Every Witch Way But Dead

Thirty

My head came up at the faint sound of knocking. Giving me a warning look, Ivy stood, stretching for the kitchen's ceiling. "I'll get it," she said. "It's probably more flowers."

I took a bite of cinnamon toast and muttered around my full mouth, "If it's food, bring it back, will you?"

Sighing, Ivy walked out, both sexy and casual in her black exercise tights and a thigh-length baggy sweater. The radio was on in the living room, and I had mixed feelings about the announcer talking about the tragedy of the boat explosion early last night. They even had a clip of Trent telling everyone I had died saving his life.

This was really odd, I thought as I wiped butter from my fingers. Things had been showing up on our doorstep. It was nice to know I would be missed, and I hadn't known I had touched so many lives. It wasn't going to be pretty when I came out of the closet as being alive, though—kind of like standing someone up at the altar and having to give all the presents back. 'Course, if I died tonight, I'd go to my grave knowing just who my friends were. I kinda felt like Huck Finn.

"Yeah?" Ivy's wary voice came back through the church.

"I'm David. David Hue," came a familiar voice, and swallowing the last bite of toast, I ambled up to the front of the church. I was starving, and I wondered if Ivy was slipping Brimstone into my coffee to try to build my body's reserves after that dunk in the river.

"Who is she?" Ivy asked belligerently as I entered the sanctuary and found them on the landing, the lowering sun coming in past their feet.

"I'm his secretary," a tidy woman at David's side said, smiling. "Can we come in?"

My eyes widened. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, waving my hands in protest. "I can't watch two of you and bring in Lee."

David ran his eyes down my casual sweater and jeans, his eyes thick with a calculating evaluation. They lingered on my shortened hair, dyed a temporary brown just this afternoon as he had suggested over the phone. "Mrs. Aver isn't going to come with us," he said, making what was probably an unconscious nod of approval. "I thought it prudent that your neighbors see me arrive with a woman as well as leave with one. You're close to the same body build."

"Oh." Idiot, I thought. Why didn't I think of that?

Mrs. Aver smiled, but I could tell she thought I was an idiot, too. "I'll just pop into your bathroom and change, and then I'll go," she said brightly. Taking a step into the room, she set her slim briefcase beside the piano bench and hesitated.

Ivy started. "This way," she said, indicating that the woman should follow her.

"Thank you. You're so kind."

Making a small face for all the hidden undercurrents, I watched Mrs. Aver and Ivy leave, the former making a lot of noise in her bland black heels, the latter silent in her slippers. Their conversation ended with the click of my bathroom door shutting, and I turned to David.

He looked like a completely different Were outside of his spandex running pants and shirt. And nowhere near the same person the time I saw him leaning against a park tree in a duster that went to his boot tops and a cowboy hat pulled over his eyes. His heavy stubble was gone, to leave sun-roughed cheeks, and his long hair was styled and smelled of moss. Only the highest ranking Weres could carry off polish and not look like they were trying, but David managed it. The three-piece suit and manicured fingernails helped. He looked older than his athletic physique would testify, with a pair of glasses perched on his nose and a tie snugged up to his neck. Actually, he looked really good—in a professional, educated sort of way.

"Thanks again for helping me get in to see Saladan," I said, feeling awkward.

"Don't thank me," he said. "I'm getting a huge bonus." He set his expensive-looking suitcase on the piano bench. He seemed preoccupied—not angry with me, but wary and disapproving. It made me uncomfortable. Sensing me watching him, he looked up. "Mind if I do a little prep paperwork?"

I shifted back a step. "No. Go right ahead. You want some coffee?"

David looked at Jenks's desk and hesitated. Brow furrowing, he sat astride the piano bench and opened his briefcase up before him. "No thanks. We won't be here that long."

"Okay." I retreated, feeling his dissatisfaction heavy on me. I knew he didn't like that I had lied to my partner by omission, but all I needed was for him to get me in to see Lee. I hesitated at the top of the hallway. "I'll go change. I wanted to see what you were wearing."

David looked up from his paperwork, his brown eyes distant as he tried to do two things at once. "You'll be wearing Mrs. Aver's clothes."

My eyebrows rose. "You've done this before."

"I told you the job was a lot more interesting than you would think," he said to his papers.

I waited for him to say something more, but he didn't, so I went to find Ivy, feeling awkward and depressed. He hadn't said a word about Jenks, but his disapproval was clear.

