Dead Witch Walking (23 page)

The crowd was shouting, wanting to know who won or if we were both dead. I looked through cracked eyelids to find Trent. He didn’t look happy, and I knew our ruse was halfway to being successful. Baron lay very still. A tiny squeak slipped from him, and I carefully answered. A pulse of excitement raced through me and was gone.

“Ladies! Gentlemen!” Jim’s professional voice layered over the noise. “It seems we have a draw. Will the owners please retrieve their animals?” The crowd hushed. “We will have a short break to determine if either contestant is alive.”

My heart raced as the shadows of hands came closer. Baron made three short squeaks and exploded into motion. I belatedly followed, grasping the first hand I found.

“Look out!” someone shouted. I was flung into the air as a hand jerked away. I arched through the air, tail whipping in frantic circles. I glimpsed a surprised face and landed on a man’s chest. He screamed like a girl and brushed me off. I hit the floor hard, stunned. I took three quick breaths, then lurched under his chair.

The noise was astounding. One would think a lion was loose, not two rodents. People scattered. The rush of feet past the chair was unreal. Someone smelling of wood chips reached down. I bared my teeth and he drew back.

“I’ve got the mink,” an official shouted over the noise. “Get me a net.” He glanced away, and I ran. Pulse so fast it was almost a hum, I dodged feet and chairs, nearly slamming head first into the far wall. The blood from my ear was dripping into my eye, blurring my vision. How was I going to get out of there?

“Everyone remain calm!” came Jim’s voice over the loudspeaker. “Please return to the lobby for refreshments while a search is made. We ask that you keep the outer doors closed until we have regained the contestants.” There was a pause. “And somebody get that dog out of here,” he finished loudly.

Doors?
I thought as I peered into the madhouse. I didn’t need a door. I needed Jenks.

“Rachel!” came a call from above me. I squeaked as Jenks landed on my shoulders with a light thump. “You look like crap,” he shouted into my torn ear. “I thought that rat nacked you. When you jumped up and grabbed Jonathan’s hand, I nearly pissed my pants!”

“Where’s the door?” I tried to ask. How he found me would have to wait.

“Don’t have a hissy,” he said defensively. “I left like you said. I just came back. When Trent left with that cat box, I knew you were in it. I hitched a ride under the bumper. Betcha didn’t know that’s how pixies get around the city, did you? You’d better get your furry ass moving before someone sees you.”

“Where!” I squeaked. “Where do I go!”

“There’s a back way out. I did a survey during the first fight. Man, those rats are vicious. Did you see that one bite the other’s foot right off? If you follow this wall for about twenty feet, then down three stairs, you’ll come to a hallway.”

I started moving. Jenks gripped my fur tighter.

“Ugh. Your ear is a mess,” he said as I flowed down the three stairs. “Okay. Go down the hallway to the right. There’s an opening—No! Don’t take it,” he shouted as I did just that. “It’s the kitchen.”

I turned, freezing at the sound of feet on the stairs. My pulse raced. I wouldn’t be caught. I wouldn’t.

“The sink,” Jenks whispered. “The cupboard door isn’t closed. Hurry!”

Spotting it, I scurried across the tile floor, my claws scraping softly. I wedged myself inside. Jenks flitted to peek around the door. Backing away to hide behind a bucket, I listened.

“They aren’t in the kitchen,” a voice shouted, sounding muffled. I felt a knot of worry loosen. He had said “they.” Baron was still free.

Jenks turned, his wings an unseen blur as he stood in the cupboard. “Damn, it’s good to see you. Ivy’s done nothing but stare at a map of Trent’s compound she dug up,” he whispered. “All night muttering and scribbling on paper. Every sheet ends up crumpled in the corner. My kids are having a blast playing hide-and-seek in the pile she’s made. I don’t think she knows I’m gone. She just sits at that map of hers, drinking orange juice.”

I smelled dirt. As Jenks babbled like a Brimstone addict needing his fix, I explored the smelly cupboard to find that the pipe from the sink went under the house through a wood floor. The crack between the iron and the floor was just wide enough for my shoulder. I started chewing.

“I said, get that dog out of here,” a muffled voice shouted. “No. Wait. You have a lead for him? He can find them.”

Jenks came close. “Hey, the floor. That’s a good idea! Let me help.” Jenks alighted next to me, getting in my way.

“Get Baron,” I tried to squeak.

“I can so help.” Jenks pried a toothpick-sized stick of wood from around the hole.

