Chapter Twelve

"Get out, Jenks!" I shrieked, scrambling up.

Minias swooped into Ivy's bathroom, his smooth face creased in irritation. Panicking, I pressed into a fluffy black towel hanging between the commode and the tub. "Don't touch me!" I shouted, then flung the contents of Ivy's pill vial at him.

With a twang, I felt him set a circle. Jenks was at the ceiling shouting something, and the little white pills bounced harmlessly against Minias's black sheet of ever-after.

I had to get out! There were too many pipes and wires in here to set a demonproof circle.

"What the hell?" Minias said, his goat-slitted eyes confused as he picked up a pill and looked at it. He had broken his circle to do it, and, scrambling, I grabbed Ivy's hairspray.

"Get out of my church!" I shouted, spraying him.

Orange-scented detangler hit Minias square in the eyes. Yelping, he stumbled backward into the hall to hit the dark walls. Arms and legs askew, he slipped to the floor. I didn't wait to see if he was down. I'd seen enough movies to know better.

Pulse hammering, I lurched out over him. He grunted as my foot hit something, and I gasped when he went misty and my foot slipped through him and found the floor.

My hands touched the walls to pull me forward, and I ran for the kitchen. I had a circle there, still set with salt. Jenks was a blur of gold dust ahead of me.

"Look out!" he shouted, and I went down, my feet pulled from under me.

Memories of Al poured through me. I couldn't go back there. I couldn't be someone's plaything. I silently fought, kicking at anything, my years of martial arts forgotten.

"What is wrong with you!" Minias said, then grunted when my sandal hit something tender. He went misty, his grip falling away.

I pulled myself forward, almost crawling across the kitchen until the expanse of my circle was between us. Minias was close behind. "Rhombus!" I shouted, tapping the line and slapping my hand on the line etched in the linoleum.

Ever-after coursed in. Fear caused my control to slip, and more power than I liked raced through me, hurting. The circle went up, and Minias ran smack into the interior wall of it.

"Ow!" the demon exclaimed, purple robes furling as he fell back against the island counter. Hand over his nose, he looked at the smut crawling over my bubble. His hat had fallen off, and he glared at me from under his curls, turning almost choleric when he realized that his nose was bleeding. "You broke my nose!" he exclaimed, bright red demon blood pouring forth.

"So fix it," I said, shaking. He was in a circle. He was in my circle. I took a breath, then another. Slowly I pulled my legs under me and stood, cold despite the warmth of the night.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked again, clearly furious as a sheet of ever-after slithered over him. He took his hand from his nose to show that the blood was gone.

"Me?" I said, burning off some angst. "You said you'd call first, not just barge in!"

"I did call!" Minias roughly adjusted his robes. "You never answered, and then," he shouted, flicking a finger under my expensive chalkboard to make it hit the floor, "instead of a simple 'I'm busy could you call back again later,' you slam the door in my face! I want this mark between us settled. You are rude, ill-mannered, and as ignorant as a toad!"

"Hey!" Face warming, I leaned to look around the counter to find that my board had cracked. "You broke my chalkboard!" Then I hesitated, drawing back with my arms over my chest. "You were the one making me sneeze?" I said, and he nodded. "I'm not allergic to cats?" I looked at Jenks, elated. "Jenks! I'm not allergic to cats!"

Minias crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "Ignorant as a toad. Rude as an unwanted guest. Al is a saint for putting up with you, the novelty of your blood aside."

Jenks was shooing his kids from the window, assuring them we were all right and to not tell their mother. "Me... rude?" I stammered, tugging my shirt back down where it belonged when Minias's gaze slid to my midriff. "I'm not the one just showing up!"

"I said I would call first." His demon eyes narrowed. "I didn't promise it. And I'm not the one flinging pills and mace," he added, scooping up his hat and jamming it on his head. His curls were sticking out all over, and damn me to hell if he didn't look good like that. Immediately I sobered. No, no, Rachel. Bad girl. And remembering what Ivy had told me this spring about my needing the threat of death to prove to myself that I was alive, I quickly shoved aside any idea that Minias was attractive. But he was.

Minias saw my anger fizzle, and, clearly used to dealing with volatile females, he dropped his gaze. When it returned to me, he was visibly calmer, though no less angry. "I apologize for startling you," he said formally. "Obviously you thought you had something to fear, and grabbing you probably wasn't the best idea."

"Damn right it wasn't," I said, jumping when Jenks landed on my shoulder. "And don't try to sell me any crap about the kindly demon. I know three of you now, and you are all evil, insane, or just plain nasty."

Minias smiled, but it didn't make me feel any better. His eyes drifted over the inside of my bubble. "I'm not kindly, and if I could get away with it, I'll drag you into the ever-after and have someone broker you off - but Newt would get involved..." He shifted his eyes to focus on me. "She doesn't remember you right now. I would like to keep it that way."

"Tink's little red thong," Jenks whispered, grabbing my ear for balance. Stomach clenched, I retreated until I found the fridge, the stainless steel cold through my thin chemise.

"With this debt standing between us without even a mark to keep things tidy, taking you would be in bad taste." Minias tugged his sleeves down over his wrists. "Once I grant whatever stupid wish you want, I won't have to restrain myself, but until then you're relatively safe."

My chin lifted. Bastard. He had scared me on purpose. I didn't feel bad now at all for burning his eyes, or stomping on his privates, or for him running into my bubble. And I wasn't going to trust that until we settled this I was immune to him.

"Jenks," I said softly as Minias looked over my kitchen, "will you send one of your kids to get Ceri?" She was likely over her pique at my sorry-ass ley line skills. And I didn't want to do this without her.

"I'll go," he said. "They aren't allowed to leave the garden." My neck went cold in the breeze on his wings, and he hovered, his angular features pinched. "You'll be okay?"

I watched Minias touch the herbs drying on the overhanging rack, wanting to tell him to get his fingers off them. "I'll be fine," I said. "He's in a good circle."

Minias's eyes followed Jenks zipping out with an unusual amount of interest. Looking mildly annoyed, he scuffed his bare feet against the linoleum, and a pair of embroidered slippers appeared on them. Slowly his brow smoothed under his brown curls. I fixed on the alienness of his eyes, trying to see the sideways pupil beside the dark iris. His back against the counter, he crossed his ankles and waited. Beside him was my spell to stop sneezing, and I didn't like the patronizing look he had favored me with after giving the pentagram a cursory glance.

"You're vastly deficient in line etiquette," he said dryly, "but I'll admit that this is better than the moldy basements I'm always hearing about."

"I didn't know you were making me sneeze," I huffed. "You can't know what you haven't been told."

