The Good, The Bad, And The Undead th-2 Read online

  Ivy shook her head. "He's going to get caught."

  I shrugged and edged the breadsticks closer. "They won't hurt him." Settling back, I watched the contented people enjoy themselves, thinking of Nick and how long it had been since we'd been out. I'd started on my second breadstick when a waiter appeared. Already silent, the table went expectant as he cleared away the crumbs and used plates. The man's neck from behind the blue satin shirt was a mass of scars, the newest still red-rimmed and sore looking. His smile at Ivy was a little too eager, a little too much like a puppy. I hated it, wondering what his dreams had been before he became someone's plaything.

  My demon bite tingled, and my gaze roved across the crowded room to find Piscary himself bringing our food. Heads turned as he passed, drawn by the fabulous smell that had to be emanating from the elevated platter. The level of conversation notably dropped. Piscary settled the platter before us, an eager smile hovering about him, his need for his cooking skills to be recognized looking odd on someone with so much hidden power. "I call it Temere's need," he said.

  "Oh my God!" Glenn said in disgust, clear over the hush. "It's got tomatoes on it!"

  Ivy elbowed him in the gut hard enough to knock the wind out of him. The room went silent except for the noise filtering down from upstairs, and I stared at Glenn. "Uh, how wonderful," he wheezed.

  Sparing Glenn a glance, Piscary cut it into wedges with a professional flourish. My mouth watered at the smell of melted cheese and sauce. "That smells great," I said admiringly, my earlier distrust lulled by the prospect of food. "My pizzas never come out like this."

  The short man raised his thin, almost nonexistent eyebrows. "You use sauce from a jar."

  I nodded, then wondered how he knew.

  Ivy looked to the kitchen. "Where is Jenks? He should be here for this."

  "My staff is playing with him," Piscary said lightly. "I imagine he'll be out soon." The undead vamp slid the first piece onto Ivy's plate, then mine, then Glenn's. The FIB detective pushed his plate away with one finger in disgust. The other patrons whispered, waiting to see our reaction to Piscary's latest creation.

  Ivy and I immediately picked our slices up. The smell of cheese was strong, but not enough to hide the odor of spice and tomatoes. I took a bite. My eyes closed in bliss. There was just enough tomato sauce to carry the cheese. Just enough cheese to carry the toppings. I didn't care if it had Brimstone on it, it was so good. "Oh, burn me at the stake now," I moaned, chewing. "This is absolutely wonderful."

  Piscary nodded, the light shining on his shaven head. "And you, Ivy girl?"

  Ivy wiped her chin free of sauce. "It's enough to come back from the dead for."

  The man sighed. "I'll rest easy this sunrise."

  I slowed my chewing, turning with everyone else to Glenn. He was sitting frozen between Ivy and me, his jaw clenched with a mix of determination and nausea. "Uh," he said, glancing down at the pizza. He swallowed, looking as if the nausea was winning out.

  Piscary's smile vanished, and Ivy glared at him. "Eat it," she said loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear.

  "And start at the point, not the crust," I warned him.

  Glenn licked his lips. "It has tomatoes on it," he said, and my lips pursed. This was exactly what I had been hoping to avoid. One would think we had asked him to eat live grubs.

  "Don't be an ass," Ivy said caustically. "If you really think the T4 Angel virus skipped forty tomato generations and appeared in an entirely new species for your benefit, I'll ask Piscary to bite you before we leave. That way you won't die but just turn vamp."

  Glenn scanned the waiting faces, realizing he was going to have to eat some pizza if he wanted to walk out under his own power. Visibly swallowing, he awkwardly picked the slice up. His eyes screwed up and he opened his mouth. The noise from upstairs seemed loud as everyone downstairs watched, their breath held.

  He took a bite, his face distorting wildly. The cheese made twin bridges from him to the pizza. He chewed twice before his eyes cracked open. His jaw slowed. He was tasting it now. His eye caught mine, and I nodded. Slowly he pulled the pizza away until the cheese separated.

  "Yes?" Piscary leaned to put his expressive hands atop the table, genuinely interested in what a human thought of his cooking. Glenn was probably the first in four decades to sample it.

  The man's face was slack. He swallowed. "Uh," he grunted from around a partially full mouth. "It's uh… good." He looked shocked. "It's really good."