“The rat,” I chittered. “He can’t see.” Frustrated, I knocked over a canister of sink cleaner. The powder spilled out, and the smell of pine became overwhelming. Snatching Jenks’s toothpick, I wrote out, “Get rat.”

Jenks took to the air, a hand over his nose. “Why?”

“Man,” I scrawled. “Can’t see.”

Jenks grinned. “You found a friend! Wait till I tell Ivy.”

I bared my teeth, pointing at the door with my stick. Still he hesitated. “You’ll stay here? Keep making that hole bigger?”

Frustrated, I threw the stick at him. Jenks hovered backward. “All right, all right! Don’t lose your panties. No, wait. You don’t have any, do you?”

His laughter chimed out, sounding like freedom itself, as he slipped past the crack in door. I went back to chewing the floor. It tasted awful, a putrid mix of soap, grease, and mold. I just knew I was going to get sick. Tension strung through me. The sudden thumps and crashes from up front jerked me. I was waiting for the triumphant cry of capture. Fortunately it seemed the dog didn’t know what was expected of it. It wanted to play, and tempers were getting short.

My jaws ached, and I stifled a cry of frustration. Soap had gotten into the cut on my ear, and it was a flaming misery. I tried to stick my head through the hole and into the crawl space. If my head could make it, my body probably could, too. But it wasn’t big enough yet.

“Look!” someone shouted. “He’s working now. He’s got their scent.”

Frantic, I yanked my head out of the hole. My ear scraped and started bleeding again. There was a sudden scratching in the hallway, and I redoubled my efforts. Jenks’s voice came faintly over the sounds of my gnawing. “It’s the kitchen. Rachel is under the sink. No. The next cupboard. Hurry! I think they saw you.”

There was a sudden rush of light and air, and I sat up, spitting pulpy wood from me.

“Hi! We’re back! I found your rat, Rache.”

Baron glanced at me. His eyes were bright. Immediately he bounded over. His head dipped into the hold and he started gnawing. There wasn’t enough room for his wider shoulders. I continued to widen the hole at the top. The yapping of the dog came from the hall. We froze for a heartbeat, then chewed. My stomach clenched.

“Is it big enough?” Jenks shouted. “Go! Hurry!”

Pushing my head into the hole next to Baron’s, I gnawed furiously. There was a scratching at the cupboard door. Shafts of light flickered as the door bumped against the frame. “Here!” a loud voice shouted. “He’s got one in here.”

Hope dying, I pulled my head up. My jaws ached. The pine soap had matted my fur and was burning my eyes. I turned to face the scrabbling of paws. I didn’t think the opening was big enough yet. A sharp squeak drew my attention. Baron was crouched beside it, pointing down.

“It’s not big enough for you,” I said.

Baron lunged at me, yanking me to the hole and stuffing me down. The sound of the dog grew suddenly louder, and I dropped into space.

Arm and legs outstretched, I tried to snag the pipe. A front paw reached a welded seam. I jerked to a stop. Above me the dog barked wildly. There was a scrabble of claws on the wood floor, then a yelp. I started losing my hold. I dropped to the dry earth. I lay there, listening for Baron’s death scream.

I should have stayed,
I thought desperately.
I never should have let him shove me down that hole.
I knew it hadn’t been big enough for him.

There was a quick scratching and a thump in the dirt beside me.

“You made it!” I squeaked, seeing Baron sprawled in the dirt.

Jenks flitted down, glowing in the dim light. There was a dog whisker in his hand. “You should have seen him, Rache,” he said excitedly. “He bit that dog right on the nose. He-yah! Pow! Slam-bam, thank you, ma’am!”

The pixy continued his circles around us, too hyper to sit still. Baron, however, seemed to have the shakes. Curled into a huddled ball of fur, he looked like he was going to be sick. I crept forward, wanting to say thanks. I touched him on his shoulder, and he jumped, staring at me with wide black eyes.

“Get that dog out of here!” came an angry voice through the floor, and we looked up at the faint spot of light. The yapping grew faint, and my pulse eased. “Yup,” Jim said. “Those are fresh chewings. One got out this way.”

“How do we get down there?” It was Trent, and I cowered, pressing myself into the dirt.

“There’s a trapdoor in the hallway, but the crawl space is open to the street through any of the vents.” Their voices grew distant as they moved away. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kalamack,” Jim was saying. “We’ve never had an escapee before. I’ll get someone to go down there right away.”

“No. She’s gone.” His voice held a controlled, soft frustration, and I felt a stir of victory. Jonathan wasn’t going to have a very pleasant drive back. I straightened from my crouch and heaved a sigh. My ear and eyes were burning. I wanted to go home.

