' I whispered, my complacent mood going sour.

'What's that, Ms. Rachel?' Matalina piped up. The small pixy woman was perched on a towel rack, looking like an angel in her flowing white silk dress as she embroidered dogwood blossoms on an exquisite shawl for her eldest daughter. She had been with me since I got in the tub, making sure I didn't pass out and drown.

'Nothing.' I laboriously lifted my bruised arm and drew a mound of bubbles closer. The water was going cold and my stomach was rumbling. Ivy's bathroom looked eerily like my mother's, with tiny soaps in the shape of shells, and lacy curtains over the stained-glass window. A vase of violets rested on the back of the commode, and I was surprised a vamp cared about such things. The tub was black, contrasting nicely with the pastel walls and rosebud wallpaper.

Matalina set her stitching aside and flitted down to hover over black porcelain. 'Should your amulets get wet like that?'

I glanced at the pain charms draped around my neck, thinking I looked like a drunken prostitute at Mardi Gras. 'It's okay,' I breathed. 'Soapy water won't dissolution them like saltwater does.'

'Ms. Tamwood wouldn't tell me what she put in your bath,' Matalina said primly. 'There might be salt in it.'

Ivy hadn't told me, either, and to tell the truth, I didn't want to know. 'No salt. I asked.'

With a small harrumph, Matalina landed on my big toe, poking above the water. Her wings blurred to nothing, and a clear spot formed as the bubbles melted. Gathering her skirts, she cautiously bent to dip a hand, to bring a drop up to her nose. Tiny ripples spread out from her touch on the water.

'Vervain,' she said in her high voice. 'My Jenks was right, there. Bloodroot. Goldenseal.' Her eyes met mine. 'That's used to cover up something potent. What is she trying to hide?'

I looked at the ceiling. If it took away the pain, I really didn't care.

There was a creak of floorboards in the hall, and I froze. 'Nick?' I called, looking at my towel just out of reach. 'I'm still in the tub. Don't come in!'

He scuffed to a halt, the thin veneered wood between us. 'Uh, hi, Rachel. I was just, uh, checking on you.' There was a hesitation. 'I—um—need to talk to you.'

My stomach clenched, and my attention fell upon my wrist. It was still bleeding through a wad of gauze an inch thick. The rivulet of blood on the black porcelain looked like a welt. Maybe that's why Ivy had a black tub. Blood didn't show up as well on black as it did on white.

'Rachel?' he called into the quiet.

'I'm okay,' I said loudly, my voice echoing off the pink walls. 'Give me a minute to get out of the tub, all right? I want to talk to you, too—little wizard.'

I said the last snidely, and I heard his feet shift. 'I'm not a wizard,' he said faintly. He hesitated. 'Are you hungry? Can I make you something to eat?' He sounded guilty.

'Yeah. Thanks,' I replied, wishing he would get away from the door. I was ravenous. My appetite probably had everything to do with that cakelike cookie Ivy made me eat before she left. It was as appetizing as a rice pancake, and only after I had choked it down did Ivy bother to tell me it would increase my metabolism, especially my blood production. I could still taste it on the back of my throat. Sort of a mix between almonds, bananas, and shoe leather.

Nick scuffed away, and I stretched with my foot for the tap to warm the water. The water heater was probably hot by now.

'Don't warm it, dear,' Matalina warned. 'Ivy said to get out once it went cold.'

A wave of irritation swept me. I knew what Ivy had said. But I refrained from comment.

I slowly sat up and moved to sit on the edge of the tub. The room seemed to darken around the edges, and I abruptly wrapped a fluffy pink towel around myself in case I passed out. When the room stopped going gray, I pulled the plug on the tub and carefully stood. It drained noisily, and I wiped the mist from the mirror, leaning against the sink to look at myself.

A sigh shifted my shoulders. Matalina came to rest on my shoulder, watching me with sad eyes. I looked as if