The Undead Pool

Four

Ivy?” I shouted as I pushed my socks around in my top dresser drawer. “Have you seen my white chemise with the lacy fringe?” The black slacks and short, snappy matching jacket I’d picked out for tonight’s job needed something to alleviate the stark security look. Finding something that said work without tacking on fashion dork was harder than it sounded.

Jenks flew into my room, his wings clattering loudly. “The last time I wore it, I put it back where I found it,” he said as he came to a pixy-dust-laced halt on my dresser.

Eyeing him sourly, I held up a pair of big hooped earrings, and together we evaluated the effect. They got rid of a large chunk of security, and at Jenks’s thumbs-up, I slipped them on. Not only did they look nice, but with my shower-damp hair back in a hard-to-grab braid, Jenks could use them to do his pixy surveillance . . . thing.

Ivy’s voice filtered back from the kitchen. “Your bathroom?”

Scuffing my flat shoes on, I went to check. Even with a quick shower to get the stink of ever-after from me, I was doing good for time, but Trent was usually early.

“And you think you don’t like him,” Jenks said as he followed me across the hall. “It’s just Trent, for Tink’s toes. Who cares what you look like? No one is supposed to notice you.”

“I never said I didn’t like him,” I said as I remembered Al’s warning.

Wearing security black hadn’t bothered me at first, but after three months of it, being professional had gotten old. If it had been a date, I’d wear my red silk shirt and maybe the jeans that were a shade too snug to eat in. Gold hoops and a white chemise would have to do, and I rifled through the dryer, finally finding it hanging up behind the door.

“Out!” I said firmly to Jenks. “You too, Bis,” I added, and Jenks jerked into the air, leaving behind a flash of black sparkles like ink as he spun to the glass-door shower.

“Bis! Damn it, you creepy bat!” Jenks swore, and the teenage gargoyle made a coarse guttural laugh like rocks in a garbage disposal. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Practicing,” the gargoyle said, his color shifting back to his neutral pebbly gray. Bis hung from the ceiling with his clawlike fingers, his dexterous, lionlike tail with the white tuft wrapped around the showerhead for balance. He was the size of a cat, and I’d be worried about him pulling out the plumbing if he weren’t exceptionally lightweight. He had to be for his leathery wings to be able to keep him in the air. I’d felt his presence the instant I entered the bathroom, easily spotting him in the shower practicing changing his skin tone to the pattern of the tile. The mischievous kid had taken a liking to startling Jenks, knowing it made the pixy mad.

“I mean it,” I said, chemise in hand as I pointed to the door. “Both of you, out.”

Still laughing, Bis swooped out, intentionally making the back draft from his wings spin Jenks’s flight into a dangerous loop before he darted out after him. I couldn’t help my smile as I listened to Jenks complain to Ivy as I put the chemise on instead of the flat cotton tee.

“Much better,” I whispered as I evaluated the results, and grabbing my jacket, I headed for the hall, ambling to the kitchen at the back of the church. Ivy looked up from her slick new laptop as I entered, her eyes skating over my outfit in approval. Her old tower and monitor were gone, and an overindulgent, high-def screen she could plug her laptop into now took up a good portion of the thick country-kitchen farm table pressed up against the interior wall. Her high-tech efficiency went surprisingly well with my herbs and spell-crafting paraphernalia hanging over the center counter. The single window that overlooked the kitchen garden was a black square of night. Al’s chrysalis and Trent’s old pinkie ring sitting under a water glass were the only things on the sill now that most of the dandelions were done. The radio was on to the news, but thankfully there’d been no new reports of misfires. Maybe it was over. I sighed, and as if feeling it, Ivy took the pencil from between her teeth. “Nice balance.”

Pleased, I dropped my jacket onto my bag on the table as I made my way to my charm cupboard. “Thanks. I don’t know why I even bother. I’ll probably be spending the night sitting outside a boardroom door.” Standing before the open cupboard, I fingered my uninvoked charms to find two pain amulets. Both Bis and Ivy were looking at her maps, the gargoyle’s gnarly claws spread wide to maintain his balance on the awkwardly flat surface. He really was a smart kid, and I’d been toying with the idea of giving him my laptop so he’d stop using Ivy’s—but then I’d have to use Ivy’s, and that was no good either.

“What’s up?” I asked, and she stuck the pencil back between her teeth, spinning the topmost map for me to see.