Baron squeaked for my attention, pointing to the ground. I looked to find he had written in careful letters, “Thanks.”

I couldn’t help my smile. Crouched beside him, I wrote, “You’re welcome.” My letters looked sloppy next to his.

“You two are
so sweet,
” Jenks mocked. “Can we get out of here now?”

Baron leapt to the screen across the vent, latching on with all four feet. Choosing carefully, he began to pull at the seams with his teeth.

M
y spoon scraped the bottom of the cottage cheese container. Hunching over it, I pushed what remained into a pile. My knee was cold, and I tugged my midnight-blue, terry-cloth robe back over it. I was stuffing my face while Baron changed back into a person and showered in the second bathroom Ivy and I had independently determined was mine. I could hardly wait to see what he really looked like. Ivy and I agreed that if he had survived the rat fights for who knew how long, he had to be a hunk. God knew he was brave, chivalrous, and not fazed by vampires—the last one being the most intriguing, seeing as Jenks had said he was human.

Jenks had called Ivy collect from the first phone we found. The sound of her motorcycle—just out of the shop from her having slid it under a truck last week—had been like a choir singing. I almost cried at her concern when she swung from the seat wearing head-to-toe biker leather. Someone cared if I lived or died. It didn’t matter if it was a vampire whose motives I still didn’t understand.

Neither Baron or I would get into the box she had brought, and after a five-minute discussion consisting of her protests and our squeaks, she finally threw the box into the back of the alley with a grunt of frustration and let us ride up front. She hadn’t been in the best of moods when she tooled on out of the alley, a mink and a rat standing on her gas tank with our forepaws on the tiny dash. By the time we cleared the worst of Friday rush-hour traffic and were able to pick up speed, I knew why dogs hung their heads out the window.

Riding a bike was always a thrill, but as a rodent, it was a scent-ual rush. Eyes squinting and my whiskers bent back by the wind, I rode home in style. I didn’t care that Ivy was getting odd looks and people kept blowing their horns at us. I was sure I was going to have a brain orgasm from the overload of input. I almost regretted it when Ivy had turned onto our street.

Now, with a finger, I pushed the last bit of cheese onto the spoon, ignoring Jenks’s pig noises from the ladle hanging over the center island. I hadn’t stopped eating since losing my fur, but as I’d had only carrots for the last three and a half days, I was entitled to a little binge.

Setting the empty container aside on the dirty plate before me, I wondered if it hurt more or less to transform if you were a human. From the muffled, masculine groan of pain that had emanated from the bathroom before the shower started, I’d say it hurt just about the same.

Though I had scrubbed myself twice, I thought I still smelled mink under my perfume. My torn ear throbbed, my neck had red-rimmed punctures where Baron had bitten me, and my left leg was bruised from falling into the exercise wheel. But it was good to be a person again. I glanced at Ivy doing the dishes, wondering if I should have taped up my ear.

I still hadn’t brought Ivy and Jenks entirely up to speed on my last few days, telling them only about my captivity, not what I had learned during it. Ivy had said nothing, but I knew she was dying to tell me I had been an idiot for not having a backup plan for escape.

She reached for the tap, turning it off after she rinsed the last glass. Setting it to drain, she turned and dried her hands on the dish towel. Seeing a tall, thin, leather-clad vamp doing dishes was almost worth the price of admission to my crazy life. “Okay, let me get this straight,” she said as she leaned against the counter. “Trent caught you red-handed, and instead of turning you in, he put you in the city’s rat fights to try and break you so you’d agree to work for him?”

“Yup.” I stretched to reach the bag of frosted cookies next to Ivy’s computer.

“Figures.” She pushed herself into motion to get my empty plate. Washing it, she set it next to the glasses to drip. Apart from my dishes, there had been no plates, silverware, or bowls. Just twenty or so glasses, all with a drop of orange juice in the bottom.

“Next time you go up against someone like Trent, can we at least have a plan for when you get caught?” she asked, her back to me and her shoulders tense.

Annoyance pulled my head up from my bag of cookies. I took a breath to tell her she could take her plans and use them for toilet paper, then hesitated. Her shoulders were as tight as her stance was rigid. I remembered how worried Jenks said she was, and what she had said about how me flying off the handle jerked her instincts into play. Slowly my breath slipped out. “Sure,” I said hesitantly. “We can have a fail-safe plan for when I screw up, as long as we have one for you, too.”

Jenks snickered and Ivy flicked a glance at him. “We don’t need one for me,” she said.

