For a Few Demons More (36 page)

Jenks gaped at me, face pale. His mouth moved, and he said softly, “I'll check.”

And he was gone.

“Good evening, Jenks,” Ceri said to no one.

The back screen door slammed shut, and Keasley shuffled in. “Let's go.”

I put a hand to my stomach. “I have to call my mother.”

“Do it from the graveyard.” Ceri took my elbow and led me to the back door. Keasley's bent shadow went before us, and I let them drag me out onto the wooden landing and into the night.

The back-porch light was on, and in its uncertain flicker I fumbled for my phone. Piscary's number glowed as the last line called, and in a wash of fear I realized where Ivy was. She hadn't heard about Kisten and me. Piscary had called her to him. This was a setup. Al and Piscary were working together as they had before. Piscary had called, and she had gone to prepare for him—like the scion she was.

“Oh, God,” I whispered, my knees going weak as my bare feet found the cold grass. Ivy was with Piscary. Right now.

“Ivy!” I shouted, spinning to head back to the kitchen and my car keys.

“Rachel, no!” Keasley called. He reached for me, falling into a fit of coughing. I leapt to the stairs, jerking back when Ceri took my shoulder.

“She's a vampire,” the elf said, eyes snapping in the dim light. “It's a trap. A lure. Al and Piscary are working together. You know it's a trap!”

“She's my friend!” I protested.

“Get into the graveyard,” she demanded, pointing as if I were a dog. “We'll deal with this in an orderly fashion.”

“Orderly fashion!” I shot at her. “You know what that monster can do to her? Who do you think you are!” I shouted, pushing her hand off me.

Ceri fell back a step. Then her jaw clenched, and I felt her tap a line.

I stiffened.
She's going to
spell
me?
“Don't you dare!” I exclaimed, shoving her like we were two girls on the playground fighting over a piece of chalk.

Ceri gasped, falling down on her butt, her eyes wide in shock as she looked up at me with her hair all over the place. My face went red in embarrassment. “I'm sorry, Ceri,” I said. “She's my friend, and Piscary will screw her up. I don't care if it's a trap; she needs me.”

The elf gaped at me, all her skills and magic forgotten in her confusion and affront that I had shoved her down. “Keasley,” I said, spinning to find him. “I'll be back—”

My words cut off as I saw him with my cherry red splat gun in his hands. Adrenaline jerked through me, and I froze. “I can't let you knock me down,” he said, the gun's alignment unwavering from my chest.
“I might break something,” he said, then pulled the trigger, as smooth and unhurried as a waltz.

I tensed to run, but the puff of the escaping air shocked me. “Ow!” I yelped as the stinging sensation hit me square in the chest, and I looked down at the slivers of red plastic.

“Damn it, Keasley,” I said, then collapsed, out before my head hit the soft garden soil.

“Is it supposed to take this long?” came Jenks's voice, buzzing as if from behind my eyes. My shoulder hurt, and I shifted my arm, bringing my hand up to touch it. I was soaking wet, and surprise brought me awake.

Taking a lungful of air, I sat up, my eyes flashing open.

“Ho! There she is,” Keasley said, worry in his brown eyes as he backed up and straightened. His leathery face was creased with wrinkles, and he looked cold in his faded cloth coat. The rising sun gave him a hazy glow, and Jenks hovered beside him. Both of them were watching me with concern as I slumped against a tombstone. We were surrounded by pixies, and their giggles sounded like wind chimes.

“You spelled me!” I shouted, and Jenks's kids scattered with squeals. I looked down, realizing it was salt water dripping from my hair, my nose, and my fingers, and pooling in my underwear.
I'm a freaking mess.

Keasley's age-worn expression eased. “I saved your life.” Dropping the plastic five-gallon bucket onto the grass, he extended a hand to help me up.

Avoiding it, I lurched to my feet before the water could seep farther. “Damn it, Keasley,” I swore, shaking my dripping hands and disgusted with myself. “Thanks a helluva lot.”

He snorted, and Jenks landed atop one of the nearby monuments,
the sun glinting prettily through his wings. “‘Thanks a helluva lot,'” he mocked. “What did I tell you? Oblivious, clueless, and bitchy. You should have left her there till noon.”

I tried to wring salt water out of my hair, ticked off. It had been almost eight years since anyone had nailed me like this. My fingers froze, and my attention jerked to the rest of the graveyard, misty and golden in the rising sun. “Where's Ceri?”

Keasley bent painfully to tuck a folding chair under his arm. “At home. Crying.”

Guilt hit me, and I looked at the graveyard's wall as if I could see his house through it. “I'm sorry,” I said, remembering her shocked look when I had shoved her down.
Oh, God, Ivy.

I stiffened as if to run, and Jenks got in my face, rocking me back. “No, Rachel!” he yelled. “This isn't some jackass movie. If you go after Piscary, you're going to be dead! You make one move to leave, I'm gonna pix you, then give you a lobotomy. I ought to pix you anyway, you stupid witch! What the hell is wrong with you?”

