were going to do about this. Piscary couldn't get out of prison; I'd never sleep again. My arms went about her in a loose generic hug, and I froze when the woman put her lips under my ear and breathed, 'Pleasure to meet you.'
Adrenaline jolted through me as my demon scar flashed into waves of heat. Shocked, I shoved her away, collapsing to a defensive posture. The living vampire fell back, surprise making her long lashes and blue eyes look enormous. She caught her balance a good five feet away. Erica gasped, and Ivy was a black blur coming between us.
'Skimmer!' Ivy shouted, her voice almost panicked as she stood with her back to me.
My heart pounded and sweat broke out. The flaming promise on my neck hurt, it was so strong, and I put a hand to it, feeling betrayed and shocked.
'She's my business partner!' Ivy exclaimed. 'Not my blood partner!'
The slim woman stared at us, flashing into a red-faced embarrassment. 'Oh God,' she stammered, hunching into a slightly submissive posture. 'I'm sorry.' She put a hand to her mouth. 'I am really, really sorry.' She looked at Ivy, who was slowly relaxing. 'Ivy, I thought you'd taken a shadow. She smells like you. I was just being polite.' Skimmer's gaze darted to me as I tried to slow my heartbeat. 'You asked me to stay with you. I thought—God, I'm sorry. I thought she was your shadow. I didn't know she was your…friend.'
'It's all right,' I lied, forcing myself upright. I didn't like the way she had said 'friend.' It implied more than what we were. But I currently wasn't up to trying to explain to Ivy's old roommate that we weren't sharing blood or a bed. Ivy wasn't much help, standing with a deer-in-the-headlights look. And I had this weird feeling I was still missing something. God, how did I get to this place?
Erica was standing by the foot of the stairs, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Skimmer looked distressed as she tried to cover her error, smoothing her hands on her pants and touching her hair. She took a deep breath. Still flushed, she stiffly extended her hand in an obvious show of intent and stepped forward. 'I'm sorry,' she said as she halted before me. 'My name is Dorothy Claymor. You can call me that if you want to. I probably deserve it.'
I managed to dredge up a stilted smile. 'Rachel Morgan,' I said, shaking her hand.
The woman froze, and I pulled away. She looked at Ivy, the pieces falling into place.
'The one who put Piscary in prison,' I added, just to be sure she knew where I stood.
A sick smile came over Ivy. Dropping back a step, Skimmer's gaze went between us. Confusion made her cheeks bright red. This was a mess. This was a sticky, stinking mess of crap, and the levels were steadily rising.
Skimmer swallowed hard. 'It's a pleasure to meet you.' Hesitating, she added, 'Boy, this is awkward.'
I felt my shoulders ease at her admission. She was going to do what she had to do, and I was going to do what I had to do. And Ivy? Ivy was going to go insane.
Erica moved forward, the jingling of her jewelry sounding loud. 'Hey, ah, does anyone want a cookie or something?'
Oh yeah. A cookie. That would make everything better. Dunked in a shot of tequila, maybe? Or better yet, just the bottle? Yeah, that ought to do it.
Skimmer forced a smile. Her crisp mien was wearing thin, but she was holding up well considering she had left her home and master to rekindle a relationship with her high school girlfriend who was rooming with the woman who had put her new boss behind bars. Join us next time for Days of the Undead when Rachel learns her long lost brother is really a crown prince from outer space. My life was so screwed up.
Skimmer glanced at her watch—I couldn't help but notice it had diamonds on it in place of numbers. 'I've got to go. I'm meeting with—someone in about an hour.'
She was going to meet someone in about an hour. Just after the sun went down. Why didn't she just say Piscary?
'You need a ride?' Ivy said, sounding almost wistful, if she would ever let that particular emotion come from her.
Skimmer looked from Ivy to me and back to Ivy, hurt and disappointment flickering in the back of her eyes. 'No,' she said softly. 'I've got a cab coming.' She swallowed, trying to scrape herself back together. 'Actually, I think that's it now.'
I didn't hear anything, but I didn't have a living vampire's hearing.
Skimmer shifted awkwardly forward. 'It was nice meeting you,' she said to me, then turned to Ivy. 'I'll talk to you later, sweets,' she said, eyes closed as she gave her a long hug.
Ivy was still in a shocked quandary, and she returned it looking numb.
'Skimmer,' I said as they broke apart and the shaken, subdued woman took a thin jacket from the hall closet and put it on. 'This isn't what you think.'
She stopped with her hand on the doorknob, looking at Ivy for a long moment with deep regret. 'It's not what I think that matters,' she said as she opened the door. 'It's what Ivy wants.'
I opened my mouth to protest, but she left, latching the door softly behind her.
Seventeen
Skimmer's departure left an awkward silence. As the cab accelerated down the drive, I looked at Ivy standing in the sterile white entryway with its elegant decorations that utterly lacked any warmth. Guilt was thick on her. I knew it was from the reminder that she still harbored the belief that someday I'd be her scion—apparently with a little extra something on the side. It was a position that I think Skimmer had moved out here hopefully to fill.
Not sure what I was feeling, I faced her. 'Why did you let her think we were lovers?' I said, shaking inside. 'God, Ivy. We aren't even sharing blood, and she thinks we're lovers.'
Ivy's face closed, the barest tightening of her jaw giving away her emotion. 'She doesn't think that at all.' She strode out of the room. 'Do you want some juice?' she called back.
'No,' I said softly as I followed her deeper into the house. I knew if I pressed the issue right now, she would likely become more closed. This conversation wasn't over, but having it in front of Erica wasn't a good idea. My head hurt. Maybe I could get her to talk about it over coffee and cheesecake while we were shopping. Maybe I should move to Timbuktu, or the Tennessee mountains, or somewhere else where there weren't any vampires. (Don't ask. It's weird, even for Inderlanders—which is saying a lot.)
Erica was tight on my heels, her mindless chatter an obvious attempt to cover up the issues that Skimmer had raised. Her bright voice filled the sterile house with life as she trailed after us through large dim rooms full of hardwood furniture and cold drafts. I made a mental note to never get Erica and Jenks in the same room. No wonder Ivy didn't have a problem with Jenks. Her sister was cut from the same cloth.
Ivy's boots were slow on the polished floor when we left a dark blue formal dining room and entered a brightly lit, spacious kitchen. I blinked. Ivy met my startled gaze and shrugged. I knew that Ivy had remodeled the church's kitchen before I had moved in, and as I looked around, I realized she had patterned it after the one she grew up with.
The room was nearly as spacious, that same center island counter taking up the middle. Cast-iron pots and metal utensils hung over it instead of my ceramic spoons and copper spell vats, but it made the same comfortable spot to lean against. There was a heavy antique table—twin to ours—against the near wall, right where I'd expect it. Even the cupboards were the same style, and the counters had an identical color. The floor, though, was tile instead of linoleum.
Past the sink where I had a single window overlooking the graveyard, there was a bank of windows that showed a long snowfield running down to the gray ribbon of the Ohio River. Ivy's parents owned a lot of property. You could graze cattle down there.
A kettle steamed on the stove, and as Ivy moved it off the burner, I dropped my bag on the table where my chair would be if I was home. 'This is nice,' I said wryly.
Ivy gave me a cautious look, clearly glad I had shelved the pending discussion about Skimmer. 'It was cheaper to do both kitchens at once,' she said, and I nodded. It was warm, and I took my coat off, draping it on the back of the chair.