  The restaurant seemed to heave a sigh. Piscary straightened to all of his short height, clearly delighted as the conversations started up with a new, excited edge to them. "You're welcome here anytime, FIB officer," he said, and Glenn froze, clearly worried that he had been made.

  Piscary grabbed a chair behind him and swung it around. Hunched over the table across from us, he watched us eat. "Now," he said as Glenn lifted the cheese to look at the tomato sauce under it. "You didn't come here for dinner. What can I do for you?"

  Ivy set her pizza down and reached for her wine. "I'm helping Rachel find a missing person," she said, flicking her long hair needlessly back. "One of your employees."

  "Trouble, Ivy girl?" Piscary asked, his resonate voice surprisingly gentle with regret.

  I took a sip of wine. "That's what we want to find out, Mr. Piscary. It's Dan Smather."

  Piscary's few wrinkles folded into a soft frown as he gazed at Ivy. With telltale motions so slight they were almost undetectable, she fidgeted, her eyes both worried and defiant.

  My attention jerked to Glenn. He was pulling the cheese off his pizza. Appalled, I watched him gingerly pile it into a mound. "Can you tell us the last time you saw him, Mr. Piscary?" the man asked, clearly more interested in denuding his pizza than our questioning.

  "Certainly." Piscary eyed Glenn, his brow furrowed as if not sure whether to be insulted or pleased as the man ate the pizza, now nothing more than bread and tomato sauce. "It was early Saturday morning after work. But Dan isn't missing. He quit."

  My face went slack in surprise. It lasted for three heartbeats, then my eyes narrowed in anger. It was starting to fall together, and the puzzle was a lot smaller than I had thought. A big interview, dropping his classes, quitting his job, standing his girlfriend up at a "we have to talk" dinner. My eyes flicked to Glenn, and he gave me a brief, disgusted look as he came to the same conclusion. Dan hadn't disappeared; he had gotten a good job and ditched his small-town girlfriend.

  Pushing my glass away, I fought off a feeling of depression. "He quit?" I said.

  The innocuous-looking vamp looked over his shoulder to the front door as a rowdy group of young vamps swirled in and what looked like the entire wait staff flocked to them with loud calls and hugs. "Dan was one of my best drivers," he said. "I'm going to miss him. But I wish him luck. He said it was what he was going to school for." The slight man brushed the flour from the front of his apron. "Security maintenance, I think he said."

  I exchanged weary looks with Glenn. Ivy straightened on the bench, her usual aloof mien looking strained. A sick feeling went through me. I didn't want to be the one to tell Sara Jane she had been dumped. Dan had gotten a career job and cut all his old ties, the cowardly sack of crap. I would have bet he had a second girlfriend on the side. He was probably hiding out at her place, letting Sara Jane think he was dead in an alley and laughing as she fed his cat.

  Piscary shrugged, his entire body moving with the slight motion. "If I had known he was good at security, I might have made him a better offer, though it would be hard to give more than Mr. Kalamack. I'm just a simple restaurant owner."

  At Trent's name, I started. "Kalamack?" I said. "He got a job with Trent Kalamack?"

  Piscary nodded as Ivy sat stiffly on the bench, her pizza sitting untouched but for the first bite. "Yes," he said. "Apparently his girlfriend works for Mr. Kalamack, too. I believe her name is Sara? You might want to check with her if you are looking for him." His long-toothed smile went devious. "She's proba
bly the one that got him the job, if you know what I mean."

  I knew what he meant, but from the sound of it, Sara Jane hadn't. My heart pounded and I started to sweat. I knew it. Trent was the witch hunter. He lured Dan with a promise of employment and probably nacked him when Dan tried to back out, realizing what side of the law Trent worked. It was him. Damn him back to the Turn, I had known it!

  "Thanks, Mr. Piscary," I said, wanting to leave so I could start cooking up some spells that night. My stomach tightened, the pleasant slurry of pizza and my gulp of wine going sour in my excitement. Trent Kalamack, I thought bitterly, you are mine.

  Ivy set her empty wineglass onto the table. I met her eyes triumphantly, my pleased emotion faltering as she watched herself refill it. She never, ever, drank more than one glass, rightly concerned about lowered inhibitions. My thoughts went back to how she had flaked out in the kitchen after I told her I was going after Trent again.