Minias brought his attention from the dark garden. One eyebrow rose. "Yes you can." Turning, he started messing in the remnants of my ley line spell. "So what's it going to be?" he said, holding the crucible in one hand and running a finger through the soot with the other. "Eternal life? Untold wealth? Unlimited knowledge?"

I didn't like the way he was rubbing his thumb and finger together, smelling the ash as if it had meaning. "Stop that," I said.

Eyeing me from under his brown curls, he set the crucible down.

The sight of his elegantly robed figure doing something as mundane as tearing a paper towel and cleaning his finger looked odd. I frowned, my tension rising when he crouched to see my spell books.

"Leave those alone," I muttered, wishing Ceri would hurry.

Swearing in Latin, Minias took his fingers off my books. When he rose, he had my nested set of copper spell pots, my splat gun sitting nice as could be in the smallest. I had a moment of worry that the charms in it, though expired, might have enough of my aura to break the circle. Minias, though, gave it only a quick glance, turning his attention to the largest pot. It was the one I had dented against Ivy's head, and I didn't like it when he held it up in disdainful disgust. "You don't actually use this?" he asked.

"Would you knock it off?" I protested. God, what was it with him? He was worse than Jenks when it came to inquisitiveness. His eyebrows high in amusement, Minias set the spell pot down and picked up the open spell book on the counter. My jaw clenched, but I said nothing this time. His lips curled up in amusement, Minias held the book splayed open in a single hand and, after adjusting his hat, levered himself up to sit on the counter beside my ley line charm. His curly head was almost among the pots and herbs.

Exhaling slowly, I took a step forward. "Look," I said, and he drew his alien-seem gaze to mine. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were trying to reach me. Can we just get this mark thing settled so we can all move on with our lives? "

Eyes returning to the book, Minias took off his hat and murmured, "That's what I'm here for. You've had time to think up a wish. It's been almost five hundred years since I dealt with temporals, and I don't want to start it up again now, so let's hear it."

My head dropped, and, suddenly nervous, I hiked myself up onto the counter beside the sink. Temporals, huh? Arms wrapped around knees drawn up to my chin, I thought of Jenks's shorter life span and how wishes always came back to bite you. Sure, the one I had made to get out of the I. S. had worked, but I was still trying to get out from under the demon marks that had come from it. If I wished for a longer life for Jenks, he might be in a state where he couldn't do anything. Or maybe he'd be the first vampire pixy, or something equally unpleasant. "I don't want a wish," I whispered, feeling like a coward.

"No?" Clearly surprised, the demon shifted his legs, letting them drape down the counter to hide my spell books. "You want a curse?" His clean-shaven features turned sour. "I've never taught a witch, but I could probably wedge something past your thick skull."

Interesting. "I don't want to know how to do a curse," I said. "Not from you anyway."

Minias brought his wandering gaze from my yew cuttings drying in the corner. Cocking his head, he looked at me as if I'd only now caught his attention. "No?" he repeated. With one hand he made a gesture of question. "What do you want, then?"

Nervous, I slid from the counter. I didn't want to do anything without Ceri, but saying no seemed harmless enough. "I don't want anything."

Minias's smile went patronizing. "And I'll believe that when the two worlds collide."

"Well, yeah, I want stuff," I said bitterly, not fond of being offered everything when getting it would cause more trouble than not having it to begin with. "I want my partner to live longer than a stinking twenty years. I want my friend to find some peace in her life and her choices. I want my stinking church..." I slammed my hand on the counter to make my palm sting. "... resanctified so I don't have to worry about the undead while I sleep! And I want to get rid of that thing in my freezer before it (a) starts an Inderland power struggle or (b) brings Newt knocking on my door for a cup of sugar again. But you..." I pointed. "... would give me what I want in such a way that it would ruin any joy I found in it, so forget it!" Angry and wondering if I was making a mistake, I crossed my arms and sulked.

Minias closed the book with a snap. I jumped, and, his red eyes fixed on me with an unsettling intensity, he slipped from the counter and came two steps forward. "You know what she was here for? You have it?"

My pulse quickened, and I pulled myself straight in worry. "I think so."

Minias stood stock-still, only the hem of his robe moving. "Give it to me. I'll make sure Newt never bothers you again."

My mouth was dry. Seeing him want it so badly, I knew that giving it to him would be a very big mistake. He didn't even know what it was. "Right."

I said. "Like how you kept track of her the other night? You can't control her, and you know it."

He took a breath to protest, and I arched my eyebrows. Head bowing in thought, Minias dropped back a step.

"You don't have anything I want, demon," I said. "You're going to have to owe me."

"You think I'm going to wear your mark?" he said, and my head came up at the incredulousness in his tone. "I am not going to wear your mark." His cheeks were pale, but there was a deep anger in his eyes.

"Why not?" I said, liking the idea if only because he didn't. I recalled Trent saying I made decisions on the basis of how much I could irritate people, and I frowned. Minias, though, didn't see it, since he had made a huff of noise and turned his back to me.

His shoulders were very broad, and with the robe and hat he looked regal and elegant next to me in my sandals, jeans, and chemise. I was still connected to the line, and I could feel my hair starting to snarl. I ran a hand over my curls, thinking I was really stupid to be worrying about my hair when I had a demon in my kitchen.

Minias's head came up, and I heard the front door shut.

Ceri. Finally.

Ceri's light steps were soft in the hallway, her pleasant voice tight with worry when she called for me. She halted in the threshold, her wide eyes darting from Minias in my circle to me. She was still wearing the same summery, lightweight linen dress she'd had on earlier, and her toes were wet, telling me she had walked through the dew-wet grass barefoot. Jenks was sitting on her shoulder to look as if he belonged there, and I wasn't surprised to see Rex, Jenks's cat, in her arms. The orange kitten was purring, her eyes closed and her paws damp as well.

"God protect us," she said in relief. Jenks flew up in a sparkling of gold, and she let the cat slip to the floor. "Are you all right?" she asked, coming forward but not taking my hands as she used to.

"So far," I said, wondering if she was still mad about last night despite her assurances. I had set the calling circle properly - I just hadn't known it was ringing. Ceri was a hard taskmistress, but she wouldn't stay angry because I was slow on the uptake. Would she?

Rex stood in the middle of the kitchen, her tail twitching in bother as she found herself on the linoleum. She wouldn't let me touch her, but a demon standing three feet away didn't seem to bother her at all. Stupid cat.

"Good evening, Ceri," Minias said pleasantly, but she ignored him, the slight tightening of her lips and her fingers going to her crucifix the only sign she had heard him.

"Have you come to an agreement?" she asked me, worry obvious in her pinched features.

