my liking.
The wind bit at my exposed skin, and I glanced up at the steeple, sharp against the graying clouds. Mincing on the ice, I passed Kisten's mobile icon of masculinity and rose up the stone steps to the thick wooden double doors. There was no conventional lock, though there was an oak crossbar inside which I set every sunrise before I went to bed. Bending awkwardly, I scooped out a cup of pelletized de-icer from the open bag sitting beside the door and sprinkled it on the steps before the afternoon's snowmelt had a chance to freeze.
I pushed open the door, my hair drifting in the warm draft that billowed out. Soft jazz came with it, and I slipped inside to latch it softly behind me. I didn't particularly want to see Kisten—no matter how nice he was on the eyes—though I thought I should probably thank him for recommending me to Takata.
It was dark in the small foyer, the glow of dusk slipping in from the sanctuary beyond doing little to light it. The air smelled like coffee and growing things, sort of a mix between a plant nursery and coffeehouse. Nice. Ceri's things went atop the small antique table Ivy had swiped from her folks, and I opened up my bag, peering down to see Jenks looking up.
'Thank God,' he muttered as he slowly lifted into the air. Then he hesitated, head cocked as he listened. 'Where is everyone?'
I shrugged out of my coat and hung it up on a peg. 'Maybe Ivy yelled at your kids again and they're hiding. Are you complaining?'
He shook his head. He was right, though. It was really quiet. Too quiet. Usually there were head-splitting shrills of pixy children playing tag, an occasional crash from a hanging utensil hitting the kitchen floor, or the snarls of Ivy chasing them out of the living room. The only peace we got were the four hours they slept at noon, and four hours again after midnight.
The warmth of the church was soaking into Jenks, and already his wings were translucent and moving well. I decided to leave Ceri's things where they were until I could get them across the street to her, and after stomping the snow off my boots beside the melting puddles Kisten had left, I followed Jenks out of the dark foyer and into the quiet sanctuary.
My shoulders eased as I took in the subdued lighting coming in through the knee-to-ceiling-high stained-glass windows. Ivy's stately baby grand took up one corner in the front, dusted and cared for but played only when I was out. My plant-strewn, rolltop desk was kitty-corner to it, way up in the front on the ankle-high stage where the altar once sat. The huge image of a cross still shadowed the wall above it, soothing and protective. The pews had been removed long before I moved in, leaving an echoing wooden and glass space redolent of peace, solitude, grace, and security. I was safe here.
Jenks stiffened, sending my instincts flaming.
'Now!' shrilled a piercing voice.
Jenks shot straight up, leaving a cloud of pixy dust hanging where he had been like an octopus inking. Heart pounding, I hit the hardwood floor, rolling.
Sharp patters of impacts hit the planks beside me. Fear kept me spinning until I found a corner. Heady, the strength of the graveyard's ley line surged through me as I tapped it.
'Rachel! It's my kids!' Jenks cried as a hail of tiny snowballs struck me.
Gagging, I choked on the word to invoke my circle, yanking back the cresting power. It crashed into me, and I groaned as twofold the ley line energy suddenly took up the same space. Staggering, I fell to a knee and struggled to breathe until the excess found its way back to the line. Oh God. It felt like I was on fire. I should have just made the circle.
'What in Tink's knickers do you think you're doing!' Jenks yelled, hovering over me as I tried to focus on the floor. 'You should know better than to jump a runner like that! She's a professional! You're going to end up dead! And I'm going to let you rot where you fall. We're guests here! Get to the desk. All of you! Jax, I am really disappointed.'
I took a breath. Damn. That really hurt. Mental note: never stop a ley line spell midcast.
'Matalina!' Jenks shouted. 'Do you know what our kids are doing?'
I licked my lips. 'It's okay,' I said, looking up to find absolutely no one in the sanctuary. Even Jenks was gone. 'I love my life,' I muttered, and I worked myself carefully up from the floor in stages. The flaming tingle in my skin had subsided, and pulse hammering, I let go of the line completely, feeling the remaining energy flow out of my chi to leave me shaking.