“Write it out and post it by the phone,” I said casually. “I’ll do the same.” I was halfway kidding, but I wondered if in all her anal-retentive glory she just might do it.

Saying nothing, Ivy, not content to let the glasses and plates drain by themselves, began to dry them. I crunched my gingersnaps, watching her shoulders ease and her motions lose their hair-trigger quickness. “You were right,” I said, thinking I owed her at least that much. “I’ve never had anyone I could count on before….” I hesitated. “I’m not used to it.”

Ivy turned, surprising me with the relief in her stance. “Hey, don’t sweat it.”

“Oh, save me,” Jenks said from the utensils rack. “I think I’m going to puke.”

Ivy snapped her towel at him, her lips quirked in a wry smile I watched her closely as she went back to drying. Keeping calm and compromising made all the difference. Now that I thought about it, compromising had been how we got through our year working together. It was harder, though, to keep my cool when I was surrounded by all her stuff and none of mine. I had felt vulnerable and on edge.

“You should have seen her, Rachel,” Jenks said in a loud, conspiratorial whisper. “Sitting day and night at her maps to find a way to get you free from Trent. I told her all we had to do was keep watch and help if we could.”

“Shut up, Jenks.” Ivy’s voice was suddenly thick with warning. I shoved the last cookie in my mouth and rose to throw the bag away.

“She had this grandiose plan,” Jenks said. “She swept it up from the floor when you were showering. She was going to call in all her favors. She even talked to her mother.”

“I’m going to get a cat,” Ivy said tightly. “A big, black cat.”

I pulled the bag of bread from the counter and dug the honey out from the back of the pantry, where I had hidden it from Jenks. Taking it all to the table, I sat and arranged everything.

“Good thing you escaped when you did,” Jenks said, swinging the ladle to send gleams of light about the kitchen. “Ivy was about to throw what little she has left after you—again.”

“I will call my cat Pixy Dust,” Ivy said. “I will keep it in the garden and not feed it.”

My gaze shifted from Jenks’s suddenly closed mouth to Ivy. We had just had a warm and fuzzy discussion without getting bit, vampy, or scared. Why did Jenks have to ruin it? “Jenks,” I said with a sigh. “Don’t you have something to do?”

“No.” He dropped down, extending a hand into the stream of honey I was drizzling on a piece of bread. He sank an inch from the weight, then rose. “So, you gonna keep him?”

I looked blankly at Jenks, and he laughed.

“Your new bo-o-o-oyfriend,” he drawled.

My lips pursed at the amusement in Ivy’s eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Jenks hovered over the open jar of honey, pulling glistening strands up and into his mouth. “I saw you with him on that bike,” he said. “Um, this is good.” He took another handful, his wings starting to hum audibly. “Your tails were touching,” he mocked.

Annoyed, I flicked my hand at him. He darted out of reach, then back. “You should have seen them, Ivy. Rolling around on the floor, biting each other.” He laughed, and it turned into a high-pitched giggle. I slowly tilted my head as he listed to the left. “It was love at first bite.”

Ivy turned. “He bit you on the neck?” she said, deadpan serious but for her eyes. “Oh, then it’s got to be love. She won’t let
me
bite her neck.”

What was this? Pick on Rachel night? Not entirely comfortable, I pulled another piece of bread out to finish my sandwich and waved Jenks off the honey. He bobbed and weaved erratically, struggling to maintain an even flight as the sugar rush made him drunk.

“Hey, Ivy,” Jenks said as he drifted sideways and licked his fingers. “You know what they say about the size of a rat’s tail, don’t you? Da longer da tail, da longer his—”

“Shut up!” I cried. The shower went off, and my breath caught. A surge of anticipation brought me up straight in my chair. I flicked a glance at Jenks, giggling-drunk on the honey. “Jenks,” I said, not wanting to subject Baron to an intoxicated pixy. “Leave.”

“Nuh-uh,” he said, scooping up a handful. Peeved, I recapped the jar. Jenks made a small noise of distress, and I waved him up into the hanging utensils. With any luck, he would stay there until he threw off his drunk. That would be about four minutes, tops.

Ivy walked out, muttering about glasses in the living room. The collar of my robe was damp from my hair, and I tugged at it. I wiped the honey from my fingers, fidgeting in what felt like blind date jitters. This was stupid. I’d already met him. We had even had a rodent’s version of a first date: a resounding stint at the gym, a brisk run from people and dogs, even a bike ride through the park. But what do you say to a guy you don’t know who saved your life?