Jenks darted from the window, where he had been checking on his kids. "We were waiting for you."

My chest clenched. We. He said we. It was a small thing, but knowing he hadn't turned his back on me for dealing with demons meant a lot. Damn it, I didn't ask for this!

"Good." Ceri's thin shoulders relaxed. Only now did she turn to stand side by side with me and face Minias. "I'll help you make a contract that will be untwistable."

Minias's bark of laugher caught me off guard, and I frowned when he put his hands behind his back to make himself look immovable. "No," he said simply. "I heard what you did to Al. I bargain with her." His slitted eyes narrowed, and his gaze slid over me to make my skin crawl. "I do not bargain with you, nor will I allow you to act as her liaison."

Red spots appearing on her cheeks, Ceri stiffened. "You can't stipulate anything, you sophomoric... leviter!"

I didn't know what a leviter was, but Minias frowned.

Jenks landed on my shoulder. "She just told him he was a newbie at bargaining," he whispered, and I made a hmmmm of understanding, then wondered how he had known.

Minias looked positively ticked, and I didn't like the way he was tapping his slippers against the bottom of the circle as if looking for a way out. "Both of you knock it off," I said to get their attention. "It doesn't matter, Ceri. I don't want anything from him, so he's going to have to wear my mark."

That didn't sit well with Minias at all, and he smacked his hand into the barrier with a pained grunt. The scent of burnt amber became obvious, and my nose wrinkled. The demon turned his back on me, his robes furling as he inspected his fist, and Rex sauntered out. I heard the cat door squeak, and from the garden came a high-pitched cheer. Rex streaked in, her nails skittering in the hall as she ran to hide-under Ivy's bed, probably.

Jenks flitted to me, hovering so close my eyes almost crossed. "You can do that?"

"He seems to think so." I waved him away only to find Ceri watching me in worry.

"I'm not going to do this!" Minias interjected, and my gaze darted to him, then the clock. Damn it, Ivy would be home soon, and having those two meet was a really bad idea.

"You will," I said, hands on my hips and coming closer. "There is nothing you can give me, nothing you can teach me. Either you take Al's or Newt's mark off me in exchange for your own or you take my mark and get the hell out of my kitchen!"

"Easy," Ceri cautioned, and I jumped when her hand touched my arm.

My skin was tingling, and I felt a surge of incoming force from the line, my control of it slipping as my anger grew. I took a quick breath and narrowed the inflow before my chi overflowed and I'd have to spindle it. "I'm okay. I'm okay..." I said, pushing her hand off me. I felt uncomfortable, and even her light touch was too much.

She backed up uneasily, and Jenks landed on her shoulder. I turned from their twin worried looks. I was fine, damn it!

Ready to push the issue, I rounded on Minias, but the demon had dropped back to the center counter, his smooth face placid and a new glint in his goatlike eyes as he looked at me in speculation. Fear struck through me, and my anger vanished.

Seeing it, Minias smiled. "I'll take your mark, witch," he said. "I'll even teach you how to give one. For free," he added, and my breath hissed in.

"Rache," Jenks chimed. "This is a bad idea."

But Minias had pushed himself into motion, his robe's hem shifting to a halt as he came to stand within inches of the circle's barrier. He smiled, and I shivered. He had absolutely perfect teeth, and his skin was flawless. Just like mine.

Ceri was suddenly at my elbow. "I don't like this."

"Oh, Ceridwen Merriam Dulciate doesn't like it." Minias arched his eyebrows and smirked. "She'll do it. Someday she's going to want something. She's going to want it bad. And I'm going to be the one she calls." He put his round hat back on. "I can hardly wait."

I was sure there were demons more dangerous than Minias, but his owing me a favor sounded like the back door into trouble, not the front door out of the same. My eyes went to the clock again. "Fine. Let's do this."

Ceri made a small noise, and Jenks's wings clattered. The two of them looked alone and unhappy. Minias, though, was pleased. Stepping back from the circle's edge, he gestured in invitation. "We can't do this through a circle," he said, inclining his head.

I cringed, and I wondered if I should just have made a stupid wish, like for a box of cookies or something. My thoughts went to Al and how he had given me my marks, and then Newt. "Newt didn't touch me," I said, feeling the mark heavy on the bottom of my foot.

"You know this... how?" he said, making me feel even better.

Oh, God. My stomach tightened at the idea of letting Minias out. Ceri could hold a circle bigger than my kitchen circle. She could make an airlock of sorts. "Ceri?"

"I can hold him, but to trust his word he won't hurt you? I... I don't like this."

It had been hardly a whisper, and I pulled my gaze from Minias's satisfied stance. Her eyes were worried, and she looked frightened. "There is nothing else I can do," I said. "And he won't hurt me." Sandals squeaking, I turned to him. "Will you?"

Flowing into a relaxed stance, he actually bowed. "I promise I won't hurt you. Until I leave, that is."

"Promise you'll go the instant the mark is made," I countered. "Alone and leaving me untouched."

He straightened and touched his hat to be sure it was in the right spot. "As you say."

Yeah. Right. I glanced at Ceri, who nodded, though she had yet to regain her color. Her motions subdued and unhappy, she took a piece of magnetic chalk from her waistband and, with a single unbroken line, sketched a circle a foot outside of mine. Jenks's wings hummed in agitation, and, steadying myself, I stepped over it. The demon watched it all in a bored satisfaction. Why am I doing this again?

"I'm going in with you," Jenks said, his wings cooling my neck as he hovered beside me.

"No you aren't." I didn't have time for this.

"Like you can stop me?"

"Jenks..." But it was too late, and I gave Ceri a nasty look when her circle went up, trapping him with me.

"You need someone to watch your back," she said, not at all apologetic.

Oh, man ... I thought, eyeing her through the sheet of ever-after between us. Once she got that hard slant to her eyes, arguments were useless. Jenks landed on my shoulder with a smug harrumph. I smelled the oil he used to clean his garden sword, and I wasn't surprised he had bared the lethal blade. "Let's kick this pig," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Kick the pig? How about kick the witch? She apparently needs some sense knocked into her. I turned to Minias. "You got any problems with this?"

Taking a symbolic step backward, Minias gestured for me to come through.

Steadying myself, I reached to touch the inner bubble, breaking it. I stiffened as the energy needed to hold the barrier suddenly flowed into me, filling my chi before slipping back to the line out back. I didn't let go of the line, wanting it in case I had to do something fast, but it was a relief to bring the levels coursing through me to a more reasonable level. Jenks's wings fanned my neck, and my hair ticked me.

