Dead Witch Walking (17 page)

Mrs. Jenks took a pair of tiny scissors in hand. They looked more like an heirloom than a functional piece of equipment, their wooden handles carved into the shape of a bird. The beak was metal, and my eyes widened as she took the cold iron and knelt before Jenks. “Please stay asleep, love,” I heard her whisper, and I watched in astonishment as she delicately trimmed the frayed edges of Jenks’s wing. The smell of cauterized blood rose thick in the shut-up room.

Ivy appeared in the doorway as if having been summoned. “You’re bleeding,” she said.

I shook my head. “It’s Jenks’s wing.”

“No. You’re bleeding. Your foot.”

I straightened, squashing a flash of angst. Breaking eye contact, I swung my foot up to look at its underside. A red smear covered my heel. I had been too busy to notice.

“I’ll clean it up,” Ivy said, and I dropped my foot, shrinking back. “The
floor,
” Ivy said in disgust. “You left bloody footprints all over the
floor.
” My gaze went to where she pointed to the hallway, my footprints obvious in the growing light of the new day. “I wasn’t going to touch your foot,” Ivy muttered as she stomped out.

I flushed. Well…I had woken up with her breathing on my neck.

There was a thumping of cupboard doors and a rush of water from the kitchen. She was mad at me. Maybe I ought to apologize. But for what? I already said I was sorry for hitting her.

“You sure Jenks is going to be okay?” I asked, avoiding the problem.

The pixy woman sighed. “If I can get the patches in place before he wakes up.” She sat back on her heels, closed her eyes, and said a short prayer. Wiping her hands on her skirt, she took up a dull blade with a wooden handle. She set a patch in place and ran the flat of the blade along the edges, melting it to Jenks’s wing. He shuddered, though didn’t wake. Her hands were shaking when she finished, and pixy dust sifted from her to make her glow. An angel indeed.

“Children?” she called, and they appeared from everywhere. “Bring your father along. Josie, if you would go and make sure the door is open?”

I watched as the children descended upon him, lifting him up and carrying him out through the flue. Mrs. Jenks wearily got to her feet as her eldest daughter packed everything away in the bag. “My Jenks,” she said, “sometimes reaches for more than a pixy ought to dream for. Don’t get my husband killed in his folly, Ms. Morgan.”

“I’ll try,” I whispered as she and her daughter vanished up the chimney. I felt guilty, as if I were intentionally manipulating Jenks to protect myself. There was a sliding clatter of glass into the trashcan, and I rose, glancing out the window. The sun was up, shining on the herbs in the garden. It was way past my bedtime, but I didn’t think I could go back to sleep.

Feeling weary and out of control, I shuffled into the kitchen. Ivy was on her hands and knees in her black robe, swabbing up my footprints. “I’m sorry,” I said, standing in the middle of the kitchen with my arms clasped around myself.

Ivy looked up with narrowed eyes, playing the part of the martyr well. “For what?” she said, clearly wanting to drag me through the entire apology process.

“For, er, hitting you. I wasn’t awake yet,” I lied. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“You already apologized for that,” she said, going back to the floor.

“For you cleaning up my footprints?” I tried again.

“I offered to.”

I bobbed my head. She had. I wasn’t going to delve into the possible motives behind that, but just accept her offer as her being nice. But she was mad about something. I hadn’t a clue what. “Um, help me out here, Ivy,” I finally said.

She rose and went to the sink, methodically rinsing the rag out. The yellow cloth was carefully set over the faucet to dry. She turned, leaning back against the counter. “How about a little trust? I said I wasn’t going to bite you, and I’m not.”

My mouth dropped open. Trust? Ivy was upset about trust? “You want trust?” I exclaimed, finding I needed to be angry to talk to Ivy about this. “Then how about more control from you. I can’t even contradict you without you going vampy on me!”

“I do not,” she said, her eyes widening.

“You do, too,” I said, gesturing. “It’s just like that first week we worked together and we would argue over the best way to bring in a shoplifter at the mall. Just because I don’t agree with you doesn’t mean I’m wrong. At least listen to me before you decide that I am.”

She took a breath, then slowly let it out. “Yes. You’re right.”

I jerked back at her words. She thought I was right? “And another thing,” I added, slightly mollified. “Stop with the running away during an argument. You stormed out of here tonight like you were going to rip someone’s head off, then I wake up with you bending over me? I’m sorry for punching you, but you have to admit, you kind of deserved it.”

A faint smile crossed her, then disappeared. “Yeah. I suppose.” She rearranged the rag over the spigot. Turning, she clasped her arms around herself, gripping her elbows. “Okay, I won’t leave in the middle of an argument, but you’re going to have to not get so excited during them. You’re jerking me around until I don’t know which floor to stand on.”

