It was so close to what I was feeling, what I'd felt when I was growing up, that I leaned forward, and with Daryl between us, I gave her a hug. "Thank you," I whispered, my eyes closed as I held her to me. "I needed to remember that. You're very wise."

Daryl slid down and away, squirming to get out from between us, darting to stand nearby, looking uncomfortable, yet pleased to have been included.

"That's what my mom says," the girl said, her eyes wide and serious. "She says the angels want me back so I can teach them about love."

I closed my eyes, but it didn't do any good, and a hot tear slipped down. "I'm sorry," I said as I wiped it away. I'd just broken one of the secret rules. "I've been away too long."

"It's okay," she said. "You're allowed if there aren't any parents around."

My throat closed up, and I held her hand. It was all I could do. Jenks's wings clattered a warning, and all the kids sighed and drew back when he landed on my upraised hand.

"They know where you are," he said.

Ivy, almost forgotten, shifted the chair, rolling it back as she turned to look behind us. "We have to go," she said to the kids.

Instead of the expected complaints, they dutifully dropped away, all looking toward a distant clacking of heels. The king straightened and said, "You want us to slow them down?"

I looked up at Ivy, whose grin transformed her face. "If we get away, I'll tell you two stories next time," she said, and delight showed on every young face.

"Go," the girl in red pajamas said, pulling the king out of the way with the gentle hands of the mother she would never be.

"Let's save the witch princess!" the boy cried, and he ran down the hall. The others fell into place the best they could, some moving fast, others slow, the bright colors of childhood scarred with bald heads and gaits too slow for their enthusiasm.

"I'm going to cry," Jenks said, sniffing as he flew up to Ivy. "I'm going to freaking cry."

Ivy's face, as she watched them, showed a depth of emotion I'd never seen; then she turned away, divorcing herself from it. Lips tight together, she started into motion. I turned to face where we were going, and her brisk steps seemed to carry the desperation that there was nothing she could do to save them.

Jenks flew ahead to get the elevator, holding it by hovering at the sensor. Ivy wheeled me in and around. The doors shut, and the tragic wisdom of the children's wing was gone. I took a breath, and my throat tightened.

"I didn't think you would understand them," Ivy said softly. "They really like you."

"Understand them?" I said raggedly, my throat still holding that lump. "I am them." I hesitated, then asked, "You come here a lot?"

The elevator opened to show a smaller, friendlier lobby with a Christmas tree and solstice decorations, and beyond, a big black Hummer burning gas at the snowy curb. "About once a week," she said, pushing me forward.

Jenks was humming happily about a horse with no name. The lady at the desk was on the phone, eyeing us, but my worry vanished when she waved, telling whoever she was talking to that the lobby was empty. Just her and Dan.

Dan was a young man in an orderly's smock, and he opened the door for us with a grin. "Hurry," he said as Jenks dived into my jacket and I zipped it up. "They're right behind you."

Ivy smiled. "Thanks, Dan. I'll bring you some ice cream."

Dan grinned. "You do that. I'll just tell them you hit me."

She laughed, and with that pleasant sound in my ears, we left the hospital.

It was bitterly cold, but the doors to the Hummer swung open, and two living vamps jumped out. "Uh, Ivy, that's not Erica," I said when they made a beeline for us. They were in black jeans and matching black T-shirts that all but screamed security, and I tensed.

"Erica's got people," Ivy said when Erica slid down and out from the backseat. Ivy's sister looked like a younger version of Ivy without all the emotional baggage: bright, happy, and active. Piscary had never looked her way due to Ivy intentionally distracting him, and the young living vamp was innocence where Ivy was jaded, loud where Ivy was reserved, and Ivy would do anything to keep it that way, even sacrificing herself.

"Oh my God!" the young woman squealed. "You're really breaking out of the hospital? Ivy called, and I was like, oh my God! Of course I'll pick you up. Then Rynn offered to drive, and it was a no-brainer. I mean, who wants to be picked up in their mom's station wagon?"

"Rynn Cormel is here?" I murmured, suddenly on edge, then started when the two burly living vamps in black jeans and matching T-shirts made a chair of their arms around me and I was airborne. The cold didn't seem to affect them, which seemed unfair. Old scars made an ugly mass on the neck of one man, but the other had only one, and it was relatively old.

"What happened to your mom's sedan?" I asked Ivy, and Erica fidgeted with the collar of her coat, her narrow-tipped boots marking the snow.

"A tree hit it," Erica said. "Totally totaled it. Not my fault. It was squirrel karma."

Squirrel karma?

"I'll tell you later," Ivy said as she leaned close. The intoxicating mix of vampire incense and male warmth was thick around me, and it was almost a disappointment when the two guys eased me into the back and let go. I didn't recognize them; they weren't Piscary's old crew.

"Are you okay?" I asked Erica as she slid in beside me with the scent of citrus.

"Oh, sure, but Mom almost died twice."

Ivy had gotten into the front seat, and looking remarkably relaxed, she leaned over the back. "The only person who almost died twice was you," she said to her sister, and Erica played with the thin strips of black leather dangling from her ears. She was still going Goth, complete with peekaboo lace at the neck and little tomatoes dangling among the skull and crossbones on her necklace. I wondered what she was doing with Rynn Cormel, as he was very much the sophisticate, but Ivy didn't seem worried, and Erica was as bright as ever.

There was a folded newspaper on the seat, but my sigh at the picture of the mall turned into a frown when I read, WITCH FLEES CIRCLE MALL, CAUSE OF RIOT? Isn't that nice…

"Are we all in?" came a rusty New York accent from my left, and I jumped, not having noticed Rynn Cormel in the corner. Holy crap, the attractively aged, former political leader was right next to me, and God, he smelled good. His power-colored tie was loosened and his hair was tousled, as if Erica had been in it. Smiling his world-famous, world-changing smile, which showed the barest hint of fang, he folded the newspaper and tucked it away. Shifting his eyes to the driver through the rearview mirror, he silently told her to go.

The door to my right slammed shut, and I was shoved closer to the undead vampire, making my pulse race. Ivy pushed to the middle in the front seat, and the other vamp got in beside her. With the thump of the closing door, alarm hit me. I was in a car with one dead vamp and five living ones. It was starting to smell really good in here. And if I liked what it smelled like, then they were liking what they were smelling, and ah…that would be me.

"Uh," I stammered when we crept into motion, and Rynn Cormel laughed with the practiced art of diplomacy.

"You are the last person who needs to fear anything from me, Ms. Morgan," he said, his eyes a safe brown in the streetlights. "I have other plans for you."

It might have sounded like a threat, but I knew what his plans were, and it didn't involve his teeth in my neck. Just the opposite, actually. "Yeah, but still," I protested when Erica shoved me over even more, thinking it was great fun by the amount of giggling and jumping she was doing. She was in black tights and a miniskirt, and not showing even a hint of being cold.