Minias breathed deep as if cataloging my scent now that it wasn't tainted by a sheet of ever-after, and my stomach knotted. "It's a pleasure, Rachel Mariana Morgan," he said.

My blood quickened at the new sound of his voice, deeper almost. "Just Rachel, okay," I said, hoping I wasn't making as big a mistake as I thought I was. Minias smiled. Great. Another charming demon. I sort of prefer the insane ones. My eyes darted to the clock. I had to get this done before Ivy got back. I jerked when he moved, but all Minias did was pick up the knife I'd left on the counter behind him. Oh, God, I'm going to be sick.

Jenks took flight when Minias extended the blade to me, hilt first. "Cut me with it while saying abyssus abyssum invocat, and it should trigger the curse."

My hand shook as I took the dagger from his long fingers. It was a curse? Well, duh, I thought, recalling that my demon marks had transformed along with me when I'd been a wolf. Swallowing, I pulled my gaze up to his curly hair and his eyes, so very wrong. "That's it?"

He nodded with no expression, and my tension rose another notch. "It's a public curse. To do it longhand would require some time and be pointless."

I accepted the dagger. It felt heavy and smooth in my grip, the ornate carvings obvious against my fingers. "Who gets the imbalance?" I asked.

At that, Minias started. "You know about the cost?"

"Of course she knows about that!" Jenks said. "You think you're dealing with a sophomoric leviter?"

He scowled, and I smiled, admittedly a sour one. Ceri moved so I could see her. She was smug, pleased her student was holding her own. "Who gets the smut?" I asked again.

Minias ran a finger down the embroidered edge of his sleeve. "The wearer of it. But unlike most curses, the smut vanishes along with the mark. Unless the wearer dies before paying it."

Ceri nodded, saying he was telling the truth. My legs were shaking. I had to get rid of my demon marks. I didn't know how much longer I could keep my body and soul together if demons kept showing up in my church.

Dagger in my grip, I stared at him. I was going to have to cut him. Demon magic sucked. "Tell me where you want it," I said.

Minias drew back, his purple robes shifting about his ankles. "You're asking me?"

"Well, unless you want a big R on your forehead."

It almost looked like he wanted to smile. "Behind my ear, if you would."

I ran my gaze up his formidable height. "You're going to have to bend over."

Jenks snickered. "You want some lubricant? Rachel's going to screw you over good."

"Jenks!" I exclaimed, then stifled a shriek when Minias swooped forward and, before Jenks could react, grabbed me about the waist. Twisting, he plunked my butt on the counter.

"Can you reach me now?" he said, his eyes happy that he had scared me. Damn it, I wasn't safe in here, I don't care what he'd agreed to.

Ceri paced outside the circle, and Jenks was shedding white-hot sparkles. "Don't touch me," I said, my voice high as I sat frozen on the counter, shaking as I gripped my knife. "You touch me again, and I'll... I'll do something!"

"This is the most backward bargain I've ever made," Minias muttered sulkily, not impressed with my threat. He glanced at Jenks hovering out of his reach with his sword bared, then moved his attention to me. "Well?"

My hand was still shaking. He was at the right height, and nervous, I reached out with my free hand and brushed his curly hair aside to show the pale skin behind it. I could smell the ever-after on him, but combined with the herbs around me it sort of smelled nice. I let his soft hair slip through my fingers, then pulled his curls back once more, enjoying the sensation.

"Touch me like that again," Minias said in a low voice, "and I'll rip your fingers off."

I glanced at Ceri and remembered her twisted affections for her demon captor. "Sorry." Immediately I strengthened my hold on the line. Steeling myself, I felt my grip on the knife go slick with sweat. "I'm really sorry," I said, then made a quick downward cut.

Normal-looking blood flowed, and Jenks's wings hummed in agitation. Minias stiffened. "Invoke the curse, you idiot!" he snapped.

Ceri was standing helplessly outside her circle, and before I lost my nerve, I said the words. A curious sensation pulled through me, like when I had called Minias the first time. I was tapping in to a communal spell, and it gave me the willies. My lips parted, and Jenks swore as the cut mended right before me, a line of scar tissue showing when the smear of ever-after vanished.

"Holy crap!" Jenks blurted, and Minias jerked away. Three steps from me, he felt the skin behind his ear and frowned. Remembering the knife in my hand, I dropped it. The clatter of it hitting the counter was loud.

"You promised you'd leave," I reminded him. "Now."

His goat-slitted eyes fixed on me, and though I knew it was impossible, I felt as if he were seeing my past, or maybe my future. Face unreadable, Minias leaned close. The cloying odor of burnt amber mixed with the dry scent of his silk robes, and I refused to shrink away. "I can change my eyes if I work at it," he murmured, and I jerked back.

"It could be you didn't hear my voice because you're an unregistered user," he added, as if not having said his previous words. "You need to change that."

Ceri was pale, and, feeling ill, I said, "I don't want to be in a demon registry. Go."

Minias touched the crucible, his fingers coming away with ash. "It's too late. You put yourself on it when you called me the first time. Either update your information so I can reach you, or I have every right to pop over here anytime I think I have a way to remove my mark."

My head came up, and I stared, sick with dread. Damn. Was that why he had agreed to wear the mark in the first place? Minias's eyes glittered with success, and I dropped my head into my cupped hand. Double damn. "How do I register?" I said flatly, and he snickered.

"You need a password. Connect to your calling circle as if you're going to contact me, and while connected to aline, think your given name, and then follow it with your password. QED."

Simple enough. "Get a password," I said, feeling weary. "Okay. I can do that."

Minias was eyeing me from under some curls that had escaped from his hat. He was silent for a moment, and then, as if he didn't really want to, he crossed his arms over his chest and said, "You have a common name that everyone calls you and a password that you keep to yourself. Pick it carefully. That's how people pull demons over the lines."

Horrified, I looked from Jenks to Ceri, who was now holding her stomach. "A summoning name?" I stammered, figuring it out. "Your password is a summoning name?"

The demon grimaced. "If it gets out, yes, it can be used to force someone across the lines. That's why you pick a password that no one can piece together."

I backed up until I bumped into Ceri's circle. "I don't want a password."

"Fine with me," Minias said snidely. "But if I can't contact you, I'm going to come over when it's convenient for me, not you. And seeing as I don't care, it's going to be right before sunrise when you're trying to sleep, or making dinner, or screwing your boyfriend." His eyes drifted over the kitchen. "Or is it girlfriend?"

"Shut up!" I exclaimed, worried and embarrassed. But I was stuck, and stuck tight.

"Make it impossible to guess," Minias said. "Nonsense syllables."

My mouth opened in an 0 of realization. "That's why demon names are so weird," I said, and from behind him Ceri nodded. Her face was white, and she looked as shaky as I felt.