I blinked. Did she mean excited as in scared, angry, or both? “Beg pardon?”

“And maybe get a stronger perfume?” she added apologetically.

“I—I just bought some,” I said in surprise. “Jenks said it covered everything.”

A sudden distress pinched Ivy’s face as she met my gaze. “Rachel…I can still smell me thick on you. You’re like a big chocolate-chip cookie sitting all alone on an empty table. And when you get all agitated, it’s as if you just came out of the oven, all warm and gooey. I haven’t had a cookie in three years. Could you just calm down so you don’t smell so damn good?”

“Oh.” Suddenly cold, I sank down in my chair at the table. I didn’t like being compared to food. And I’d never be able to eat another chocolate-chip cookie again. “I rewashed my clothes,” I said in a small voice. “I’m not using your sheets or soap anymore.”

Ivy’s eyes were on the floor when I turned around. “I know,” she said. “I appreciate it. It helps. This isn’t your fault. A vampire’s scent lingers on anyone they live with. It’s a survival trait that tends to lengthen the life of a vampire’s companion by telling other vamps to back off. I didn’t think I would notice it, seeing as we were sharing floor space, not blood.”

A shudder went through me as I recalled from my basic Latin class that the word companion stemmed from the word for food. “I don’t belong to you,” I said.

“I know.” She took a careful breath, not looking at me. “The lavender is helping. Maybe if you hung satchels of it in your closet it would be enough. And tried not to get so emotional, especially when we’re—discussing alternative actions?”

“Okay,” I said softly, realizing how complex this arrangement was going to be.

“Are you still going out to Kalamack’s tomorrow?” Ivy asked.

I nodded, relieved at the change of topics. “I don’t want to go without Jenks, but I don’t think I can wait for him to be flightworthy.”

Ivy was silent for a long moment. “I’ll drive you out. As close as you want to risk it.”

My mouth dropped open for a second time. “Why? I mean, really?” I quickly amended, and she shrugged.

“You’re right. If you don’t get this done quickly, you won’t last another week.”

“Y
ou aren’t going,
dear,
” Mrs. Jenks said tightly.

I dumped my last swallow of coffee down the sink, gazing uncomfortably into the garden, bright with the early afternoon sun. I would rather be anywhere else right now.

“The devil I’m not,” Jenks muttered.

I turned around, too tired from a morning with not enough sleep to enjoy watching Jenks get henpecked. He was standing on the stainless steel island with his hands aggressively on his hips. Beyond him, Ivy was hunched at her wooden table as she planned three routes to the Kalamack estate. Mrs. Jenks was beside her. Her stiff stance said it all. She didn’t want him to go. And looking the way she did, I wasn’t about to contradict her.

“I say you aren’t going,” she said, a cord of iron laced through her voice.

“Mind your place, woman,” he said. A hint of pleading ruined his tough-guy stance.

“I am.” Her tone was severe. “You’re still broken. What I say goes. That’s our law.”

Jenks gestured plaintively. “I’m fine. I can fly. I can fight. I’m going.”

“You aren’t. You can’t. You’re not. And until I say, you’re a gardener, not a runner.”

“I can fly!” he exclaimed, his wings blurring into motion. He lifted a mere fingerbreadth off the counter and back down. “You just don’t want me to go.”

She stiffened. “I’ll not have it said you were killed because of my failings. Keeping you alive is my responsibility, and I say
you’re broken
!”

I fed Mr. Fish a crushed flake. This was embarrassing. If it had been up to me, I’d let Jenks go, flightless or not. He was recovering faster than I would have believed possible. Still, it had been less than ten hours since he was spouting poetry. I looked at Mrs. Jenks with an inquiring arch to my eyebrows. The pretty pixy woman shook her head. That was it, then.

“Jenks,” I said. “I’m sorry, but until you have the green, you’re garden-bound.”

He took three steps, stopping at the edge of the counter. His fists clenched.

Uncomfortable, I joined Ivy at the table. “So,” I said awkwardly. “You said you have an idea of how I can get in?”

Ivy took the end of the pen out from between her teeth. “I did some research this morning on the net—”

“You mean after I went back to bed?” I interrupted.

She looked up at me with her unreadable brown eyes. “Yes.” Turning away, she rifled through her maps, pulling out a colored brochure. “Here, I printed this out.”

I sat down as I took it. She had not only printed it out, but had folded it into the usual brochure folds. The colorful pamphlet was an advertisement for guided tours of the Kalamack botanical gardens. “ ‘Come stroll among the spectacular private gardens of Councilman Trenton Kalamack,’ ” I read aloud. “ ‘Call ahead for ticket prices and availability. Closed on the full moon for maintenance.’ ” There was more, but I had my way in.

“I’ve got another one for the stables,” Ivy said. “They run tours all year, except for spring, when the foals are born.”

