I stared at the vacant space, ticked—not because I had come in here searching for my bag and forgetting that the room was empty but because he looked scared. He ought to be. "Why didn't you wake me up?" I exclaimed, tucking my shirt in as he spilled dust coated with chimney soot. "Kisten was alone all night, and he's not answering his phone!"

"Are you okay?" he asked, coming too close, and I pulled back, my neck protesting.

"Apart from falling asleep in the middle of my bloody day and leaving Kisten alone, yeah," I said sarcastically, weight on one foot. "Why didn't you wake me? "

Jenks's wings dropped in pitch, and he landed on the mantel. "He called. After you fell asleep. Said he was moving underground to lessen the chance that anyone would hurt you to get to him. You needed the sleep," he said, sounding eerily relieved. "And besides, Piscary might not think the focus is worth you and Kisten both." His features tightened, and he couldn't seem to keep his wings from moving.

My urge to race to Nick's apartment slid into a general worry, and I focused on Jenks standing nervously on the fireplace. Kisten went underground without telling me? "He called before sundown?" I asked. I didn't want to feel guilty that my not being there forced him out into the open. Jenks shrugged, and I muttered, "Why didn't you wake me up?"

Jenks reached to clean the soot from his wings like a tiny cat. His distress clear, he said. "You needed the sleep. Kisten going underground was the best thing for everyone."

"Yeah?" I shot back sourly. "If he's not careful, he's going to be permanently underground." Frowning, I headed back to the kitchen and some coffee. He went into hiding? In what? A towel and a smile? And what was it with this human time clock I was on anyway?

Jenks took to the air to follow me. "Rache, Kisten was right. I wouldn't want you there either whenever whoever Piscary gave Kisten to finds him."

"Why? Because I might save his ass?" I exclaimed, frustrated as I stood in the sun and dumped out yesterday's coffee. It was a painful reminder that Ivy was gone; she'd never let the coffee sit like that. My arm hurt, and I held it as I ran the water to rinse out the pot. "Damn it, Jenks! Letting a vampire drain someone to death as a thank-you is twisted and sick! Especially when the person being murdered thinks it's acceptable. Piscary is an animal! You think I like that he's the only one I can go to for protection? You think I like giving the focus to him? If I thought he'd do anything other than stick it into hiding, I'd give it to someone else. But I won't let Kisten die."

Jenks's wings drooped as he landed beside Mr. Fish, the sun shining through them to make sparkles on my hands. Feeling like an ass for my outburst, I put cold water in the pot and wiped it dry with a hand towel. "Sorry," I said, knowing that this animal was my best long-term insurance to stay alive. How did I get here? Depressed, I pushed the coffeepot away, not feeling up to making coffee anymore. "Kisten must think I'm a boob for falling asleep," I muttered.

"He knew you were tired." His brow was creased, and he sounded almost bitter. "Don't worry about him. Kisten probably has plans you don't even know about." Jenks lifted into the air and gave himself a shake to sift the last of the soot into the sink. "Besides, I've got some news that's going to make you piss your pants."

I didn't want to hear whatever gossip he had dug up, and I held my upper arm and tried to remember where I had left my shoulder bag. I had to talk to Kisten. Damn it, this wasn't fair. He was running away like an old cat to die in the woods. That was the terrifying part—that he accepted his murder willingly. Like he deserved to be treated like a thing.

"Listen to me," Jenks said with a false eagerness as he got in front of me. "You're not going to believe who called this morning."

I felt funny, standing in my sun-drenched kitchen with Jenks hovering close—too close—while I tried to remember where I had left my bag. My hand had crept up to my neck, and I forced it down. I was getting the oddest feeling—like I should have a string around my finger or something. Confused, I focused on Jenks. "Kisten isn't answering his phone. Where is he?"

"Tink's titties, Rache!" he exclaimed, his wings clattering. "Get off it! Let the man be a man. Besides, if you call or go see him, they'll find him that much sooner."

I slumped against the sink, stymied. There was that. My car was well known, and I wasn't about to take the bus and risk getting stranded somewhere. Giving up on finding my bag, I headed into the bathroom as a mildly pressing need grew worse. "Are you sure he's okay?" I asked, rubbing my arm through Jenks's shirt. That was the last time I was going to sleep in Ivy's chair. It was harder than it looked.

"Trust me." Jenks followed me in with a soft, almost subliminal hum. "Going to see him won't help him at all. Make everything worse. Let it go, Rache."

It was excellent advice—though not any I wanted to take—and I sourly stared at Jenks, standing on the washer lid with his feet spread and his hands on his hips. I had to use the bathroom, but he looked immovable. "Do you mind?" I said, and he sat down, his wings stilling.

I couldn't make him leave, and I wasn't going to use the can with him sitting there, so I grabbed my toothbrush. My mouth tasted like dead weeds, and I put an extra glop of minty toothpaste on the brush. "You know where he is, don't you?" I accused while I leaned over the sink to check out my perfect teeth, and when Jenks flushed, I continued, "He left without his clothes? He went to a girlfriend's house, didn't he? Someone who doesn't have any ties to Piscary."

Jenks said nothing, avoiding my gaze—and looking really, really guilty. I knew that Kisten had someone he was tapping for blood, and the fact that whoever it was might willingly defy Piscary if worse came to worst was a guilty relief. Besides, a vampire chick was probably tougher than me in a pitched fight. As long as she didn't hand him over. If she does, I'm going to freaking kill her, I thought in a pang of angst, then prayed I'd never have to make that decision.

"How long until you can get yourself cleaned up?" Jenks said, and I made a telling face.

"Ah 'ot 'icker if 'ou weren't in 'ere," I said around the foam, ticked off that Jenks knew where Kisten was and I didn't. If I really pressed him, Jenks would tell me. Probably even come with me to keep my ass above the grass when the bad guys followed me to Kisten's hideout. Crap on toast, I don't like feeling this helpless.

Jenks's wings blurred. "Glenn called," he said, as if it were a great honor.

Whoop-deee-freaking-do. "Mmmm?" I prompted around the toothbrush. My hair was down about my shoulders, and I frowned as I brushed my teeth. Jenks's kids' work usually had to be picked apart, but this braid was completely gone. I winced when my toothbrush hit my inner lip. Bending over the sink, I spit, eyes widening at the thread of pink in with the paste.

"What does Glenn want?" I asked as I leaned to the mirror and curled my lower lip down to see a red line. When did I do that? "More Tabasco sauce?"

"He's got a warrant," Jenks said, hovering so close that I had to back up until there were twin images of nervous pixy between me and my reflection. "Or he will soon."

Okay, Now I was interested. "For who?" I rinsed and spit, glad there was no more blood.

Jenks grinned, looking relieved. "For Trent."

My head jerked up. "What!" I shouted. "He did it? Glenn got a warrant? Why didn't you tell me!"

Silver dust slipped from Jenks, and he returned to the washer. "He has the verbal okay, and he's on his way to the FIB's headquarters in Detroit to get the original paperwork. That's why I let you sleep. He doesn't want you to do anything until he has the papers in his hand. Hours yet. You need any help in the kitchen?"