Bis looked worried, and with one hand at my hip, the other on the table, I leaned over the map showing Cincinnati and the Hollows across the river, color coded like a zip-code map to show the traditional vampire territories. Everyone looked to Rynn Cormel as the last word in vampire law, but lesser masters handled their own problems unless things got out of hand. Squabbles were common, but the number of red dots on Ivy’s map wasn’t good. Every section had at least one violent crime within the last twenty-four hours, probably ignored in the current chaos.

“You think it’s connected to the misfired charms?” I asked.

“Could be,” she said as she turned the map back around when I dropped my charms into my bag and went to the silverware drawer for a finger stick. “David called when you were in the shower. He wants to talk to you about some odd activity he’s been witnessing.”

Tension flashing, I took the sticky note she pushed at me with one long, accusing finger, recognizing her precise script and the cell number on it. “Thanks, I’ll call him,” I mumbled as I stuffed it in my pocket. I hadn’t talked to him or anyone from the Were pack since an uncomfortable dinner almost a month ago. It had been to celebrate the addition of a few new members, but everyone except David had treated me as if I was some sort of revered personage. I’d left feeling as if they were glad I’d gone so they could cut loose. Who could blame them? It wasn’t as if I was around that much. My female alpha status was originally supposed to be honorary—and it had been until David began adding members. I hadn’t said anything because David deserved it. That, and he was really good at being an alpha.

“Will you be around for dinner?” she asked, ignoring that I was staring at my open silverware drawer, slumped in guilt.

“Ahhh, I wouldn’t count on it,” I hedged, wincing when Jenks’s kids flowed through the kitchen, jabbering in their high-pitched voices. Circling Bis, they begged him to wax the steeple so they could slide down it, and blushing a dull black, the gargoyle took off after them. “You batching it tonight?”

Ivy set a hand on her papers so they wouldn’t fly up. “Yes. Nina is with her folks tonight.”

Her mood was off, and I put the finger stick in with my charms to invoke them later. Ivy’s control was good, but why put warm cookies in front of someone on a diet? “She doing okay?” I asked, crouching to get my splat gun out of the nested bowls.

Ivy’s smile was wistful when I came back up. “Yes,” she said, and a small knot of worry loosened. Whatever was bothering her wasn’t Nina. “She’s doing well. She still has control issues when heated, but if she can realize it in time, she can funnel the energy into other . . . directions.” Her pale cheeks flushed, and her fingers clicked over the keys in a restless staccato.

Knowing Ivy, I could guess where that energy was being diverted, and I dropped the splat gun into my bag, peering in to see what I’d collected. Pain charms, finger stick, wallet, phone, keys, lethal magic detection charm . . . the usual. “Hey, I appreciate you trying to get my car back. Edden still working on it?” I said, still fishing for what was bothering her.

The irritating tapping of her pencil ceased. “No one out there knew me, Rachel,” she complained, and my eyebrows rose. She is worried about my car? “I worked in the I.S. for almost a decade, all the way from runner to the arcane, and no one out there knew me!”

Ah, not my car, her reputation. Smiling, I dropped my bag on the table, glad no one there recognized her. Maybe now she’d be free to live her life. “Jeez, Ivy, you were the best they had. If they ignored you, it was because they’re still ticked. There’s a difference.”

“Maybe, but I didn’t see anyone I recognized.” Lips pressing, she tapped her maps. “You saw how busy it was. Half of Piscary’s children worked in the I.S., and no one was out there.”

“Maybe they were out at other calls,” I suggested.

“All of them?” Again the pencil tapped, the cadence faster. “Where is everyone?” she said, eyes on the map. “I can see some of them being let go when Piscary died, but Rynn Cormel would still need a foothold in the I.S. Maybe more so since he’s not originally from here. You don’t think he abandoned them, do you? Now that he’s had time to make his own children?”

“No. He wouldn’t do that,” I said, trying to reassure her, but the truth of it was I didn’t know. That Rynn Cormel had taken Piscary’s children in when he became Cincy’s new top master vampire had been unusual, even if the vampire hadn’t had any of his own at the time. It had prevented a lot of heartache, because vampires without masters usually didn’t last long, succumbing to blood loss and neglect as they worked their way backward through the citywide hierarchy.

“I’m sure they were just on other calls,” I said when the huge farm bell we used as a front doorbell clanged. My heart gave a pound, and my motion to get the door faltered when Jenks shouted that he’d get it. A sprinkling of pixy dust drifted down in the hallway, and I wondered how long he’d been eavesdropping. He worried about Ivy, too.

“That’s probably Trent,” I said, breath catching at the easy sound of his voice.