My urge to run to my car died. He was right. Keasley was watching me with his hand hidden suspiciously in the wide pocket of his jacket. My eyes rose from it to his face, wrinkled with intelligence. Ceri had once called him a retired warrior. I was way past believing her. He had pulled that trigger last night with too much familiarity. If I was going in to get Ivy away from Piscary, I was going to have to plan it.

Depressed, I crossed my arms and leaned against the grave marker. In the distance was a group of about ten people jumping the stone wall to get off the property. I bristled, then relaxed. It was holy ground, and I hadn't been the only one scared.

“Sorry about last night,” I said. “I wasn't thinking. It's just…” My mind flashed back to Ivy last year, numb as she lay shaking under her covers, telling me how Piscary had raped her mind and body in an effort to convince her to kill me. My face went cold, and I swallowed my fear. “Is Ceri okay?” I managed. I had to get Ivy away from him.

Dark eyes sharp, Keasley harrumphed as if aware I was still teetering. “Yes,” he said, his bent posture shifting to hold his chair more firmly. “She's okay. I've never seen her like this, though. Embarrassed that she tried to stop you using her magic.”

“I shouldn't have shoved her.” Stiffly I retrieved the radio and my
pillow, wet from dew.

“Actually, that was one thing you did right.”

The radio thunked into the empty bucket. “Huh?”

Smirking, Jenks took flight, rising forty feet straight up in the time it took my heart to beat. He was doing a surveillance check, bored with the conversation.

Keasley dropped a coffee-stained thermos into the bucket, groaning as he straightened his back. “You knocked her down because she was going to use magic to stop you. If you had reacted with your magic, too? Now, that would have been scary, but you didn't, showing a control she had forgotten to maintain. She's wallowing in shame right now, poor girl.”

I stared, not having realized it.

“I'm glad you shoved her,” he mused. “She's been getting uppity these last few weeks.”

I tucked a strand of dripping hair behind an ear, cold. “It was still wrong,” I said, and he patted my shoulder to send the scent of cheap coffee over me. My gaze fell to my new red shirt, the cotton holding the salt water like a sponge. Crap. I'd really ruined it now.

Plucking my comforter from where it hung over a tombstone, I gave it a good shake. Dirt and last week's grass clippings flew. It was still warm from having been wrapped about my body, and after draping it over me like a cloak, I squinted in the hazy glare and tried to remember what time the sun rose in July. I was usually asleep at this hour, but I'd been out since midnight. It was going to be a long day.

Yawning, Keasley started to shuffle away with his chair. “I called your mother,” he said, reaching into a pocket and handing me my phone. “She's fine. Things should settle down. The radio said Piscary captured Al in a circle and banished him, freeing Mr. Saladan. The damned vampire is a city hero.”

He shook his graying head, and I agreed.
Freed Lee from Al? Not likely.
I tucked my phone into a pocket, awkward because of the damp fabric. “Thanks,” I said, then met his dubious expression. “They're working together, aren't they? Piscary and Al, I mean,” I said, grabbing everything else and falling into place behind Keasley.

His silvering hair shone in the sun as he nodded. “Seems like a wise assumption.”

A heavy sigh sifted through me. The two of them had a long associa
tion, both knowing that business was business and not caring that it had been Al's testimony that put Piscary away. So now Piscary was out of prison. The city was safe, but I was in trouble. Sounded about right.

I had my pillow under my arm, my blanket draped over my shoulder, and the bucket holding the radio and thermos in my hand. Catching my balance, I said softly, “Thank you for slowing me down last night.” He said nothing, and I added, “I have to get her out of there.”

Keasley set an arthritic hand atop a stone as we passed, halting. “You make one move toward Piscary and I'll plug you with another charm.”

I scowled, and with a toothy grin Keasley handed me my splat gun.

“Ivy is a vampire, Rachel,” the old man said, his mirth evaporating. “Unless you start taking some responsibility, you should accept that she is where she belongs and walk away.”

My posture stiffened, and I tugged my blanket up when it slipped. “Just what in
hell
does that mean?” I snapped, dropping the gun in with the radio.

Keasley, though, smiled, his narrow chest moving as he caught his breath. “Either make your relationship official or let her go.”

Surprised, I stared at him, squinting in the strong morning light. “Excuse me?”

“Vampires have an unbreakable mind-set,” he said, putting an arm over my shoulder and starting us to the gate. “Apart from the master vampires, they physically need to look to someone stronger than them. It's hardwired in, like Weres and their alphas. Ivy looks powerful because there are so few people stronger than she. Piscary's one. You're another.”

My steps, slow to match his, grew even slower. “I can't best him. Despite what I wanted to do last night.” God, it was embarrassing. I deserved to have been downed by my own spell.

“I never said you could beat Piscary,” the old witch said as we helped each other over the uncertain footing of the graveyard. “I said you were stronger than him. You can help Ivy be who she wants, but if she can't let go of her fear and make peace with her needs, she's going to fall back to Piscary. I don't think she's decided yet.”

I felt odd. “How do you figure that?”

His wrinkles deepened. “Because she didn't try to kill you last night.”