"Demon names aren't weird," Minias said indignantly. "They serve a purpose."

Jenks landed on my shoulder. "How about your name backward? Nagromanairamlehcar."

I felt my face twist. It sounded like a demon name.

"Terrible," Minias said, and I moved back when he picked up my chalkboard and set it on the counter. "Your names backward will be the first one Al tries, and if he figures it out, he can do untold mischief under your name. And nix on the birthdates, hobbies, favorite ice cream, movie stars, or old boyfriends. No numbers or weird characters that can't be pronounced. Stay away from the backward theme. It's too easy to run through the dictionary and find you."

"That would take forever," I scoffed, then blanched when Minias set his red eyes on me.

"Forever is just about what we have."

I felt something shift, and I watched him, ready to move if he did. But he turned away, glancing at my kitchen clock above the sink.

"You need to leave," I said, hearing my voice shake, and Jenks's wings clattered as he took flight to hover between us.

"Mmmm." Minias inclined his head. "I agree. We're done now, but with this mark between us to settle up, I will be talking to you. It's my God-given right to try to pay it off." Touching the side of his hat, he vanished in a cascading sheet of ever-after.

I tightened my grip on my line as I felt him use it to cross into the ever-after. Numb, I stared at where he had been. What in hell have I just done?

Immediately Ceri broke her circle, almost knocking me over as she gave me a hug to be sure I was still alive. "Rachel."

Crap. What have I done?

"Rachel!"

Ceri was shaking me, and I blearily looked at her. Seeing my awareness return, she sighed in relief, and her hands fell from my shoulders. "Rachel," she said again, softer. "I don't think you should do demon magic anymore."

Jenks lit on her shoulder where he could see me; he was scared. "You think?" I said bitterly, wiping a hand under my eye. It came away wet, but I wasn't crying. Not really.

"Actually..." Ceri dropped her head, clearly worried. "I don't think you should do any ley line magic either."

Sliding down from the counter, I looked past Ceri to the dark garden lit with the occasional flicker of pixy dust. My dad hadn't wanted me to have anything to do with ley line magic. Maybe... Maybe I should have a talk with Trent as to why.

Chapter Thirteen

"Rachel, hand me the hammer, will you?" Ivy said, her voice raised so she could be heard over the pixies yammering in the corner loud enough to make my eyeballs ache. "I've got another popped nail," she added as I puffed to blow a curl that had escaped my ponytail out of my eyes.

Jamming the rolled insulation back between the two-by-four studs, I turned. The afternoon sun came in the high windows in the living room to make dusty beams that the pixies were playing in. They had just woken from their afternoon nap, and Jenks had them in here so Matalina could get a few extra winks. She'd been feeling poorly lately, but Jenks had assured us that she was doing fine. His kids were a bloody nuisance, but I wasn't going to suggest they leave. Matalina could get all the sleep she wanted.

Fumbling, I pulled the hammer from the sill. I had borrowed it from my mom this morning, having dodged her questions with the excuse that I was putting up a birdhouse, not fixing the damage of an insane demon who'd trashed our living room. That it was July and too late for nests had never occurred to her.

"Here," I said, smacking the ash handle into Ivy's bare hand with a soft and certain pop. She smiled before turning to pound in a nail that had pulled through the paneling Newt had ripped down. Pixies squealed, and Jenks's attention shot to them as he sat on a far sill with his youngest set of sextuplets, teaching them to tie their shoes.

Immediately his blurring wings stilled, and he resumed his lesson. It was a nice piece of pixy life we didn't get a chance to see often, a reminder that Jenks had an entire life outside of Ivy and me.

Ivy looked like a construction worker's calendar girl in her worn hip-hugger jeans and black T-shirt, her straight hair covered with one of those paper hats you get at paint stores. Body moving with a controlled grace, she pounded the stray nail into the paneling. Soon as she backed up, three pixies were there to inspect it, all helpfully pointing out the tear she had made in the paper veneer. Saying nothing, Ivy glued it back down and continued on.

Smiling, I turned away. Ivy wasn't pleased she had missed another one of my encounters with a demon. It was probably why she was hanging so tight today, needing to reassure herself that I was okay. And I could use her help. After seeing the estimate to replace a few sheets of paneling and carpet, we had decided to do it ourselves.

So far it had been easy. Just tidy the studs Newt had pulled the paneling off and put up new. There was no wall behind the thin sheets, and the insulation was the roll type, not the blown-in stuff we had put in the church's ceilings last fall. It didn't really look up to code, but that's what you get when you do it yourself. As for the carpet, it could stay out on the curb. There had been an oak floor under it. All it needed was a nice coat of shine.

"Thanks," Ivy said, handing the hammer back, and I slid it onto the mantel.

"No problem." I straightened my short-sleeved shirt to cover my midriff and pulled a handful of thin nails from the box beside the hammer and arranged them between my lips. "You wanna 'old 'is for 'ee well I 'ammer it?" I asked as I tried to maneuver an unwieldy piece of paneling into place.

Bending, Ivy took it by the one edge and wedged it tight against the old paneling, her vampire strength making it look like she was holding a sheet of cardboard.

With a few quick whacks, I put a nail in the upper left corner, moved around her to put another in the lower right, then a third in the upper right. The rich scent of vampire incense mixed with the sawdust and my latest perfume in a pleasant fragrance of contentment. "Thanks," I said after I took the nails out of my mouth. "I can get it now."

Her smooth oval face showing nothing, she backed up, her hands rubbing against each other as if soothing herself. It was the first time we had done anything together since she had bitten me, and it felt good. Like we were back to normal.

"Hey, Rache," Jenks said loudly as the kids before him rose up and joined the others in a dusty sunbeam, "I've got one for you. How about Rumpelstiltskin?"

I didn't bother to write that one down on the legal pad sitting on the dusty mantel, simply lifting my eyebrows at him as he laughed at me. I'd been trying to think up a password since coming back from my mom's with the toolbox, and I wasn't having any luck.

"I'd go with an acronym," Ivy suggested. "One that isn't in the dictionary. Or your names backward?" Her eyes fixed on mine with an odd intensity as she intoned, "Nagromanairamlehcar."

That both Jenks and she had thought of the same thing proved Minias was right about the no-backward theme. "No," I said before Jenks did. "Minias nixed it. He said it's too easy to run through the dictionary backward and find you. No numbers, no spaces, no real words, and nothing backward." Grabbing a few more nails, I stretched to reach the top of the panel.

