"You going to be all right for a while?" Ivy asked as Ceri dropped her shoes to the floor and snugged her feet into them.
"Good God," I muttered, twisting the chair back and forth. "I'll be fine."
"Stay on holy ground," she added as she gestured for Ceri to head out. "Don't tap a line. Eat your cookies."
"Not going to happen, Ivy," I said. Pasta. I wanted pasta in alfredo sauce. That's what Nick had cooked up for me the last time Ivy was bent on shoving these things down my throat. I couldn't believe she'd been slipping me Brimstone. Yes, I could.
"I'll call you in about an hour to make sure you're all right."
"I won't answer," I said, irritated. "I'm going to take a nap." I stood and stretched until my sweater and halter top rose to show my belly button. It would have gotten a wolf whistle from Jenks, and the silence in the rafters was depressing.
Ceri came forward with her cushion to give me a hug good-bye. It startled me, and I hesitantly returned it. "Rachel can take care of herself," she said proudly. "She's been holding enough ever-after to blow a hole in the roof for the last five minutes and has forgotten about it."
"Holy crap!" I exclaimed, feeling my face warm. "I am, aren't I!"
Ivy sighed as she strode to the church's front door. "Don't wait up for me," she called over her shoulder. "I'm having dinner with my folks and won't be home until after sunup."
"You should let it go," Ceri said as she edged after Ivy. "At least when the sun is down. Someone else might summon him, and if they don't banish him properly, he'll come looking for you. He might try to knock you out by adding to what you're holding now." She shrugged in a very modern gesture. "But if you stay on holy ground, you should be all right."
"I'll let it go," I said absently, my thoughts whirling.
Ceri smiled shyly. "Thank you, Rachel," she said softly. "It's good to feel needed."
I jerked my attention back to her. "You're welcome."
The scent of cold snow filtered in. I looked up seeing Ivy standing impatiently in the threshold of the open door, the fading light making her a threatening silhouette in tight leather. " 'By-y-y-y-ye, Rachel," she prompted mockingly, and Ceri sighed.
Turning, the slender woman made her unhurried way to the door, kicking off her shoes at the last moment and going barefoot out onto the icy cement steps.
"How can you stand the cold?" I heard Ivy say before the door shut behind them.
I soaked in the silence and the dusky light. Reaching over, I clicked off the desk lamp and it seemed to brighten outside. I was alone—for what was probably the first time—in my church. No roommate, no boyfriend, no pixies. Alone. My eyes closed, and I sat on the slightly raised stage and breathed. I could smell plywood over the almond scent of Ivy's stupid cookies. A soft pressure behind my eyes reminded me I was still holding that ball of ever-after, and with a nudge of my will, I broke the three-dimensional circle in my thoughts and the energy flowed back to the line in a warm wash.
I opened my eyes and headed for the kitchen, my sock feet soundless. I wasn't going to take a nap; I was going to make brownies as part of Ivy's present. There was no way I could compete with thousand-dollar perfume: I had to take the handmade-goodie track.
Detouring into the living room, I searched for the remote. The smell of plywood was almost an assault, and I glanced at the window Ivy had sketched on the panel, freehanding the view of the graveyard. I clicked on the stereo and Offspring's "Come Out and Play" spilled out. Grinning, I cranked it. "Wake the dead," I said, tossing the remote and dancing into the kitchen.
While the bouncy music lured me into a better mood, I pulled out my dented spell pot, which I couldn't use for spelling anymore, and the recipe book I had swiped from my mom. Thumbing through it, I found Grandma's fudgy brownie recipe penciled in beside the gourmet recipe that tasted like cardboard. Timing my motions with the music, I got out the eggs, sugar, vanilla, and dumped them on the center island counter. I had the chocolate chips melting on the stove and the evaporated milk measured out when the air shifted and the front door slammed. The egg in my hand slipped, cracking as it hit the counter.
"Forget something, Ivy?" I shouted. Adrenaline stabbed through me as my gaze went from the broken egg to everything scattered over the kitchen. I'd never get it hidden before she made it back here. Couldn't that woman stay away for even an hour?
But it was Kisten's voice that answered.
Twenty-one
"It's me, Rachel," Kisten called, his voice faint over the music blaring from the living room. I froze, the memory of the kiss he'd given me keeping me where I stood. I must have looked like an idiot when he turned the corner and stopped in the threshold.
"Ivy's not here?" he said, his eyes giving me the onceover. "Shoot."
I took a breath to settle myself. "Shoot?" I questioned, sliding the cracked egg off the counter and into the bowl. I didn't think anyone said shoot anymore.
"Can I say shit?"
"Hell, yes."
"Shit, then." His gaze went from me to the kitchen, lacing his hands behind his back as I picked the bigger chunks of shell out.
"Hey, would you, ah, turn the music down for me?" I said, sneaking a glance at him when he nodded and walked out. It was Saturday, and he was dressed casually in leather boots and faded jeans that were nice and tight. His short leather coat was open, and a burgundy silk shirt showed a wisp of chest hair. Just enough, I thought as the music softened. I could smell his coat. I was a sucker for the scent of leather. This might be a problem.
"Are you sure Ivy didn't send you over to baby-sit?" I questioned as he returned and I wiped the egg slime off on a damp dishcloth.
He chuckled and sat in Ivy's chair. "No." He hesitated. "Is she going to be gone for a while, or can I wait?"
I didn't look up from the recipe, not liking how he had said that. There had been more inquiry in his voice than the question warranted. "Ivy went to talk to Jenks." I ran my finger down the page without looking at the words. "Then she's having dinner with her folks."
"Sunup," he murmured, and I felt my warning flags go up. All of them.
The clock above the sink ticked, and I took the melted chocolate off the stove. I wasn't about to stand with my back to him, so I set it on the counter between us, crossing my arms in front of me and putting my backside against the sink. Watching me, he tossed his hair out of his eyes. I took a breath to tell him to go, but he interrupted.
"Are you all right?"
I stared blankly at him, then remembered. "Oh! The demon—thing," I muttered, embarrassed as I touched the pain charms about my neck. "You heard about that, huh?"
He smiled with half his mouth. "You made the news. And I had to listen to Ivy for three solid hours while she bitched about not being here at the time."
Going back to my recipe, I rolled my eyes. "Sorry. Yeah. I'm okay. A few scrapes and bruises. Nothing major. But I can't tap a line after sundown anymore." I didn't want to tell him I wasn't entirely safe after dark either, unless I was on holy ground…which the kitchen and living room weren't. "It's really going to put a crimp in my runs," I said sourly, wondering how I was going to get around this latest mountain. Oh well. It wasn't as if I relied on ley line magic. I was an earth witch after all.
Kisten didn't seem to think it mattered much either, if his casual shrug meant anything. "I'm sorry to hear Jenks left," he said, stretching his legs out and crossing his boots at his ankles. "He was more than an asset to your company. He's a good friend."