  "Rachel," Ivy said, her gaze fixed on the wine. "I know what you're thinking. Let the FIB handle it. Or give it to the I.S."

  Glenn stiffened but remained silent. The memory of her fingers around my neck made it easy for me to find a flat tone. "I'll be fine," I said.

  Piscary rose, his bare head coming below the hanging light. "Come see me tomorrow, Ivy girl. We need to talk."

  That same wash of fear that I saw in her yesterday swept her. Something was going on that I wasn't aware of, and it wasn't something good. Ivy and I were going to have to have a talk, too.

  Piscary's shadow fell over me, and I looked up. My expression froze. He was too close, and the smell of blood overwhelmed the sharp tang of tomato sauce. His black eyes fixed to mine, something shifted, as sudden and unexpected as ice cracking.

  The old vamp never touched me, but a delicious tingle raced through me as he exhaled. My eyes widened in surprise. His whisper of breath followed his thoughts through my being, backwashing into a warm wave that soaked into me like water through sand. His thoughts touched the pit of my soul and rebounded as he whispered something unheard.

  My breath caught as the scar on my neck suddenly throbbed in time with my pulse. Shocked, I sat unmoving as trails of promised ecstasy raced from it. A sudden need pulled my eyes wide, and my breath came fast.

  Piscary's intent gaze was knowing as I took another breath, holding it against the hunger swelling in me. I didn't want blood. I wanted him. I wanted him to pull upon my neck, to savagely pin me to the wall, to force my head back and draw the blood from me, to leave behind a swelling sensation of ecstasy that was better than sex. It beat upon my resolve, demanding I respond. I sat stiffly, unable to move, my pulse pounding.

  His potent gaze flowed down my neck. I shuddered at the sensation as my stance shifted, inviting him. The pull grew worse, tantalizingly insistant. His eyes caressed my demon bite. My eyes slipped shut at the tendrils of aching promise. If he would just touch me…I ached for even that. My hand crept unbidden to my neck. Abhorrence and blissful intoxication warred within me, drowned out by a hurting need.

  Show me, Rachel, I felt his voice chime through me. Wrapped in the thought was compulsion. Beautiful, beautiful thoughtless compulsion. My need shifted to anticipation. I would have it all and more…soon. Warm and content, I traced a fingernail from my ear to my collarbone, poised on the brink of a shudder as my fingernail bumped over each and every scar. The hum of conversation was gone. We were alone, wrapped in a muzzy swirl of expectation. He had be-spelled me. I didn't care. God help me; it felt so good.

  "Rachel?" Ivy whispered, and I blinked.

  My hand was resting against my neck. I could feel my pulse lifting rhythmically against it. The room and the loud noise snapped back into existence with a painful rush of adrenaline. Piscary was kneeling before me, one hand upon mine as he looked up. His pupil-black gaze was sharp and clear as he inhaled, tasting my breath as it flowed back through him.

  "Yes," he said as I pulled my hand from his, my stomach in knots. "My Ivy girl has been most careless."

  Almost panting, I stared at my knees, pushing my sudden fear down to mix with my fading craving for his touch. The demon scar on my neck gave a final pulse and faded. My held breath escaped me in soft sound. It carried a hint of longing, and I hated myself for it.

  In a motion of smooth grace, he stood. I stared at him, seeing and loathing his understanding of what he had done to me. Piscary's power was so intimate and certain that the thought I could stand against it rightly never occurred to him. Beside him, Kist looked like a child, even when borrowing his master's abilities. How could I ever be afraid of Kisten again?

  Glenn's eyes were wide and uncertain. I wondered if everyone knew what had happened.

  Ivy's fingers gripped the stem of her empty wineglass, her knuckles white with pressure. The old vamp leaned close to her. "This isn't working, Ivy girl. You either get control of your pet or I will."

  Ivy didn't answer, sitting with that same frightened, desperate expression.

  Still shaking, I was in no position to remind them that I wasn't a possession.

  Piscary sighed, looking like a tired father.

