push myself back. “Don’t let it touch me!” I cried. “Don’t make me do this!”
The fear in Nick’s eyes was for how I was acting, not from the demon. He didn’t understand. He thought he knew what he was doing. He thought his books had all the answers. He didn’t know what he was doing. I did.
Nick gripped my shoulder and turned to the demon. “Can you help her?” he asked it. “She’s going to kill herself.”
“Nick, no!” I shrieked as the demon knelt to put its grinning face next to mine.
“Sleep, Rachel Mariana Morgan,” it breathed, and I remembered no more.
“What happened? Where is Jenks?” Ivy’s voice penetrated my daze, close and worried. I could feel myself moving forward in a rocking motion. I had been warm, and now I was cold again. The smell of blood was thick. The memory of something more foul lingered in me: carrion, salt, and burnt amber. I couldn’t open my eyes.
“She was attacked by a demon.” It was terse and soft. Nick.
That’s right, I thought, starting to piece everything together. I was in his arms. That’s what that one good smell was, all masculine and sweaty. And that was his bloody sweatshirt pushing against my swollen eye, rubbing it even more sore. I started to shiver. Why was I cold?
“Can we get off the street?” Nick asked. “She’s lost a lot of blood.”
There was a warm touch on my forehead. “A demon did this?” Ivy said. “There hasn’t been a demon attack since the Turn. Damn it, I knew I shouldn’t have let her off the grounds.”
The arms about me tensed. My weight shifted forward and back as he stopped. “Rachel knows what she’s doing,” Nick said tightly. “She isn’t your child—in any sense of the word.”
“No?” Ivy said. “She acts like one. How could you let her get mauled like this?”
“Me? You cold-blooded vamp!” Nick shouted. “You think I let this happen?”
My stomach clenched in a wave of nausea, and I tried to pull my coat over me with my good hand. I cracked my eyes, squinting in the glow of the streetlight. Couldn’t they finish their argument after they put me to bed?
“Ivy,” Nick said slowly. “I’m not afraid of you, so save the aura crap and back off. I know what you’re up to, and I won’t let you do it.”
“What are you talking about?” Ivy stammered.
Nick leaned toward her, and I slumped unmoving between them. “Rachel seems to think you moved in the same day she did,” he said. “She might be interested to know all your magazines are addressed to you at the church.” I heard Ivy’s quick intake of breath, and he added in an intent voice, “How long have you been living here waiting for Rachel to quit? A month? A year? Are you hunting her slow, Tamwood? Hoping to making her your scion when you die? Doing a little long-term planning, are we? Is that it?”
I struggled to turn my head from Nick’s chest so I could hear better. I tried to think, but I was so confused. Ivy had moved in the same day I did, hadn’t she? Her computer hadn’t been hooked up to the net yet, and she had all those boxes in her room. How come her magazines had the church’s address on them? My thoughts went to the perfect witch-garden out back and the spell books in the attic complete with alibi. God save me, I was a fool.
“No,” Ivy said softly. “This isn’t what it looks like. Please don’t tell her. I can explain.”
Nick lurched into motion, jostling me as he went up the stone stairs. My memory was returning. Nick had made a deal with the demon. Nick had let it out. It had made me go to sleep. It had made me go through the ley lines. Damn. The slam of the sanctuary door jolted me, and I moaned at the pulse of pain.
“She’s coming around,” Ivy said tersely, her voice echoing. “Put her in the living room.”
Not the couch, I thought as the peaceful feeling of the sanctuary infused me. I didn’t want to get my blood all over Ivy’s couch, but then I decided it had probably seen blood before.
My stomach dropped as Nick crouched. I felt the gentle give of the cushions beneath my head. My breath hissed as Nick pulled his arms out from under me. There was the click of the table lamp, and I puckered my face at the sudden warmth and glare through my closed eyelids.
“Rachel?”
It was close, and someone gently touched my face.
“Rachel.” The room got quiet. It was the hush that really woke me up. I opened my eyes, squinting to see Nick kneeling beside me. Blood still seeped from under his hairline, and a dried rivulet of it flaked from his jawline and neck. His hair was mussed and disheveled, and his brown eyes were pinched. He was a mess. Ivy was behind him, close in worry.
“It’s you,” I whispered, feeling light-headed and unreal. Nick leaned back with a relieved puff. “Can I have some water?” I rasped. “I don’t feel so good.”
Ivy leaned forward to eclipse the light. Her eyes rove over me with a professional detachment that cracked when she lifted the edge of Nick’s makeshift bandage on my neck. Her eyes went puzzled. “It’s almost stopped bleeding.”
“Love, trust, and pixy dust,” I slurred, and Ivy nodded.
Nick got to his feet. “I’ll call an ambulance.”
“No!” I exclaimed. I tried to sit up, forced back by fatigue and Nick’s hands. “I’ll get tagged there. The I.S. knows I’m alive.” I fell back panting. The bruise on my face where the demon hit me pulsed in time with my heart. A twin throb came from my arm. I was dizzy. My shoulder hurt when I inhaled, and the room darkened when I exhaled.
“Jenks dusted her,” Ivy said, as if that explained everything. “As long as she doesn’t start bleeding again, she probably won’t get any worse. I’ll get a blanket.” She rose with that eerie, fast grace of hers. She was going vampy, and I was in no condition to do anything about it.
I looked at Nick as she left. He seemed ill. The demon had tricked him. We had gotten home as promised, but now a demon was loose in Cincinnati when all Nick had needed to do was wait for Jenks and Ivy.
“Nick?” I breathed.
“What? What can I do?” His voice was worried and soft, tinged with guilt.
“You’re an ass. Help me sit up.”
He winced. With hands hesitant and cautious, he helped me inch my way up until my back was against the arm of the couch. I sat and stared at the ceiling while the black spots danced and quivered until they went away. Taking a slow breath, I looked at myself.
Blood splattered my dress where it showed past my coat draped over me like a blanket. Maybe now I could throw it away. A brown film of blood had stuck my nylons to my feet. My arm with the bite looked gray where it wasn’t streaked with sticky blood. The hem of Nick’s shirt was still tied around my wrist, and blood dripped wetly from it with the speed of a dripping faucet: plink, plink, plink. Maybe Jenks had run out of dust before he got to it. My other arm was swollen, and my shoulder felt like it was broken. The room got too cold, then hot. I stared at Nick, feeling myself go distant and unreal.
“Oh, shit,” he muttered, glancing at the hallway. “You’re going to pass out again.” He grasped my ankles and slowly pulled me down until my head was supported by the arm of the couch. “Ivy!” he shouted. “Where’s that blanket?”
I stared at the ceiling until it stopped spinning. Nick stood hunched in a corner with his back to me, one hand clenched about his middle, the other holding his head. “Thanks,” I whispered, and he turned.
“What for?” His voice was bitter, and he looked ragged with dried blood