Ivy dropped back and watched me for a moment before starting to move quietly about and put the tools away. I could feel her attention on me as I worked down the stud line, aware she was there but not uncomfortable about it. It was noon, for criminy's sake, and she had probably slaked her blood lust with Skimmer last night. And does that bother me? I asked myself, smacking a nail with an extra amount of force. Not at all. Not one bit. But I couldn't stop the memory of her biting me swim up from my unconscious.

A soft tingle grew at my old demon scar, and I stayed still, simply tasting the feeling that warmed me from my skin inward and trying to decide if it had been born from my thoughts and Ivy's pheromones - or my desire for her to be happy. Did it matter?

Jenks flew up from the sill and moved to the mantel, his wings clearing the dust from where he landed. "How about something in Latin?" he said as he walked to my list and stared down at it. "Like 'kick-ass witch,' or 'royally screwed.' "

"Raptus regaliter?" I said, thinking it sounded too much like Rumpelstiltskin. "They all know Latin. I think that comes under using words in the dictionary."

His expression sly, Jenks glanced at Ivy as she put the drill away. "How about Iaasw," he said. "Which means 'I am a stupid witch' - or here's one." Grinning, he stood on my list with his hands on his hips. "Nuacsiepasn? That's a great name."

Ivy shook the thick contractor garbage bag down and dropped her paper hat in it. "What's that stand for?"

" 'Never under any circumstances should I ever pick a summoning name.'"

I pressed my lips together and hammered a nail.

Ivy snickered and took a sip of bottled water she had on the sill. "I think we should call her Spam, because her ass is going to be in a tin if she's not careful."

Ticked, I turned, hammer in hand. "You know what?" I said, waving it in a weak threat. "You can all just shut up. You can all shut up right now."

Capping her water, Ivy frowned. "I don't even know why you're doing this."

"Ivy - " I started, tired of it.

"It's asking for trouble," she said, setting the empty bottle back on the sill.

Jenks stood on my list, staring down at it with his hands on his hips. "She's doing it for the thrill," he said distantly.

"I am not!" I protested.

They both looked at me in disbelief. "Yes you are," Jenks said as if it didn't bother him. "It's textbook Rachel. Coming close to something lethal, but not quite there." He smiled. "And we lo-o-o-o-ove you for it," he crooned.

"Shut up," I muttered, turning my back on him and hammering. "I'm doing this so Minias doesn't have to pop over here to get that mark resolved." Leaning into the sun, I grabbed another handful of nails. "You liked Minias showing up that way?" I said.

His eyes on his kids clustered on the windowsill, Jenks shrugged. "I agree with what you're doing, but not why."

"I just told you why." Nervous, I tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. "Look, if you don't want to help me pick out a password, that's fine. I can do it myself."

Ivy and Jenks glanced questioningly at each other - as if I were incapable of doing this on my own - and my blood pressure spiked.

"Dad!" came a high-pitched shriek from a desperate pixy. "Dad! Jariath and Jumoke glued my wings shut!"

Surprised, I felt my anger ping to nothing, and I turned to the window. Four streaks of gray raced out of the living room. There was a metallic crash from the kitchen, and I wondered what had hit the floor. Jenks stood frozen, his face a mix of fear of what would happen if Matalina found out and embarrassment that he had taken his eyes off them long enough for them to glue someone's wings together.

Instantly he recovered and was airborne. Darting to the shelf, he tucked the hysterical child under his arm and took off after the other's. In a swirl of silk and dismay, the entire clan whirled into motion. "Jariathjackjunisjumoke!" Jenks shouted from the kitchen, and then even that was gone, to leave only a shimmering sifting of dust and an echo of memory in our thoughts.

"Damn!" Ivy said to break the silence, then started to laugh quietly. Taking up the glue, she glanced at the label and tossed it to me. Water soluble, I thought, then dropped it into the toolbox. I smiled ruefully, and though I hoped Jenks got his kid's wings unglued, I thought I had my summoning name right there. Jariathjackjunisjumoke. If I ever forgot it, all I'd have to do was ask any pixy kid who had gotten their backsides tanned for glueing someone's wings shut.

"Oh, hey," Ivy said after bending to the portable radio and clicking it on. "Have you heard Takata's latest?"

"Yup." Glad the pixies were gone, I grabbed more nails as the song in question belted out. "I can't wait until the winter solstice. Think he'll ask us to work security again? "

"God, I hope so."

She turned it up to sing with the refrain - her voice soft but clear. When I finished hammering in the last nail in the row, Ivy maneuvered the final piece of paneling in place, and I tacked in the corners without pause. We worked well together. We always had.

The sound of pixies laughing in the garden assured me everything was fine. Relaxing, I breathed in the distinctive scent of raw wood and insulation. It was a bright day. The heat wave had finally snapped. Jenks was doing dad stuff. Ivy and I were getting back to normal. And she was singing. It couldn't get much better than that.

My expression softened when I realized she was singing words to a verse that I couldn't hear. It was the vamp track that Takata put in his music, something special that only the undead and their scions could hear. Well, Trent had a pair of spelled headphones that let him hear it, but that didn't count. He had offered me a set once. I had turned him down because of what he would have attached to his "gift." Even so, while hearing Ivy harmonize to Takata's voice, both rough and smooth, I wished I had a pair. The one time I had listened in with Trent's headphones, the woman's tortured, pure voice had been exquisite.

Ivy grabbed the broom and started sweeping. I finished one line of nails, bent upside down for the last few, then started on the next column. Intent on trying to catch what Ivy was singing, I missed a nail, grazing my thumb. I jerked, yelping when the sharp pain zinged through me. My thumb was in my mouth almost before I knew I had nicked it.

"You okay?" Ivy asked, and I nodded, eyeing the red mark on my thumb, then checked out the wall. Crap, I had dented the paneling.

"Don't worry about it," Ivy said. "We can put the couch there."

Tired, I whacked the nail one more time. Tossing the hammer into the toolbox, I sat on the hearth, stretched out my legs, and eyed my thumbnail. It was going to turn purple. I knew it.

Ivy resumed sweeping, her motions slow and even - hypnotic, almost. The music changed from Takata to an obnoxious man screaming about cars, and I leaned to turn it off. My shoulders eased in the new silence. The hush of the broom was soothing, and the garden had gone silent, the pixies off doing pixy things at the far end of the graveyard, no doubt.

Bending sharply, Ivy swept the splinters and dust into the pan, her black hair flashing silver when it hit the sun. The rattle of plastic was soft as she dropped it into the contractor garbage bag. A wry smile came over my face when she began sweeping the entire floor again. I lurched to my feet and started rearranging the tools in the box so I could get the thing shut. I'd return them to my mom this Sunday when I went over for my post-birthday dinner. There was no getting out of it. I just hoped she hadn't invited anyone else with the intent to play matchmaker. Maybe I should call and tell her Ivy was coming. That would put the curl in her eyelashes. And then she would set an extra place for Ivy, just glad I was with someone.

