But I had to get home. We had to. We both needed to get back to the church and the patterns of behavior that kept us apart and together—sane. I had to call Al before the sun came up and beg for the time off. And now I had to ask him if he knew of a way to save a vampire's soul, because if I didn't, I might find myself dead.

The sound of Ivy's boots brought my attention up, and she strode down the stairs with her arms crossed. "You okay?" I asked as I pulled the tarp from Ivy's bike, and she nodded.

From my scarf came Jenks's snotty "I'm okay, you're okay, Ivy's freaking okay. We're all okay. Can we get the hell out of here?"

Ivy stashed my bag, got on the bike, and turned to look at me, waiting. "Are you going to pull me?" I asked, heart pounding as I stood on the hard cement with my feet going cold in my boots.

Her eyes were like liquid brown in the dim light, and I could see her misery. "No."

I had to trust her. Swinging my leg over, I got on the bike behind her and held on tight as Ivy idled the bike out of the sheltered warmth and into the cold snow of the last of the year.

Sixteen

The kitchen was warm, smelling of brown sugar, chocolate chips, and butter. I was making cookies with the excuse that they would soften Al up, but the reality was, I wanted Jenks to have the chance to get excessively warm. The ride home had been bitterly cold, and though he'd never admit it, Jenks was almost blue by the time Ivy parked her cycle in the garden shed and I hustled into the church with him. His kids had long since tired of playing in the oven's updrafts, but he was still in here, his wings slowly moving back and forth.

As expected, a stone-faced I.S. agent had been waiting for us when we cycled in, silently taking his copy of the AMA and driving off. If not for that stupid piece of paper, I'd be back in the hospital under guard, but as it was, I was pulling the last tray of cookies out and feeling better. Tired, but better. Take that, Dr. Mape.

It was almost four in the morning, just about the time I usually crawled into bed. Ivy was at her computer, each key getting a harder tap than the one before it as she not so patiently waited for me to call Al and ask for the night off, but talking to demons was tricky. I wanted Jenks warm and mobile before I did it. And a little comfort food never did anyone any harm.

"It's getting late," Ivy muttered, the rim of brown around her pupils narrowing as she tracked something on her monitor. "You going to do this anytime soon?"

"I've got hours," I said as I slid the last cookie onto the cooling rack. Propping the tray in the sink to sizzle, I leaned to look at the clock above me. "Relax."

"You've got four hours, sixteen minutes." Her eyes flicked to me, and she arranged her colored pens in the mug she used for a pencil cup. "I just pulled up the almanac."

Putting five cookies on a plate, I set them next to her keyboard and took the topmost for myself. "I wanted to make cookies. Everyone likes cookies," I said, and she smirked, delicately taking a cookie with her long, slim fingers.

Jenks rose up from the oven, warm at last. "Oh yeah. Cookies ought to do it." He laughed, and a slip of dust fell from him. "Al had a fit the last time you asked for a night off. He said no, too."

"That's why the cookies. Duh. I wasn't recovering from a banshee attack either. Tonight will be different." I hope.

Hands on his hips, Jenks got an unusually bitter look on his face as he landed by my scrying mirror on the center island counter. "Maybe you should offer him a bite out of something else? Bet he'd give you the freaking year off."

"Jenks!" Ivy snapped, and the pixy turned his back on us to look out the dark window.

"What's the matter, Jenks?" I said tightly. "You don't want me talking to the wise demon? Didn't I hear you tell Rynn Cormel he was a wise demon?" Okay, maybe that had been a little nasty, but he had been picking on me all night, and I wanted to know why.

He stayed where he was, his wings moving fitfully, and tired of it, I sat in my spot at the table and leaned toward Ivy. "What's with him?" I said, loud enough for him to hear. Ivy shrugged, and I wiped the cookie crumbs from my fingers. Rex was staring at me from the threshold, and on the off chance, I dropped my hand in invitation.

"Oh my God!" I whispered when the cat stood and, her tail crooked happily, came to me. "Look!" I said as the orange beast bumped her head under my palm as if we were great friends. Ivy leaned over to see, and feeling brave, I sent my hand under the cat's middle. Not breathing, I lifted, and without even a squirm, the cat was on my lap.

"Oh my God!" I whispered again. She was purring. The freaking feline was purring.

"It's the bloody apocalypse," Jenks muttered, and I fondled the young cat's ears. My wonder turned to contentment when Rex settled in with her paws tucked under herself. Ivy shook her head and went back to work. No way was I ruining this with calling Al. Al could wait. I was guessing that Pierce was in the kitchen, and he was happy.

Rex still on my lap, I ate another cookie as thoughts of Pierce sifted through me. It had been eight years, and though I'd changed—moved out, gone to school, been hired, fired, run for my life, saved a life, put my boyfriend to rest and learned to live again—he probably hadn't changed at all. The last time I'd seen him, he had been an attractive mix of power and helplessness, not any older than I was now.

I felt a smile grow as I recalled him busting the doors to the I.S. building with a flung spell, knocking out their security, and then sealing them inside with a ward. All with an odd awkwardness that hit my little-boy-lost button. He'd taken down an undead vampire with power he had drawn through me so subtly that I hadn't felt it, even when I'd known he was doing it.

Rex purred, and I kept my fingers moving to keep her with me. I was not stupid. I knew that Pierce, even as a ghost, had a mix of power and vulnerability that was a veritable Rachel magnet. And I wasn't so blind that I wouldn't admit I felt a twinge of attraction. But an unexpected sense of peace outweighed that. I wasn't going to run willy-nilly into a relationship, even if one was possible. Kisten had taught me the dangers of letting my heart rule me. Call it gun shy, call it growing up, but I was happy as I was. I was in no hurry. And that felt good.

Ivy looked up at me, her typing stilling as she recognized that something had shifted in the air. Face placid, she glanced at Jenks. The pixy's wings went red in agitation, and he flew to land on the cookie plate and demand my attention. "Marshal called," he said, as if it was the most important thing in the world. "You were in the can. He says he's bringing doughnuts over tomorrow for breakfast if you get out of your thing with Big Al."

"Okay," I said as I scratched Rex's jawline, remembering that Pierce hadn't been my first kiss. He'd been my first done-right kiss, though, and I smiled.

"Trent's coming with him," Jenks said, hands on his hips, "and Jonathan."

"That's nice." I stroked Rex, then brought her to my nose so I could smell her sweet kitty fur. "Such a good kitty," I crooned. "Such a clever kitty to know there is a ghost in the church."

Jenks set his wings to blurring, not moving an inch. "See?" he said to Ivy, appalled. "She likes him. Rachel, he's been spying on us! Start thinking with your head, huh?"

A flicker of annoyance went through me, but it was Ivy who said, "Jenks, get off it," in an almost bored tone. "He's not spying on us."

"But she likes him!" Jenks yelped, wings so fast that the bit of red tape finally flew off.

Ivy sighed, looking up first at Jenks, then at me. "This is Rachel we're talking about," she said with a smile. "I'd give it three months, tops."