“How considerate.” I ran a finger over the crayon-bright sketch of the grounds. I had no idea Trent was interested in gardening. Maybe he
was
a witch. There was a loud, very obvious whine as Jenks flew the short distance to the table. He could fly, but barely.

“This is fantastic,” I said, ignoring the belligerent pixy as he walked over the paper and into my line of sight. “I was planning on you dropping me off somewhere in the woods so I could hike my way in, but this is great. Thanks.”

Ivy gave me an honest, closed-lipped smile. “A little research can save a lot of time.”

I stifled a sigh. If Ivy had her way, we would have a six-step plan posted over the john for what to do if it backed up. “I could fit in a big purse,” I said, warming to the idea.

Jenks sniffed. “A really big-ass purse.”

“I have someone who owes me a favor,” Ivy said. “If she bought the ticket, my name wouldn’t be on the roster. And I could wear a disguise.” Ivy grinned to show a faint slip of teeth. I returned it weakly. She looked altogether human in the bright afternoon light.

“Hey,” Jenks said, glancing at his wife. “I could fit in a purse, too.”

Ivy tapped her pen on her teeth. “I’ll take the tour, and misplace my purse somewhere.”

Jenks stood on the brochure, his wings moving in abrupt fits of motion. “I’m going.”

I jerked the pamphlet out from under him, and he stumbled back. “I’ll meet you tomorrow past the front gate in the woods. You could pick me up just out of sight.”

“I’m going,” Jenks said louder, ignored.

Ivy leaned back in her chair with a satisfied air. “Now
that
sounds like a plan.”

This was really odd. Last night Ivy had nearly bit my head off when I suggested nearly the same thing. All she needed was to have some input. Pleased for having figured this small bit of Ivy out, I rose and opened my charm cupboard. “Trent knows about you,” I said as I looked my spells over. “Only heaven knows how. You definitely need a disguise. Let’s see…I could make you look old.”

“Is no one listening to me?” Jenks shouted, his wings an angry red. “I’m going. Rachel, tell my wife I’m fit enough to go.”

“Uh, hold up,” Ivy said. “I don’t want to be spelled. I’ve got my own disguise.”

I turned, surprised. “You don’t want one of mine? It doesn’t hurt. It’s just an illusion. It’s not anything like a transformation charm.”

She wouldn’t meet my gaze. “I have something in mind already.”

“I said,” Jenks shouted, “I’m going!”

Ivy scrubbed a hand over her eyes.

“Jenks—” I began.

“Tell her,” he said, darting a glance at his wife. “If you say it’s okay, she’ll let me go. I’ll be able to fly by the time I need to.”

“Look,” I said. “There will be other times—”

“To break into Kalamack’s estate?” he cried. “Don’t freaking think so. Either I go now, or never. This is my only shot at finding out what Kalamack smells like. No pixy or fairy has been able to tell what he is. And not you, or anyone else, is going to take that chance from me.” A wisp of desperation had crept into his voice. “Neither of you are big enough.”

I looked past him to Mrs. Jenks, my eyes pleading. He was right. There would be no other time. It would be too chancy to risk even my life if it hadn’t already been in the blender and waiting for someone to push the button. The pretty pixy’s eyes closed, and she clasped her arms about herself. Looking pained, she nodded. “All right,” I said, my attention back on Jenks. “You can come.”

“What?” Ivy yelped, and I shrugged helplessly.

“She says it’s okay,” I said, nodding to Mrs. Jenks. “But only if he promises to bug out the second I say. I’m not going to risk him any more than he can fly.”

Jenks’s wings blurred to an excited purple. “I’ll leave when I decide.”

“Absolutely not.” I stretched my arms out along the table, putting my fists to either side of him and glaring. “We are going in under my discretion, and we will leave on the same terms. This is a witchocracy, not a democracy. Clear?”

Jenks tensed, his mouth open to protest, but then his eyes slid from mine to his wife’s. Her tiny foot was tapping. “ ’Kay,” he said meekly. “But only this time.”

I nodded and pulled my arms back to myself. “Will that fit in with your
plan
, Ivy?”

“Whatever.” Chair scraping, she got to her feet. “I’ll call for the ticket. We have to leave in time to get to my friend’s house and out to the main bus station by four. The tours run from there.” Her pace was edging into vamp mode as she strode from the kitchen.

“Jenks, dear?” the small pixy woman said softly. “I’ll be in the garden if you—” Her last words choked off, and she flew out through the window.

Jenks spun, a heartbeat too late. “Matalina, wait,” he cried, his wings blurring to nothing. But he was nailed to the table, unable to keep up with her. “The Turn take it! It’s my only chance,” he shouted after her.