I heard the bathroom door creak open. Ivy jerked to a stop in the hall, her face blank as she stood with two mugs dangling from her fingers. I pulled my robe over my shins, wondering if I should stand up. Baron’s voice eased past her and into the kitchen. “You’re Ivy, right?”

“Um…” Ivy hesitated. “You’re—uh—in my robe,” she finished, and I winced. Great. He had her smell all over him. Nice start.

“Oh. Sorry.” His voice was nice. Kind of resonate and rumbly. I could hardly wait to see him. Ivy seemed positively at a loss for words. Baron took a noisy breath. “I found it on the dryer. There wasn’t anything else to wear. Maybe I should go put on a towel….”

Ivy hesitated. “Um, no,” she said, the unusual sound of amusement in her voice. “You’re all right. You helped Rachel escape?”

“Yeah. Is she in the kitchen?” he questioned.

“Come on in.” Her eyes were rolling as she preceded him into the room. “He’s a geek,” she mouthed, and my face froze.
A geek had saved my life?

“Uh, hi,” he said, standing awkwardly just inside the doorway.

“Hi,” I said, too disconcerted to say more as I ran my gaze over him. Calling him a geek wasn’t fair, but compared to what Ivy was used to dating, he might be.

Baron was as tall as Ivy, but his build was so sparse he seemed taller. The pale arms showing past Ivy’s black robe had the occasional faint scar, presumably from prior rat fights. His cheeks were clean-shaven—I’d have to get a new razor; the one I’d borrowed from Ivy was probably ruined. The rims of his ears were notched. Two puncture marks on either side of his neck stood out red and sore looking. They matched mine, and I felt a flush of embarrassment.

Despite, or maybe because of, his narrow frame he looked nice, kind of bookish. His dark hair was long, and the way he kept brushing it from his eyes led me to think he usually kept it shorter. The robe made him look soft and comfortable, but the way the black silk stretched across his lean muscles kept my eyes roving. Ivy was being overly critical. He had too many muscles to be a geek.

“You have red hair,” he said, shifting into motion. “I thought it would be brown.”

“I thought you were—ah—shorter.” I stood up as he approached, and after an awkward moment, he extended his hand across the corner of the table. Okay, so he wasn’t Arnold Schwarzenegger. But he had saved my life. Maybe somewhere between a short, young Jeff Goldblum and untidy Buckaroo Banzai.

“My name is Nick,” he said as he took my hand. “Well, it’s Nicholas, actually. Thanks for helping me get out of that rat pit.”

“I’m Rachel.” He had a nice grip. Just the right amount of firmness without trying to prove how strong he was. I motioned to one of the kitchen chairs, and we both sat. “And don’t mention it. We kind of helped each other out. You can tell me it’s none of my business, but how on earth did you end up as a rat in the city fights?”

Nick rubbed a thin hand behind an ear and looked at the ceiling. “I—uh—was cataloging a vamp’s private book collection. I found something interesting and made the mistake of taking it home.” He met my eyes with a sheepish expression. “I wasn’t going to keep it.”

Ivy and I exchanged looks.
Just borrowing it. Ri-i-i-i-ight.
But if he had worked with vampires before, that might explain his ease around Ivy.

“He changed me into a rat when he found out,” Nick continued, “then gave me to one of his business associates as a gift. He was the one who put me in the fights, knowing as a human, I’d have the smarts advantage. I made him a lot of money, if nothing else. How about you?” he asked. “How did you get there?

“Um,” I stammered. “I made a spell to turn myself into a mink and got put in the fights by mistake.” It wasn’t really a lie. I hadn’t planned it, so it was an accident. Really.

“You’re a witch?” he said, a smile curving over his face. “Cool. I wasn’t sure.”

A smile crossed me. I’d run into a few humans like him who thought Inderlanders were merely the other side to the humanity coin. Every time it was a surprise and a delight.

“What are those fights?” Ivy asked. “Some sort of crime clearinghouse where you can get rid of people without getting blood on your hands?”

Nick shook his head. “I don’t think so. Rachel was the first person I ran into. And I was there for three months.”

“Three months,” I said, appalled. “You were a rat for three months?”

He shifted in his chair and tightened the tie on his robe. “Yeah. I’m sure all my stuff has been sold to pay my back rent. But hey, I’ve got hands again.” He held them up, and I noticed that though thin, they were heavily callused.

I winced in sympathy. In the Hollows it was standard practice to sell your renter’s things if they disappeared. People went missing all too frequently. He didn’t have a job anymore, either, seeing as he was “fired” from his last one.