"How's your thumb?" Ivy asked into the silence, and I started.

"Fine." I glanced at it as I came up from snapping the latches on the toolbox. "I hate it when I do stuff like that."

Ivy propped the broom against the wall by the door and came closer. "Let me see."

Eager for some sympathy, I held it out, and she took my hand.

A shiver went through me, and, feeling it, Ivy glanced from under her short bangs, iced in gold. "Stop it," she said darkly. Pissed almost.

"Why?" I said, pulling my hand away. "You did bite me. I know how it feels, and how it makes you feel. I want to find a blood balance. Why don't you? "

Ivy's face turned to a shocked surprise. Hell, I had surprised myself, and a stirring of adrenaline tingled under my skin as my pulse quickened.

"I bit you?" she said, anger coloring her words. "You practically seduced me. Played on every instinct I had."

"Well... you gave me the book," I shot back. "You expect me to believe you didn't want me to?"

For a moment she said nothing, eyes slowly dilating as she stood in the sun. I held my breath, not knowing what might happen. If she had to be mad to talk to me, then she had to be mad. But instead of coming back with more anger, she retreated a step. "I don't want to talk about it," she said. I started to protest, and she turned, vanishing past the archway.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, knowing it was a bad idea to follow a fleeing vampire, but when had I ever done the smart thing?

"Ivy," I complained, finding her at the kitchen sink, scrubbing furiously. The sharp scent of cleanser was thick, and a cloud of it hung over her, glittering in the sun. She must have dumped half the canister. "I want to talk about it," I said, and she shot me a look that struck me cold. "I know what to expect now," I added doggedly from the hallway. "It won't be as bad."

"You don't know what bad is," she said, then turned on the tap. Her motions were rough, edging into a vampire quickness. Realizing I was blocking her exit, I sidled into the kitchen and pretended to get a bottle of water. My pulse was fast, and I shut the fridge door, cracking the cap and taking a swig.

"How often do you need blood?" I asked, then jumped when she whipped around, her hands tangled in a dish towel.

"That's putting it ugly, Rachel," she accused, hurt showing in the slant of her eyebrows.

"It's not ugly," I protested. "That's the point. You need blood to feel good about yourself. Hell, I need sex at least once a week if I'm dating someone I care about, or I'm plagued with delusions that the guy doesn't love me, or he's cheating on me, or any number of stupid, groundless ideas. It doesn't make sense, but there it is. Why should you be any different? So how often do you need to share blood to feel secure and happy? "

Her face was scarlet beside her black hair. How about that? Under it all, Ivy was shy.

"Two or three times a week," she muttered. "It's not that I need a lot at any one time. It's the act, not the result." Then her roving eyes fixed on me, striking me to my core.

"I can do that," I said, heart pounding. I can, right?

Ivy stared. Abruptly she shifted into motion, and I was looking at an empty room.

"Ivy!" I exclaimed, setting the bottle on the table and following her out. "I'm not asking you to bite me. I simply want to talk!" I glanced into her room and bathroom in passing, then heard her footsteps in the sanctuary. She was leaving. Typical. "Ivy..." I cajoled, then caught my breath in a tiny gasp when I entered the sanctuary and she was suddenly before me.

I stumbled to a stop, taking in her wire-tight posture and her black eyes. I was pushing it, and we both knew it. My demon scar was tingling from the pheromones she was kicking out, and the memory of Jenks telling me I was an adrenaline junkie surfaced. But damn it, this was the most I'd gotten her to open up in months.

"You're following me," she said, the threat behind her voice making me stifle a shudder.

"I want to talk," I said. "Just talk. I know you're afraid - "

"Hey!" I yelped when her arm shot out and pushed my shoulder. My back touched the wall, and I looked up. Ivy was right in front of me, eyes black as sin - and alive as the sun.

"I have good reason to be afraid," she said, her breath shifting my hair. "You think I don't want to bite you? You think I don't want to fill myself with you again? You love me, Rachel, whether you know what to do about it or not, and love without demands comes so seldom to a vampire. It drives me insane knowing you're right there and I can't have you!"

I stared, pulse racing, knees going weak. Maybe following her had been a mistake.

"I want it so bad that I hurt people to keep you safe and almost criminally innocent," Ivy said. "So if I don't bite you, trust me, there's a reason."

She pushed hard on my shoulder and turned around.

Shocked, I watched her walk away. The sun coining in through the stained-glass windows made spots of color on her as her arms swung stiffly. My resolve strengthened. I took a step after her. This pattern of her fleeing my questions was getting old.

"Talk to me," I demanded. "Why won't you at least try to find a way to make this work? You could be so happy, Ivy!"

Ivy halted just before the foyer, hand on her hip as she faced the door. For three heartbeats she stood before she slowly spun. Slim and tense, she made a picture of collected frustration. "You can't stop me," she said simply, and I took a protesting step forward. "You're too wrapped up in the ecstasy to keep conscious enough to stop me if things go wrong, and, Rachel, unless I mix sex with it, things will go wrong. It's how Piscary made me."

A glimmer of her self-disgust, her hatred of who she was, showed, and my heart ached to prove to her she was wrong. My breath came fast, and I held it. "I know what to expect now," I said softly. "It was the surprise. I can do better."

Hip cocked, she looked to her left as if searching for strength. Or maybe answers. "Better won't keep you alive," she said, and I went cold at the caustic sound. "You don't have it in you. You said yourself you don't want to hurt me. If I take your blood again without letting my feelings for you shackle my hunger, you're going to have to hurt me, because the hunger will take control, and I'm not capable of stopping then. Think you can do that?"

My mouth went dry, and my first words came out in a croak. "I..." I stammered, "I don't have to hurt you to stop you."

"Is that so?" she said, and as I stood frozen with my eyes wide, she dropped her purse. "Let's find out."

I jerked back as she leapt. Gasping, I dove toward her, pushing off the wall. My intent was to get past her. If she got a hold on me, I was dead meat. This wasn't passion. This was anger. Anger at herself, perhaps, but anger.

The thump of her hitting the wall where I had been brought my heart into my throat. I spun where I landed. She was coming back, and I grabbed her arm, wrenching it to lever her into falling. She twisted from me, rolled by the sound of it, and I spun.

But I was too slow, and I bit back a yelp when a white arm slipped around my neck. Her fingers pinched my hand, bending my wrist backward until it hurt, I went slack in her grip, caught and unable to best her vampire reactions. It was over that quickly. She had me.