Ivy froze, her eyes flashing a pupil black as she looked up from under a lowered brow.

“What?” I asked, liking Trent’s voice, especially when it was soft in quiet conversation.

Exhaling, Ivy dropped her eyes. “Nothing. I’ve not felt that in a long while, is all.”

“Felt what?” I said defensively when she arched her eyebrows cattily. “Oh, hell no,” I said as I slung my shoulder bag. “I’m not falling for him. It’s the excitement of a job. That’s it.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, and realizing I’d forgotten to put my jacket on first, I took my shoulder bag back off. “And that’s why you put your best perfume on?”

Motions jerky, I jammed first one arm, then another into the jacket. “Give me a break, Ivy,” I muttered, hearing Trent’s voice become louder. “You know how hard it is to get rid of the stink of burnt amber? I might be having dinner with the mayor.”

Trent walked in with Jenks on his shoulder, and my next words caught in my throat. He was in jeans and a casual top. My eyes traveled all the way down. Tennis shoes? “Or maybe something a little more casual,” I said, feeling overdressed.

His smile was as informal as his clothes, and he nodded to Ivy as she pushed back from her laptop, that pencil of hers twirling around her fingers instead of tapping on the table. “Ivy. Rachel,” he said in turn, then glancing at his watch. “You look nice. Are you ready?”

“Sure,” I said, cursing myself as that same quiver went through me. I saw it hit Ivy, her eyes going even darker. Damn it, I wasn’t going to do this. “Ah, give me five minutes to change into some jeans.”

His impatience was barely suppressed and I smiled, taking the show of emotion from the usually stiff man as a compliment. “You look fine. Let’s go. I have to be back by two.”

“But . . .” I said, words faltering as he nodded at Ivy and turned, his steps fast as he vanished back the way he’d come.

“Better get moving,” Jenks said, hanging in the air right where he’d been sitting on Trent’s shoulder.

“You’re not coming?” I asked, and he shook his head.

“Nah-h. Trent told me his plans. You don’t need me.”

Brow wrinkled in confusion, I turned to Ivy. “See you later, I guess.”

She was already bent back over her work, hiding her eyes. “Take it easy out there. There haven’t been any more misfires, but it doesn’t feel over.”

It didn’t feel over for me, either, and bag in hand, I followed Trent out. He was waiting for me at the top of the hall, his expression sheepish as he fell into step with me.

“Did I set Ivy off?” he whispered, and my eyes widened. That’s why the abrupt departure. But then I flushed. He thought he had set her off. Crap on toast, he thought he had set her off—meaning . . .

Stop it, Rachel. “Um, she’s fine,” I said, not wanting to say no and have him guess that I had set her off, not him. “You don’t mind driving, do you? My car is in impound.” His eyes went wide in question, and I added, “Long story. Not my fault. I’ll tell you in the car.” He almost laughed, and I could have smacked him. “So where are we going, anyway?”

“I told you. Bowling.”

“Fine. Don’t tell me.” He was still smiling and I lagged behind as we passed through the sanctuary, the light from the TV a dim glow as Jenks’s youngest watched a wildlife documentary. Bowling. Was he serious? What kind of contacts could he make bowling?

Trent’s pace was graceful and smooth, his fingers trailing along the smooth finish of the pool table. It was all I had left to remind me of Kisten, and I watched Trent’s fingers until they slipped off the end. “So what did Al say?” he asked.

To leave you alone, I thought, and seeing my frown, Trent added, “It was tampered with, wasn’t it?”

“Oh!” I forced a smile. “No,” I said as we entered the unlit foyer, pulse quickening when the scent of wine and cinnamon seemed to grow stronger in the dark. “It was fine,” I murmured. “Al says the charm was overstimulated, not misfired. I’m guessing it is the same thing that caused the rest of the misfires today. How’s your employee?”

“He’ll be okay with minimal hospitalization. The safety measures in place saved his sight, but if it had happened anywhere else it might have . . . taken out a room.” His words trailed off in thought as he reached before me to open the door. “Overstimulated? That makes more sense than misfires. I had a couple more incidents come in this afternoon. Little things, but I sent Quen all the data I could find. He says the misfires are localized into a narrow band that seems to be stemming from, ah . . . Loveland?”

His voice was hesitant, expression doubly so in the faint light from the sign over the door, and I nodded, glad he’d figured it out and I wouldn’t have to bring it up. Not many people knew that the ley line just outside the old castle was less than a year old and made by me—by accident. “I asked Al while I was there. We went out to look, and there’s nothing wrong with my line.”