  Jenks flitted erratically to our table with a faint whine. "What the hell am I here for?" he snarled as he landed on the salt shaker and started brushing himself off. What smelled like cheese dust sifted down to the table, and there was sauce on his wings. "I could be home in bed. Pixies sleep at night, you know. But no-o-o-o," he drawled. "I had to volunteer for baby-sitting. Rachel, give me some of your wine. Do you know how hard it is to get tomato sauce out of silk? My wife is gonna kill me."

  He stopped his harangue, realizing no one was listening. He took in Ivy's distressed expression and my frightened eyes. "What the Turn is going on?" he said belligerently, and Piscary drew back from the table.

  "Tomorrow," the old vamp said to Ivy. He turned to me and nodded his good-bye.

  Jenks looked from me to Ivy and back again. "Did I miss something?"

  Nine

  "Where's my money, Bob?" I whispered as I dropped the stinky pellets into Ivy's bathtub. Jenks had sent his brood out to the nearest park yesterday to bring back a handful of fish food for me. The pretty fish gulped at the surface, and I washed the smell of fish oil off my hands. Fingers dripping, I looked at Ivy's perfectly arranged pink towels. After a moment of hesitation, I dried my hands, then smoothed them out so she couldn't tell I'd used one.

  I spent a moment trying to arrange my hair under my leather cap, then strode out into the kitchen, boots thumping. My eyes went to the clock above the sink. Fidgeting, I went to the fridge, opening it to stare at nothing. Where the devil was Glenn?

  "Rachel," Ivy muttered from her computer. "Stop. You're giving me a headache."

  I shut the fridge and leaned against the counter. "He said he'd be here at one o'clock."

  "So he's late," she said, one finger on the computer screen as she jotted down an address.

  "An hour?" I exclaimed. "Cripes. I could have been out to the FIB and back by now."

  Ivy clicked to a new page. "If he doesn't show, I'll loan you bus fare."

  I turned back to the window and the garden. "That's not why I'm waiting for him," I said, even though it was.

  "Yeah. Right." She clicked her pen open and shut so fast it almost hummed. "Why don't you make us some breakfast while you wait? I bought toaster waffles."

  "Sure," I said, feeling a tug of guilt. I wasn't in charge of breakfast—just dinner—but seeing as we ate out last night, I felt I owed her something. The deal was, Ivy did the grocery shopping if I made supper. Originally the arrangement had been to keep me from running into assassins at the store and creating a new meaning to the phrase "cleanup in aisle three." But now, Ivy didn't want to cook and refused to renegotiate. Just as well. The way things were going, I wouldn't have enough for a can of Spam by week's end. And rent was due Sunday.

  I opened the door to the freezer and pushed aside the half-empty cartons of ice cream to find the frozen waffles. The box hit the counter w
ith a hard clunk. Yum, yum. Ivy gave me a raised eyebrow look when I struggled to open the damp cardboard. "So-o-o-o," she drawled as I dug my red nails into the top and tore it completely off when the handy-dandy pull-tab broke. "When are they coming to get the fish?"

  My eyes darted to Mr. Fish swimming in his brandy snifter on the kitchen windowsill.

  "The one in my bathtub?" she added.

  "Oh!" I exclaimed, flushing. "Well…"

  Her chair creaked as she leaned back. "Rachel, Rachel, Rachel," she lectured. "I've told you before. You have to get the money up front. Before the run."

  Angry that she was right, I jammed two waffles into the toaster and shoved them down. They popped back up, and I smacked them down again. "It wasn't my fault," I said. "The stupid fish was never missing and no one bothered to tell me. But I'll have the rent by Monday. Promise."

  "It's due Sunday."

  There was a distant pounding at the front door. "There's Glenn," I said, striding out of the kitchen before she could say anything more. Boots clattering, I went down the hall and into the empty sanctuary. "Come on in, Glenn!" I shouted, voice echoing against the distant ceiling. The door remained shut, so I pushed it open, stopping short in surprise. "Nick!"

  "Hey. Hi," he said, his lanky height looking awkward on the wide stoop. His long face was slack in question, and his thin eyebrows were high. Tossing his black, enviably straight bangs from his eyes, he asked, "Who's Glenn?"

  A smile quirked the corners of my mouth at his hint of jealousy. "Edden's son."

  Nick's face went empty, and I grinned, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside. "He's an FIB detective. We're working together."