What if he was telling the truth?
Sixteen
Boots thumping in the hallway, I followed Ivy to the front door. Her tall frame moved with a preoccupied grace, predatorial as always in her tasteful leather pants. She might get away solstice shopping in leather, but I had opted for jeans and a red sweater. Even so, we both looked good. Shopping with Ivy was fun. She always treated for cookies, and dodging the offers for dates took on a delicious sense of danger, as she attracted all sorts of people.
"I've got to be back by eleven," she said as we entered the sanctuary and she swung her long hair back. "I've got a run tonight. Someone's underage daughter was lured into a bloodhouse, and I'm going in to get her out."
"You want some help?" I asked, buttoning my coat and hitching my bag higher up my shoulder while I walked.
Pixies were clustered at the stained-glass windows, hovering at the lighter colors and squealing at something outside. A harsh smile came over Ivy. "No. It won't take much."
The hard anticipation on her pale oval face worried me. She had come back from visiting Piscary in a very bad mood. Clearly it hadn't gone well, and I had a feeling she was going to take her frustration out on whoever had abducted that girl. Ivy was rough with vampires who preyed on the underage. Someone was going to spend their holiday in traction.
The phone rang, and Ivy and I froze, looking at each other. "I'll get it," I said. "But if it's not a run, I'll let the machine pick it up."
She nodded, heading out the door with her purse. "I'll warm up the car."
Taking a quick breath, I jogged to the back of the church. On the third ring the machine engaged. The outgoing message spewed its spiel, and my face tightened. Nick had recorded it for me—I thought it posh for it to appear that we employed a male secretary. Though now, seeing as we were listed with professionals of another sort, it probably only added to the confusion.
My frown deepened when the outgoing message cut off and Nick's voice continued. "Hey, Rachel?" he said hesitantly. "Are you there? Pick up if you are. I…I was hoping you'd be home. It's what, about six there?"
I forced my hand to pick up the phone. He was in a different time zone? "Hi, Nick."
"Rachel." The relief was thick in his voice, in stark contrast to my flat tone. "Good. I'm glad I caught you."
Caught me. Yeah. "How are you doing?" I asked, trying to keep the sarcasm from my voice. I was still stinging, hurt and confused.
He took a slow breath. I could hear water in the background and a hiss of something cooking. The soft clink of glasses and the murmur of conversation intruded. "I'm doing okay," he said. "I'm doing good. I slept really well last night."
"That's great." Why in hell didn't you tell my ley line practice I was waking you up? You could have been sleeping well here, too.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
My jaw hurt, and I forced my teeth apart. I'm confused. I'm hurt. I don't know what you want. I don't know what I want. "Fine," I said, thinking of Kisten. At least I knew what he wanted. "I'm fine." My throat hurt. "Want me to get your mail, or will you be home soon?"
"I've got a neighbor picking it up. But thanks."
You didn't answer my question. "Okay. Do you know if you'll be back by the solstice, or should I give your ticket to…someone else?" I hadn't meant to hesitate. It just happened. It was obvious Nick had heard it, too, given his silence. A seagull cried in the background. He was on a beach? He was at a bar on a beach and I was dodging black charms in cold slush?
"Why don't you do that," he said finally, and I felt as if someone punched me in the gut. "I don't know how long I'm going to be here."
"Sure," I whispered.
"I miss you, Rachel," he said, and I closed my eyes.
Please don't say it, I thought. Please.
"But I'm feeling much better. I'll be home soon."
It was exactly what Jenks had told me he would say, and my throat closed up. "I miss you, too," I said, feeling betrayed and lost all over again. He said nothing, and after three heartbeats, I stepped into the breach. "Well, Ivy and I are going shopping. She's in the car."
"Oh." He sounded relieved, the bastard. "I won't keep you. Um, I'll talk to you later."
Liar. "All right. 'Bye."
"I love you, Rachel," he whispered, but I hung up as if I hadn't heard. I didn't know if I could answer him anymore. Miserable, I pulled my hand from the receiver. My red nail polish looked bright against the black plastic. My fingers were trembling and my head hurt.
"Then why did you leave instead of telling me what's wrong?" I asked the empty room.
I exhaled with a measured slowness to try to wash the tension from me. I was going shopping with Ivy. I wouldn't ruin it by brooding about Nick. He was gone. He wasn't coming back. He felt better when he was a time zone away from me; why would he come back?
Hitching my bag higher up my shoulder, I headed for the front. The pixies were still clustered at the windows in small knots. Jenks was somewhere else, for which I was grateful. He'd only tell me "I told you so" if he had heard my conversation with Nick.
"Jenks! You have command of the ship!" I shouted as I opened the front door, and a smile, faint but real, crossed me when a piercing whistle emanated from my desk.
Ivy was in the car already, and my eyes were drawn across the street to Keasley's house, pulled by the sound of kids and a dog barking. My steps slowed. Ceri was in his yard, wearing the jeans I had dropped off earlier and an old coat of Ivy's. Bright red mittens and a matching hat made a vivid splash against the snow as she and about six kids ranging from ten to eighteen rolled snowballs around. A mountain was taking shape in the corner of Keasley's small lot. Next door were four more kids doing the same. It looked like there was going to be a snowball fight before too much longer.
I waved to Ceri, then Keasley—who was standing on his porch watching with an intent hunch that told me he'd like to be down there, too. Both of them waved back, and I felt warm. I'd done something good.
I lifted the door latch of Ivy's borrowed Mercedes, slipping in to find it still blowing cold air from the vents. It took forever for the big four-door sedan to warm up. I knew Ivy didn't like driving it, but her mother wouldn't lend her anything else and a cycle in slush was asking for stitches. "Who was it?" Ivy asked as I angled the vent off me and buckled myself in. Ivy drove as if she couldn't be killed, which I thought was a little ironic.
"Nobody."
She gave me a telling look. "Nick?"
Lips pressed together, I set my bag on my lap. "Like I said, nobody."
Not looking behind her, Ivy pulled away from the curb. "Rachel, I'm sorry."
The sincerity in her gray silk voice pulled my head up. "I thought you hated Nick."
"I do," she said, not at all apologetic. "I think he's manipulative and withholds information that might get you hurt. But you liked him. Maybe…" She hesitated, her jaw tightening and relaxing. "Maybe he's coming back. He does…love you." She made an ugly sound. "Oh God, you made me say it."
I laughed. "Nick isn't that bad," I said, and she turned to me. My eyes flicked to the truck we were about to rear-end at a stoplight, and I braced myself against the dash.
"I said he loved you. I didn't say he trusted you," she said, her eyes on me as she braked smoothly to a halt ending with our grille six inches from his bumper.