With the sound of an angry bee, Jenks flew in from the back rooms. 'Rachel,' he said as he came to a halt before me. 'I'm sorry. They found the snow that Kist brought in on his shoes, and he told them about snowball fights when he was a kid. Oh, look. They got you all wet.'
Matalina, Jenks's wife, zipped into the sanctuary in a billow of gray and blue silk. Giving me an apologetic wince, she slipped under the crack in my rolltop desk. My head started to hurt and my eyes watered. Her scolding was so high-pitched that I couldn't hear it.
Tired, I straightened to my full height and tugged my sweater straight. Small spots of water showed where I'd been hit. If they had been fairy assassins with spells instead of pixies with snowballs, I'd be dead. My heart slowed, and I snatched up my bag from the floor. 'It's okay,' I said, embarrassed and wanting Jenks to shut up. 'No biggie. Kids will be kids.'
Jenks hovered in apparent indecision. 'Yeah, but they're my kids, and we're guests. They'll be apologizing to you, among a few other things.'
Gesturing it was okay, I stumbled down the dark hallway, following the smell of coffee. At least no one had seen me rolling on the floor evading pixy snowballs, I thought. But such commotions had become commonplace since the first hard frost and Jenks's family moved in. There was no way I could pretend I wasn't here now, though. Besides, they had probably smelled the flush of fresh air when I opened the door.
I passed the opposing his-and-her bathrooms that had been converted into a conventional bathroom and a combination bathroom/laundry room. The latter was mine. My room was on the right side of the hallway, Ivy's was directly across from it. The kitchen was next, and I made a left turn into it, hoping to grab some coffee and go hide in my room to avoid Kisten entirely.
I had made the mistake of kissing him in an elevator, and he never missed an opportunity to remind me of it. Thinking at the time I wouldn't live to see the sunrise, I had let my guard down and enjoyed myself, all but giving in to the lure of vampiric passion. Even worse? Kisten knew he had tipped me over the edge and that I had been a breath away from saying yes.
Exhausted, I elbowed the light switch and dropped my shoulder bag on the counter. Fluorescent lights flickered on, sending Mr. Fish into a frenzy of motion. Soft jazz and the rise and fall of conversation filtered in from the unseen living room. Kisten's leather coat was draped over Ivy's chair before her computer. There was a half-full pot of coffee, and after a moment's thought, I poured it into my gigantic mug. Trying to be quiet, I started a new batch. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but Kisten's voice was as smooth and warm as a bubble bath.
'Ivy, love,' he pleaded as I got the grounds out of the fridge. 'It's only one night. An hour, maybe. In and out.'
'No.'
Ivy's voice was cold, the warning obvious. Kisten was pushing her past where I would, but they'd grown up together, the children of wealthy parents who expected them to join their families and have little vamp brats to continue Piscary's living-vampire line before they died and became true undead. It wouldn't happen—the marriage, not the dead part. They had already tried the cohabitation route, and while neither would say what happened, their relationship had cooled until all that was left was more of a warped sibling fondness.
'You don't have to do anything,' Kisten persuaded, laying his fake British accent on heavy. 'Just be there. I'll say everything.'
'No.'
Someone snapped off the music, and I silently pulled the silverware drawer open for the coffee scoop. Three pixy girls darted out, shrieking. I bit back my yelp, heart pounding as they vanished down the dark hallway. Motions quick from adrenaline, I poked around to find the scoop missing. I finally spotted it in the sink. Kisten must have made the coffee. If it had been Ivy, her asinine need for order would have had it washed, dried, and put away.
'Why not?' Kisten's voice had taken a petulant tone. 'He's not asking for much.'
Tight and controlled, Ivy's voice was seething. 'I don't want that bastard in my head at all. Why would I let him see through my eyes? Feel my thoughts?'
