"Drive slowly," Ivy demanded. "She gets dizzy if you go too fast."

My focus became distant, and I suddenly realized there was only the barest hint of vertigo running through me, and we were going a lot faster than an elevator. "I'm fine," I said softly, and Ivy turned to look at me in surprise when we drove sedately under a streetlamp. I nodded, and she turned back around.

"Thanks, Ivy. Thank you, Jenks," I said as we slowed, then pulled onto the road.

"That's what we're here for," came Jenks's muffled response. "Now how about a little air?" and I unzipped my coat until he yelled that it was enough.

Remembering the kids, I leaned over to look up at the tall building behind us, knowing exactly where to look. Clustered at the wide plate-glass windows three stories up were five faces pressed against the glass. I waved, and one waved back. Happy, I settled into the seat of Rynn Cormel's car, promising myself I would come back and bring them my old tea set. Or maybe my stuffed animals. And ice cream.

"Thanks for picking us up, Mr. Cormel," I said, and the vampire breathed deep. The almost inaudible sound seemed to dive to my middle and pluck a long-silent chord. Warmth flooded me, and I found myself gazing at nothing, completely relaxed, just existing in the hint of promise he was giving off. It wasn't anything like the lame groping of the young undead vampire at the mall, and Ivy's neck stiffened.

Rynn Cormel leaned over to touch her shoulder. "It was my pleasure," he said to me, but his fingers were on Ivy. "I was on my way to visit you, actually. I have some information."

Ivy's eyes were pupil black when she turned to see us. "You know who killed Kisten?"

I held my breath, but the man shook his head. "I know who didn't."

Fifteen

The atmosphere in the Hummer shifted dramatically after Erica was dropped off at work. Relieved, I watched the happy vampire wave good-bye, then flounce into the computer-security firm, the armed doorman holding the door for her and giving us a short nod. She acted like an airhead, she talked like an airhead, she dressed like a wealthy airhead, but there was a brain attached to the elaborate Goth costume and bright outlook. And unlike Ivy, Erica's outward demeanor wasn't a mask for a deeper depression.

"Good God," one of Cormel's security guys muttered as we started off again. "That girl doesn't shut up."

I normally would have come back with something about women having to make up for men's inabilities in that area, but he was right. If Erica was awake, she was flapping her lip.

Shoulders relaxing, I eased into the leather to enjoy the space Erica had left. It was warm, and the vampire pheromones were building. It'd been a while since I'd been exposed to this much. My association with vamps had fallen drastically after Kisten died.

A faint alarm took root, and my eyes opened. I didn't want to get caught up with vampires again, as pleasant as that had been—as this was. It was a slow decline into passivity. It would kill me slowly or force me to react explosively. I knew it. Ivy knew it. Perhaps Kisten's death had been a blessing, as hard it had been. I couldn't say he was bad for me—he had strengthened me where I hadn't known I was weak, taught me a culture one had to learn by experience. His death broke my heart, my ignorance, and saved me from myself…and I didn't want it to be made meaningless by ignoring what he'd taught me.

Bittersweet memories swirled, and I sat up to put my bag firmly on my lap. Beside me, the elegant Rynn Cormel touched his mouth with the back of his hand. I think he was smiling. I warmed, guessing that he had seen me go on guard.

Rynn Cormel was not the stereotypical master vampire. He hadn't been dead long enough yet to pass the tricky forty-year barrier, and he didn't try to disguise the age at which he had died, maintaining an athletic forty-something appearance, his jet-black hair silvering slightly and his face having the first faint wrinkles that help men get higher-paying jobs and that women try to hide. He knew I had become suspicious, but he didn't pretend he hadn't noticed. He didn't make any cryptic statements that "it would do no good," making it part threat, part promise. He was just so damned…normal. Political.

I gave him the once-over, from his freshly arranged hair, down his black cashmere coat, to his shiny black shoes. The shoes were inappropriate for the weather, but it wasn't as if he was going to get cold. It was all for show.

Seeing my attention, Cormel smiled. The man was tall, well dressed, and had a good body. His laugh was pleasant and his manner comfortable, but he wasn't beautiful or otherwise remarkable, being too pale and wan to be attractive—until he smiled, and then he was breathtaking. His was the smile that had saved the world, literally holding it together as everything exploded and coalesced in a brand-new way after the Turn. It was the promise of gentle honesty, security, protection, freedom, and prosperity. Seeing it directed at me, I forced my eyes away and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

Ivy had stiffened, reading what was going on in the backseat by the signals I was unconsciously giving off. Hell, the entire car could. Her brow was pinched in concern when she turned to see us. "The hospital is going to have the cops looking for her until we can get the paperwork for an AMA," she said. "They don't want a lawsuit if she collapses."

From my coat, Jenks laughed, and I jumped, having forgotten he was there. "What are the chances that won't happen?" he quipped, then levered himself out to sit on my shoulder in the warmth of my scarf now that Erica was gone.

"We've made arrangements to stay with a friend, not too far from the church so Jenks can man the phones," Ivy said, her gaze flicking nervously from Cormel to me. There was a helpless fear there, not the raw fear Piscary had evoked in her when he'd looked at me, but the fear that Cormel might become interested in me. It wasn't jealousy—it was fear of abandonment. "If you head to the church, I can direct you when we get closer," she finished.

Jenks snickered. "How many times have you passed out this year, Rache?"

Miffed, I tried to see him, but he was too close. "You wanna pass out right now, Jenks?"

"I'd enjoy it if you would stay with me," Cormel said, his gloved hands folded quietly in his lap. "I have lots of room now that I've put the upper floors back into an apartment. There's only one bed up there, but one of you can sleep on the couch."

Couch? I thought dryly. He'd just as soon see Ivy and me sharing more than rent, but I couldn't find a hint of suggestion in his tone. Besides, I couldn't spend the night there. I had to get hold of my scrying mirror to call Al and get tomorrow off, and all before sunrise. This time of year put it at about eight, and I was starting to get anxious.

"The Chickering was delivered last week," Rynn Cormel said, shifting so his entire attention landed on me. "Have you heard Ivy play the piano, Rachel? She has such a sensitive touch. She should have been encouraged to go professional." Then he smiled. "Though she will have centuries to follow that path if she ever desires."

"Yes," I said, remembering the few times I'd walked in on Ivy lost at the keys. She quit every time; the piano left her more open and raw than she wanted me to see her.

"Wonderful." Cormel leaned to touch the driver in direction. "Call ahead to get the heat turned up, if you would."

My eyes closed briefly at the misunderstanding and I shook my head. "No, I mean I've heard her play, but we can't stay."

"Thank you anyway, Rynn," Ivy said softly, as if she'd been waiting for me to say no first. "Jenks needs to get home to mind the firm. No one will arrest a pixy, but it's likely there will be trouble, and I don't want to be halfway across the Hollows when it hits our door."