Ellasbeth's painted lips were pressed tight. A veil would have been nice, I thought, then mused disparagingly upon my own makeup, slapped on almost at the last minute. Green eyes vehement, she took Trent's arm and turned her back on me, shoulders trembling. The holy guy cleared his throat and started in where he had left off, talking about devotion, understanding, and forgiveness. I tuned him out. I had to get my pulse down; I might be here a while.

The cathedral was beautiful, the scent of Queen Anne's lace faint in the closed air. Flowers decked every available flat surface and a few vertical ones, with little bouquets pinned to ribbons. There were exotic vines, and lilies, but it was the simpler blooms I liked the best. The world-renowned stained-glass windows were muted from the fog and moonlight, and the shadows of the nearby trees moved against them in the breeze like dragons circling. The candlelight flickered, and the smooth voice of the holy guy was like dust given resonance.

I blinked when I realized Al was making eyes at me from across the couple-to-be. Beside him Quen was scowling. They were in marvelous black tuxes that looked like dress uniforms from a classic eighties space opera. Nervous, I adjusted my dress. I'd gotten a spot on it somewhere, and I wished I had a bouquet to hide it with, but that's what you get when you're late.

I turned my attention to the audience to find Jenks's twinkle in the rafters. He was dusting heavily, and Takata sneezed in the artificial sunbeam he was making.

"Bless you," I mouthed to him, and his bushy eyebrows rose. The middle-aged rock star looked worried, but the scarred Were woman beside him—Ripley, his drummer—was clearly amused. Thank God Takata was in a suit instead of the orange monstrosity he'd been wearing the one time I'd seen him. He even had his blond tangle of curls in order, and I could see the charm about his neck that did it.

Glancing over the congregation, he mouthed back, "What are you doing?"

"Working," I said without a sound.

I glanced at Mr. Ray and Mrs. Sarong behind him. They look like little kids plotting. I wouldn't worry about it. It would be over soon.

Finally I grew brave and looked at Ivy. Fear slid through me. She was numb. Blank and empty. I'd seen that look on her before, but never this deep. She had shut herself down. Beautiful in her elegant gray dress and a wide-brimmed hat, she looked remarkably like her mother, a pew behind her. She sat stiffly between Skimmer and Piscary. The blond living vampire glared at me jealously, clearly part of Piscary's camarilla now despite the little detail that the city had let Piscary out because of Al, not her skills in the courtroom. I had to believe Ivy would be all right. I couldn't rescue her. She had to save herself.

Seeing my pain at Ivy's state, Piscary smiled at me, mocking and confident. My breath hissed in when my demon scar sent a surge of tingling sensation through me. Damn it, I hadn't counted on that. Ticked, I mouthed at him, "I want to talk to you."

Piscary inclined his head, looking fabulous in some authentic outfit from Egypt. Apparently thinking I wanted to discuss Ivy, he lifted her slack hand and kissed the top of it.

I stiffened, suddenly realizing that Trent was watching me out of the corner of his eye. Actually, the entire church was paying more attention to me and Piscary than the couple on the stage. If Ellasbeth's clenched jaw was any indication, she was pissed.

Grimacing, I tried to find a kick-ass posture while wearing a lace dress and flowers in my hair. "Not Ivy," I mouthed. "I want your protection. Both me and Kisten. I'll make it worth your while."

Piscary seemed confused at my request, but he nodded, deep in thought. Al's amused grin went sour, and behind Takata, Mr. Ray and Mrs. Sarong started talking in hushed voices that every Inderlander could probably catch. Skimmer's satisfaction turned to hatred, and Ellasbeth… Ellasbeth was gripping Trent's arm hard enough to make her knuckles white.

The tinkling sounds of someone's phone burst rudely out into the solemn cadence of the holy guy's speech, and my eyes widened. It was coming from… me?

Oh, my God! I thought, mortified as I jammed my fingers down my cleavage, scrambling. It was my phone. Damn it, Jenks! I thought, glaring at the ceiling as "Nice Day for a White Wedding" played out. I had put it on vibrate. Damn it, I had put it on vibrate!

Face flaming, I finally fished the thing out. Jenks was laughing from the upper windows, and Takata had his head in his hands, clearly trying not to laugh. A nervous titter went through the church, and I looked at the incoming number. Glenn. Adrenaline hit me.

"Excuse me," I said, really excited. "I am so sorry. I had it on vibrate. Really."

Takata laughed outright, and I reddened upon remembering where I'd fished it out from.

"Ah, I have to take this," I said. Ellasbeth was furious, and when the holy guy gestured sourly for me to go ahead, I flipped it open and turned my back on everyone. "Hi," I said softly, and my voice echoed. "I'm at the Kalamack wedding. Everyone's listening. Whatcha got?" Crap, could this get any more awkward?

There was a crackle of static telling me Glenn was still on the road, and he said, "You're at his wedding? Rachel, you're one crazy-ass witch."

I halfway turned and shrugged at the holy guy. "Sorry," I mouthed, but inside I was running full out. At least Glenn had gotten my unspoken reference to people being able to hear him and would word his responses carefully.

"I've got the paperwork," Glenn said, and my tension spiked. "You can go to work."

I shifted my weight to feel the comforting bump of my splat gun, hoping I wouldn't need it. "Hey, uh, Jenks never said how much you're going to give me for this."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Rachel, I'm on the interstate. Can we discuss this later?"

"Later gets me nothing," I said, and the congregation started to stir.

Trent cleared his throat, the anger of a thousand desert sunrises in it, and I shot him a look. Behind him Quen was starting to look suspicious. I wasn't going to get my fee out of them after pulling this little stunt, and I wanted something to show apart from my satisfaction of tagging Trent.

"I want your department to get my church resanctified," I said, and a ripple of surprise shifted through the people. Nothing like waving your dirty laundry in front of Cincinnati's finest. Piscary especially looked interested. This had better work, or I was dead tomorrow.

"Rachel…" Glenn started.

"Oh, never mind," I said nastily. "I'll do this pro bono, like I always do for the FIB." Like everyone didn't know who I was talking to by now? My back was to the pews, but Jenks was watching, and I felt reasonably safe.

"I'm calling you some backup," Glenn said, and I put a hand to my forehead.

"Good," I said, around an exhale. "I don't want to haul my tag in on the bus." I heard Glenn take a breath to say something, and, catching Trent shifting from the corner of my eye, I blurted, "Thanks, Glenn. Hey, if this doesn't work out—"

"You want red roses on your grave, right?"

That wasn't it, but he had hung up. Closing the phone, I hesitated, then dropped it back down my front as I turned.

Trent was not happy. "That was a fascinating look into your life, Ms. Morgan. Do you do children's parties, too?"

Nervousness rose in me, quickly followed by a spike of adrenaline. It lit through me, almost as good as sex. My thoughts zinged back to Ivy telling me I lived my life making decisions that would put me in dangerous situations just to feel the rush. An adrenaline junkie, but at least I was making money at it. Usually.

Ivy. She was staring at me, a glimmer of fear marring her deep blankness. "Jenks?" I said loudly, and when he chirped his wings, Quen tensed.