"You have hurt me," she said, arms around her drawn-up knees and her chin high. "You will again. I don't care. That's the sick part. That's why I don't touch you anymore. I'm addicted to your little white lies. I want love, but I can't live with myself if I make you hurt me again. I don't want pain to feel like love. It's not supposed to."

The memory of Farcus playing on my scar lifted through me. Too close. He'd been too close. Used me like a match to light his own libido. Pain turned to pleasure—was it truly perverted if it really felt good? "I'm sorry, Ivy. I can't give any more," I whispered.

Ivy turned to the window, shifting the curtain to look outside. "I'm not asking you to, scaredy-cat," she said mildly, and I saw the signs as she closed her emotions down again. "Don't worry. I like things the way they are. I didn't tell you this to guilt you into anything; I just thought you ought to know why Mia Harbor has a husband who is immune to a banshee's attack. I gave her the wish because I owed her. She gave me the courage to fight for what I wanted. Whether I get it or not is immaterial. The only way I could thank her was to give her the chance to love. And I think she loves him. As much as a banshee can."

My hands were clenched on my arms with enough strength to cramp them, and I let go. "She loves a freaking serial killer," I said, glad the conversation had swung away from us.

Ivy smiled wanly in the streetlight. Her hand dropped from the curtain, and the shadow hid her face again. "That doesn't make it any less. Holly isn't special. Remus is. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have given it to her. I had no idea she'd use it to kill people. For all her strength, she's a monster. I owe her, but I'm still going to bring her in."

Standing, I reached out to draw her to her feet, wanting to hug her so she'd lose that awful stiffness. "Don't worry about it. You didn't know what she was going to do. No good deed and all."

"It's still my fault."

My hand touched her shoulder, and I drew back when Jenks shot under the door in a glittering of silver sparkles that left a steady stream behind as he rose up to our height. "Glenn's in the hall," he said, unusually bright-eyed in the dim room.

"Good," I said faintly, turning to get my bag. My face was warm, and I put a hand to it.

"Uh," the pixy said, hovering uncertainly in the dark. "Did I miss something?"

Ivy took my bag from me, having to jerk it free. "No," she said, then turned to me. "Stay here and I'll get you a chair."

"No you won't." She had confused me, and I didn't know how to stop her from pushing me around right now. "A chair wasn't in the plan," I added. "I can walk it."

"You're wobbling on your feet," Ivy said, and I shook my head. This was a decision I was going to stick with.

"I can't sneak out in a wheelchair," I said, eyes on the ground until I was sure it wasn't tilting. "I have to walk. Really, really slowly."

Jenks hovered before us, looking like Lawrence of Arabia with wings. "No way, Rache," he started, his eyes crinkled in worry. "You're as strong as a fairy's hard-on."

"I can make it," I breathed, hesitated, then shook my head. Nice one, Jenks. My head was down as I started for the door, and my thoughts were on my laundry list: Bargain with Al for the time off; reconstruct the charm to give Pierce temporary substance; remind Marshal that we weren't going to move our relationship along simply because one, I'd gotten hurt, two, he'd beaten Tom, and three, we'd had a nice dinner with my family. I also had to try making that locator charm again, not to mention, to get a lead on Kisten's killer, look through the records to track down everyone Piscary had bled or bedded during his jail time. I could do it. I could do it all. How am I going to do this?

Jenks was flying backward in front of me as I moved from couch, to bed, to wardrobe, gauging my aura, no doubt. It was irritating to say the least. "Tell Glenn we're on our way?" I asked, slapping at Ivy when she threatened to help me inch along.

"Already did." Jenks landed on my shoulder, puffing from the constant weight of his clothes. "You owe him big, Rachel. He was scheduled to be released tomorrow."

I clutched my bag and looked at Ivy, squashing my guilt. "Then let's go."

Ivy nodded. Touching my shoulder once, she headed out. "See you in the elevator, Rache," Jenks said, then darted out before the oversize door swung shut behind her.

Alone, I let myself lean against the wall, exhausted. I was breathing heavy and moving slow. That wasn't a problem. I could do this. I had done this lots of times, actually, with my mom when I wanted to go home and the AMA hadn't come in yet.

Sneaking out of the hospital is like riding a bike, I thought as I listened to Ivy talking to the nurse at the desk. Then I remembered that I'd never learned to ride a bike either.

"Elevator," I whispered, cementing it as my goal. I could rest there. Ride up and down until I felt like walking out. I waited by the almost-closed door, eavesdropping. It was about midnight, and since I was on a human floor, it was quiet. Perfect.

"Get a nurse!" someone shouted, and I heard a clang as something hit a wall. Jenks started shrieking, and I edged forward to peek through the crack in the door. There was a distant masculine groan, and a heavy orderly rushed past, his dreadlocks swinging.

I eased the door open with my weight, shivering when it felt like the varnished wood was stealing the heat from me right through my coat. I looked to the right, following the sound of the commotion, smiling at Glenn, on the floor at the end of the hall. Ivy was there with Jenks, two orderlies, and a nurse. The guy who delivered the food was there, too.

As I watched, Glenn groaned convincingly, cracking an eye to see me. I gave him a bunny-eared, kiss-kiss, and he flipped me off, turning his smile into a pained moan. Jenks was right; I owed him big.

Pulse racing, I hobbled to the elevator around the corner. I didn't even have to go by the nurses' desk. My pace slowly became more sure and my posture upright, while fighting the fatigue and mild sensation of walking in deep snow and trying to look as if I was sedate, not sedated.

I turned the corner, and the noise behind me grew faint. The hallway was empty, but I didn't dare use the waist-high handrail. Besides, the elevator was just ahead. I pushed the button, then pushed it again until the light went on.

Almost immediately the doors opened, and my heart jumped when a couple stepped out. They gave me a cursory glance, then perked up at the noise Glenn was making. Curiosity was winning when I staggered to the back of the lift and propped myself up in the corner, my bag clutched to me. The more quickly I moved, the worse I felt. Which really stunk, seeing as I was in a turtle's footrace for the door.

I took shallow breaths and stared at the couple's backs as the doors slid shut. Jenks. Where are you? You said you'd be here.

The pixy darted in at the last moment, nearly crashing into the back of the elevator.

"Rache!" he said in excitement, and vertigo hit me when I flung my hands over my ears.

"Not so loud!" I exclaimed, and he dropped to hover at eye level.

"Sorry," he said, looking anything but. He followed my weary gaze to the dark panel, then flew at it, hitting the button for the next level down feet first. I heard the whine of electronics click over, and we started to descend.

"Glenn is good," he said as he returned to land on my shoulder. "I don't think they'll know you're gone until they get someone to take him back to his room."

"Excellent." I closed my eyes against the vertigo. I'd been afraid the elevator might move too fast to stomach, but I couldn't take the stairs even if my aura was dragging behind me as we descended.

"You doin' okay?" he asked, worry thick in his tone.