I heard Ivy’s muffled voice in the living room as she argued with someone on the phone. “I don’t care if it is two in the afternoon. You owe me.” There was a short silence. “I could come down there and take it out of your hide, Carmen. I’ve nothing to do tonight.” Jenks and I jumped at the thunk of something hitting the wall. I think it was the phone. It seemed everyone was having a fabulous afternoon.

“All set!” she shouted with what was obviously forced cheerfulness. “We can pick up the ticket in a half hour. That gives us just enough time to change.”

“Great,” I said with a sigh, rising to pluck a mink potion from the cupboard. I couldn’t imagine mere clothes would make a good enough disguise for a vamp. “Hey, Jenks?” I said softly as I rummaged in the silverware drawer for a finger stick. “How does Ivy smell?”

“What?” he all but snarled, clearly still upset about his wife.

My eyes shot to the empty hall. “Ivy,” I said, even more softly so she couldn’t possibly hear. “Before the fairy attack, she stormed out of here like she was going to rip someone’s heart out. I’m not going to put myself in her purse until I know if…” I hesitated, then whispered, “Has she started practicing again?”

Jenks turned serious. “No.” He steeled himself and made the short flight to me. “I sent Jax to watch her. Just to make sure no one slipped her a charm aimed at you.” Jenks puffed with parental pride. “He did well on his first run. No one saw him. Just like his old man.”

I leaned closer. “So where did she go?”

“Some vamp bar on the river. She sat in the corner, snarling at anyone who got close, and drank orange juice all night.” Jenks shook his head. “It’s really weird, if you ask me.”

There was a small sound in the doorway, and Jenks and I straightened with a guilty quickness. I looked up, blinking in surprise. “Ivy?” I stammered.

She smiled weakly, with a pleased embarrassment. “What do you think?”

“Uh, great!” I managed. “You look great. I never would have recognized you.” And I might not have.

Ivy was wrapped in a skintight yellow sundress. The thin straps holding it up stood out sharp against her shockingly white skin. Her black hair was a wave of ebony. Bright red lipstick was the only color to her face, making her look more exotic than usual. She had sunglasses on, and a wide-brimmed yellow hat that matched her high heels. Over her shoulders was a purse big enough to carry a pony.

She spun in a slow circle, looking like a stoic model on the runway. Her heels made a sharp click-clack, and I couldn’t help but watch. I made a mental note—no more chocolate for me. Coming to a stop, she took her sunglasses off. “Think this will do?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Uh, yeah. You actually wear that?”

“I used to. And it won’t set off any spell-check amulets, either.”

Jenks made a face as he levered himself up on the sill. “Much as I enjoy this horrific outpouring of estrogen, I’m going to go say good-bye to my wife. Let me know when you’re ready. I’ll be in the garden—probably next to the stink weed.” He wobbled into flight and out the window. I turned back to Ivy, still amazed.

“I’m surprised it still fits,” Ivy said as she looked down at herself. “It used to be my mother’s. I got it when she died.” She eyed me with a severe frown. “And if she ever shows up on our doorstep, don’t let on I have it.”

“Sure,” I offered weakly.

Ivy tossed her purse to the table and sat with her legs crossed at the knees. “She thinks my great aunt stole it. If she knew I had it, she’d make me give it back.” Ivy harrumphed. “Like she could wear it anymore. A sundress after dark is so tacky.”

She turned, a bright smile on her face. I stifled a shudder. She looked like a human. A wealthy, desirable human. This, I realized, was a hunting dress.

Ivy went still at my almost horrified look. Her eyes dilated, sending my pulse hammering. That awful black drifted over her as her instincts were jerked into play. The kitchen faded from my awareness. Though she was across the room, Ivy seemed right before me. I felt myself go hot, then cold. She was pulling an aura in the middle of the freaking afternoon.

“Rachel…” she breathed, her gray voice enticing a shudder from me. “Stop being afraid.”

My breath came quick and shallow. Frightened, I forced myself to turn so my back was almost to her.
Damn, damn, damn!
This wasn’t my fault. I hadn’t done anything! She had been so normal…and then this? From the corner of my sight I watched Ivy hold herself still, scrambling for control. If she moved, I was going out the window.

But she didn’t move. Slowly my breath came easier. My pulse slowed, and her tension decreased. I took a deep breath, and the black in her eyes diminished. I flipped my hair out of my face and pretended to wash my hands, and she slumped to her chair by the table. Fear was an aphrodisiac to her hunger, and I had been unwittingly feeding it to her.

“I shouldn’t have put this on again,” she said, her voice low and strained. “I’ll wait in the garden while you invoke your spell.” I nodded, and she drifted to the door, clearly making a conscious effort to move at a normal speed. I hadn’t noticed her standing up, but there she was, moving into the hallway. “And Rachel,” she said softly, standing in the threshold. “If I ever do start practicing again, you’ll be the first to know.”