"Hurt me, Rachel," she whispered, stirring my hair. "Show me you aren't afraid to hurt me. If you aren't brought up that it's the norm, it's harder than you think."

She wasn't masochistic. She was a realist, trying to get me to understand. Frightened, I struggled, pain ripping through my shoulder. Her grip was confining without being painful. It was my trying to get away that hurt. I went still, eyes wide and focused on the wall. I felt her warm against my back, and tension pulled my muscles tight one by one as the tingling started high in my neck and trickled lower.

"We can share blood without love if you hurt me," Ivy breathed, her breath brushing my ear. "We can share blood without hurt if you love me. There is no middle ground."

"I don't want to hurt you," I said, knowing that my magic was like a ball bat. I had no finesse. It would hurt her, and hurt her bad. "Let go," I demanded, shifting. She tightened her grip, and a thread of heat coiled in my center as my motion ended with more of our bodies touching. This had started as an object lesson to get me to leave her alone, but now... Oh, God. What if she bites me again. Right now?

"You're the one stopping us from finding a blood balance," she said. "Love is pain, Rachel. Figure it out. Get over it."

It wasn't. At least it didn't have to be. I wiggled again. "Ow, ow!" I said, feet scuffling. I was starting to sweat. Her scent poured over me, soothing, enticing, bringing the memory of her teeth sliding into me to the forefront of my thoughts as evolution had intended. And when my eyes closed at a surge of adrenaline pooling in me to set my blood rushing, I realized just what kind of trouble we were in. I didn't want her to let go. "Uh, Ivy?"

"Damn it," she whispered, and the heat in her voice hit me hard.

We were six kinds of stupid. I had only wanted to talk, and she had only wanted to prove how dangerous finding a blood balance would be. And now it was too late for thinking.

Her grip tightened, and I relaxed into it. "God, you smell good," she said, and my pulse thrummed. "I shouldn't have touched you..."

Feeling unreal, I tried to move, finding she'd let me turn to face her. My heart jumped into my throat, and I swallowed as I gazed into her perfect face, flushed with the danger of where we were. Her eyes were black as absolute night, reflecting my image: lips parted, eyes wild. The darkness was colored by the blood lust shimmering in her eyes. And below that, deeper under it all, was her fragile vulnerability.

"I can't hurt you," I said, fear a faint whisper in me.

My neck throbbed with the memory of her lips on me, the glorious feeling of her pulling, drawing what she needed to fill the hurting chasm in her soul. Her eyes closed, and, breathing deeply, I felt myself relax against her as her forehead touched my shoulder. "I'm not going to bite you," she said, her teeth inches from me, and a pulse of need shocked though me. "I'm not going to bite you."

My soul seemed to darken with her words. The question of what she would do had been answered. She was going to walk away. She was going to let go, drop back, and walk away.

A feeling of loss rose to wind around my lungs, crushing my air from me.

"But I want to," she said, and the chained desire in her whisper sent a pulse through me.

I gasped as the unexpected sensation dove to my middle and set me alight, twice as potent since I had given up on it. It was followed by fear, and Ivy's grip clenched. I froze when she tilted her head, her lips brushing just shy of my scar. "Either bite me or let me go," I breathed, dizzy with need. How did this happen? How did it happen so fast?

"Close your eyes," she said, her gray voice holding the emotion she was trying to control.

My pulse hammered, and, lids fluttering, I felt her pull back. In my imagination I could see her black eyes, see the heat in them and the way she got off on self-denial followed by a savage fulfillment when it became too much for her to contain, the guilt coating her soul.

"Don't move," she said, and I trembled at her breath against my cheek. She was going to bite me. Oh, God, I'd do better this time. I wouldn't let her lose control. I could do this.

"Promise me," she said, running a finger across my neck to make my breath catch, "that this won't change anything. That you know it's a taste for you to try, and that I will do nothing to encourage you. I won't ever do it again unless you come to me. If you come to me. And don't come to me unless you want it all, Rachel. I can't do it any other way."

A taste. I had already tasted this, but I nodded, my eyelids closed. My breath came in a pant, and I held it, waiting. Aching for the feel of her teeth in me. "I promise."

"Keep your eyes shut," she breathed, and I almost moaned when her light touch upon my scar lit a path through me to my groin. I gasped, feeling the wall against my back and her grip on me tighten. My heart pounded, and anticipation coiled deeper, tighter.

The softness of her small lips on mine went almost unnoticed until her hand left my scar and crept to the back of my neck to hold me unmoving. I froze. She's kissing me?

My first reaction to jerk away rose and fell, everything confusing as my body still resonated with the wash of endorphins that her playing on my scar had started. A taste, she had said, and adrenaline pounded. She felt the lack of a violent response, and with her lips the barest whisper on mine, she shifted her hand, finding my scar again.

A groan escaped me. She had let up enough to be sure I knew what she was doing, and now she was going to let me have it all.

"Oh, God, Ivy," I moaned, the conflict between knowledge and emotion making me helpless, and she pressed me into the wall, her lips upon mine again becoming more sure, aggressive. The hint of her tongue brought a gasp from me, and I froze, not knowing what to do. It was too much. I couldn't think. Her light touch retreated, and with a suddenness that shocked through me, she pulled away.

Panting, I leaned against the wall, my eyes open and my hand pressing the throbbing pulse of my neck. Ivy stood four feet away, her eyes utterly black and her body clearly hurting from the effort she had exerted to let go.

"All or nothing, Rachel," she said, stumbling backward, looking afraid. "I'm not going to be the one to leave, and I won't ever kiss you again unless you start it. But if you try to manipulate me into biting you again, I'm going to assume you're taking me up on my offer, and I'll meet you." Her eyes went frightened. "With all of me."

My pulse hammered and my knees wobbled. This was going to make our mornings alone a little more uncomfortable - or a hell of a lot more interesting.

"You promised you wouldn't leave," she said, her voice becoming vulnerable. And then she was gone, her steps sharp as she picked up her purse and fled the church and the confusion she had left me in.

My hand dropped, and I held myself as if trying to keep from falling apart. What in hell have I done? Just stood there and let her do? I should have pushed her away, but I hadn't. I had started it, and she had used my scar to manipulate me into seeing what she offered without fear and holding all the passion it might entail. All or nothing, she had said, and now that I had tasted it all without fear, I knew what that meant.

The rumble of Ivy's cycle echoed in through the open transom windows, fading into the distant sound of traffic. I slowly let myself slide down the wall until I hit the floor, knees scrunched and trying to breathe. Okay, I thought, still feeling the promise of her resonating in me. Now what the hell am I going to do?