“Oh!” His smile was oddly relieved as he pointed his fob at the car at the curb, and it started up. It was one of his sportier two-doors, and he liked his gadgets almost as much as he liked driving fast. “You’re already ahead of me on this. Good. That frees up our conversation tonight. I’d like to wedge something to eat into the schedule too.” He hesitated, one step down. “That is, if you don’t have other plans.”

I eyed him, not sure why the hint of pleasure in his voice. “I could eat, sure.” He still hadn’t told me where we were really going, and I closed the door behind me. We could lock it only from the inside, but who would steal from a Tamwood vampire and Cincinnati’s only day-walking demon? Scuffing down the shallow steps, I headed for Trent’s car, only to jerk to a halt when he unexpectedly reached before me to open the door with a grand flourish.

We’re going bowling, I thought sarcastically as I got in. Right. Trent shut the door, and the solid thump of German engineering echoed down our quiet street. I watched Trent through the side mirror as he came around the back of the car, his pace fast and eager. I fidgeted as he got in, the small car putting us closer than usual. I leaned to put my bag in the tiny space behind the seat, and Trent was holding himself with a closed stiffness when I leaned back. He liked his space, and I’d probably gotten too close.

My damp hair was filling the car with the scent of my shampoo, and I cracked the window. “Seriously, where are we going?” I asked, but his smile faltered when my phone rang from my shoulder bag. “You mind?” I asked as I leaned to get it, and his foot slipped off the clutch. The car jerked, and I scrambled not to drop the phone. His ears were red when I looked up, and I couldn’t help but smile as I found my phone. “It’s Edden,” I said as I looked at the screen. “He might have something about my car.”

Gesturing for me to go ahead, I flipped the phone open.

“Edden!” I said cheerfully. “What’s the good news about my car?”

“Still working on it,” he said, then at my peeved silence, added, “Can you come out tomorrow, say at ten?”

“What about my car?” I said flatly, and he chuckled.

“I’m working on it. I’d like you to talk to our shift change meeting. Tell everyone what happened at the bridge and give us your Inderland opinion.”

Oh. That was different. “That’s ten P.M., right?” I asked, fiddling with the vents as Trent drove us down the service roads paralleling the interstate. His usual fast and furious driving had slowed, and I wondered if he was trying to listen in.

“Ah, A.M.”

“In the morning?” I exclaimed, and Trent stifled a chortle. Yep, he was listening. “Edden, I’ve barely got my eyes unglued at ten. I’d have to get up by nine to make it.”

“So stay up,” the man said. “Call it a bedtime story. I promise I’ll have your car.”

I sighed. The chance to be included in something professional where my opinion was wanted was a unique and cherished thing. And I did want my car. But ten A.M.?

“Rachel, I could really use your help,” he said. “Even if these misfires are over, I’m having a hard time getting a handle on the issues they’ve caused. That misfired charm on the bridge was one of about two dozen that got reported,” Edden admitted. “We’re guessing five times that actually happened. I’m down two officers, and with the I.S. scrambling to apprehend the inmates who survived the mass exodus of the containment facility downtown, the vampires at large are taking it as a sign there is no law at all.”

We stopped at a light, and I glanced at Trent. His brow was creased, and I frowned. “What happened at the Cincy lockup?”

Edden’s sigh was loud enough to hear. “Apparently the high-security wing was in the path of whatever that was, and it unlocked. Most of the inmates are either dead or gone—”

“They killed them?” I said, aghast.

“No. Anyone using magic to escape died, probably from a misfire. They got it locked down, but I hate to think what would have happened if the sun hadn’t been up. At least the undead stayed put.” The background noise became suddenly louder as Trent turned us down a quiet street.

“The I.S. isn’t handling anything right now,” Edden said, and a ribbon of worry tightened about me. “Rachel, I don’t know the first thing about why a spell shop would explode or what would make a witch’s apartment fill with poisonous gas and snuff the entire building. I’ve got a sorting charm at the post office that took out the back wall of the Highland Hill branch and killed three people. Two construction workers in intensive care from an unexpected glue discharge, and a van of kids treated and released for something involving cotton candy and a hay baler. Even if nothing more goes wrong, I’m swamped. Is there an Inderlander holiday I don’t know about?”

“No.” My thoughts went to Newt’s space and time calibration curse. She didn’t think it was over. “Okay, I’ll be there, but I want coffee.”