My stomach clenched.
How come he can see things so clearly and I'm thicker than a cement wall?
Must go along with the wise-old-man image. “We tried it once,” I said softly, wanting to touch my neck. “She almost killed me. She says the only way she can control her blood lust is if we mixed it with sex. Otherwise she loses control, and I'd have to hurt her to get her to back off. I can't, Keasley. I won't mix the ecstasy of blood-letting with hurting her. It's wrong and sick.”

My pulse had quickened from the foul thought that that's what Piscary did…and what he had turned her into. I knew that my face was red, but Keasley didn't seem shocked when brought his attention up. His brow pinched, he gave me a pitying look. “You're in a spot, aren't you?”

We passed the foot-high wall that divided the graveyard from the backyard. Pixies were everywhere, the sunlight flashing on their wings. This was really uncomfortable, but who else could I talk to? My mom? “So,” I said softly, angling us to the tall gate that led to the street, “you think it's
my
fault she went running to Piscary? Because I can't bring myself to hurt her if she loses control and I won't sleep with her?”

Keasley grunted. “Ivy thinks like a vampire. You should start thinking like a witch.”

“You mean like a charm?” I offered, recalling Ivy's aversion to them, then flushed at the eagerness in my voice. “Maybe one to mute her hunger or calm her without hurting her?”

His head went up and down, and I slowed our pace, seeing him start to labor. “So what are you going to do?” he asked, his hand landing on my shoulder. “I mean today.”

“Plan something out and go get her,” I admitted. I didn't know what to think anymore.

He was silent. Then, “If you try, he'll tighten his grip on her.”

I went to protest, and he pulled me to a stop, facing me. His dark eyes were thick with warning. “You walk in there, and Piscary will make her kill you. Trust her to get herself out. Piscary is her master, but you are her friend, and she still has her soul.”

“Trust her?” I said, shocked he thought I should do nothing. “I can't leave her there. He blood-raped her the last time she said no when he told her to kill me.”

A soft hand on my shoulder pushed us into motion. “Trust her,” he said
simply. “She trusts you.” His chest rose and fell in a sigh. “Rachel, if she walks away from Piscary without someone to assume his protection, the first undead vampire she runs into will use and abuse her.”

“Like Piscary isn't abusing her?” I scoffed.

“She needs protection as much as you do,” he chided. “And if you can't give her that, you shouldn't condemn her for sticking with the only person who can.”

Put that way, it made sense. But I didn't like it. Especially when, if you thought about it, Piscary was protecting me through her.
Oh, swell…

“Give her a reason for her to get herself out and she'll stand with you,” Keasley said as we reached the wooden gate. “You know what that will make her?”

“No,” I said, thinking it made me a coward.

He smiled at my sour expression, then took his thermos out of the bucket. “It will make her into someone no one can manipulate. It's who she wants to be.”

“This is crap,” I said as he lifted the latch and the gate opened. “She needs my help!”

Snorting, Keasley propped the folding chair against the wall and shuffled over the threshold. Past him, the street was quiet and damp with dew. “You've already helped her. You gave her a choice besides Piscary.”

I dropped my eyes. It wasn't enough.
I
wasn't enough. I couldn't protect her against the undead. I couldn't protect myself—thinking I could protect her was ludicrous.

Keasley paused in the threshold. “I'll be honest with you,” he said. “I don't like the idea of same-sex relationships. It doesn't seem right to me, and I'm too old to start thinking different. But I do know you're happy here. From what Jenks tells me, Ivy is, too. Which makes it hard for me to think you're making a mistake or that it's wrong. Whatever you do.”

If I knew the charm to curl up and die, I would have used it. As it was, I watched my feet and moved forward to stand in the gate. Sort of like what I was doing in my life.

“Are you going after Piscary?” he asked suddenly.

Warm under my blanket, I jiggled on my feet. “I want to.”

“Smart decisions, Rachel,” he said with a sigh. “Make smart deci
sions.”

Restlessness filled me as he headed to his tired-looking house a few homes up the street. “Keasley, tell Ceri I'm sorry for pushing her down,” I called after him.

He raised a hand to acknowledge me. “I will.”

Jenks dropped from the tree overhead to land atop the gate, making me think he'd been eavesdropping again. I glanced at him, then yelled to Keasley, “Can I come over later?”

Pausing at the curb to let the minivan belonging to the only human family on the street pass, Keasley smiled to show coffee-stained teeth. “I'll make lunch. Tuna sandwiches okay?”

The minivan beeped, and Keasley returned the driver's wave. I couldn't help my smile. The elderly witch carefully stepped off the curb and started home, head up and eyes scanning.

Jenks rose when the gate thumped shut, and with the splat gun rattling against the radio, I made for the back door. “And where were you when Keasley downed me?” I asked Jenks tartly.

“Right behind him, stupid. Who do you think told him what you stocked your splat gun with?”

There wasn't much I could say to that. “Sorry.” I took the porch steps, juggling everything in my arms to manage the door. Jenks darted in to do a quick run-through of the premises, and, remembering him in his robe last night, I hollered, “Is Matalina okay?”