Ivy was busy with her maps and pens when I entered, saying nothing as I poured a cup of coffee for me, and then her. "What do you think of David?" I asked, setting her cup beside her.

Her head went down and she tapped a colored pen on the table. "I think you'll be okay. He seems to know what he's doing. And it's not like I won't be there."

Leaning against the counter, I held my mug with both hands and took a long sip. Coffee slid down, easing my jitters. Something in Ivy's posture caught my attention. Her cheeks were a shade red. "I think you like him," I said, and her head jerked up. "I think you like older men," I added. "Especially older men in suits that bite and can plan better than you."

At that, she did flush. "And I think you should shut up."

We both started at the soft knock on the archway to the hall. It was Mrs. Aver, and it was embarrassing that neither of us had heard her come out of the bathroom. She was dressed in my robe, her clothes over one arm. "Here you go, honey," she said as handed me her gray suit.

"Thanks." I set my coffee down and took it.

"If you would, drop them off at Weres-'N-Tears dry cleaners. They do a good job getting out blood and stitching up small rips. Do you know where that is?"

I looked at the matronly woman standing before me in my fuzzy blue robe, her long brown hair down about her shoulders. She looked to be about the same size as me, if a bit hippy. My hair was a shade darker, but it was close enough. "Sure," I said.

She smiled. Ivy was back at her maps, ignoring us, her foot silently moving. "Great," the Were said. "I'm going to change and say 'bye to David before I leave on four feet." Flashing me a toothy grin, she sashayed to the hallway, hesitating. "Where's your back door?"

Ivy stood up with a noisy scrape of a chair. "It's broken. I'll get it for you."

"Thank you," she said with that same polite smile. They left, and I slowly I brought the woman's clothes to my nose. They were still warm from her body heat, and the faint scent of musk mixed with a light meadowy smell. My lips curved downward at the idea of wearing someone else's clothes, but the entire idea was to smell like a Were. And it wasn't as if she had brought me rags to put on. The lined wool suit must have cost her a bundle.

Steps slow and measured, I went to my room. That dating guide was still out on my dresser, and I looked at it with a mix of depression and guilt. What had I been thinking, wanting to read it again with the idea to drive Kisten wild? Miserable, I shoved it in the back of my closet. God help me, I was an idiot.

Resigned, I slipped out of my jeans and sweater. Soon the clack of nails in the hallway intruded, and as I put on my nylons, there was the pained sound of nails being pulled from wood. The new door wouldn't be in until tomorrow, and it wasn't as if she could slip out a window.

I was feeling very unsure about this, and it wasn't anything I could really pinpoint. It wasn't going in charmless, I thought as I shimmied into the gray skirt and tucked the white blouse in. Ivy and Kisten would be bringing in everything I needed; my duffel bag of spells was already packed and waiting in the kitchen. And it wasn't because I was going up against someone better in ley line magic. I did that all the time.

I shrugged into the jacket, slipping the warrant for Lee into an inner pocket. Wedging my feet into the low heels I had pulled from the back of my closet, I stared at my reflection. Better, but still it was me, and I reached for the contact lenses that David had couriered over earlier.

As I blinked and teared the thin brown bits of plastic into place, I decided that my unease was because David didn't trust me. He didn't trust my abilities, and he didn't trust me. I'd never had a partner relationship where I was the one under doubt. I had been thought of as an airhead before, and a flake, even incompetent, but never untrustworthy. I didn't like it. But looking back over what I had done to Jenks, it was probably deserved.

Movements slow and depressed, I styled my shorter hair up into a spare, businesslike bun. I put my makeup on heavy, using a base that was too dark, and so having to give my hands and neck a good layer as well. It covered my freckles, though, and with an unhappy feeling, I twisted my wooden pinky ring off; the charm was broken. With the darker makeup and the brown contact lenses, I looked different, but the clothes really turned the trick. And as I stood before my mirror and looked at myself in my dull boring suit and a dull boring hairstyle, and a dull boring look on my face, I didn't think even my mother would recognize me.

I dabbed a drop of Ivy's expensive perfume on me—the one that hid my scent—then followed it up with a splash of a musky perfume Jenks once said smelled like the underside of a log: earthy and rich. Clipping Ivy's phone onto my waist, I went into the hall, my heels making an unusual amount of noise. The soft sound of Ivy and David in conversation pulled me into the sanctuary, where I found them at her piano. I really wished Jenks were with us. It was more than needing him for reconnaissance and camera detail. I missed him.

David and Ivy looked up at the sound of my feet. Ivy's mouth dropped open. "Bite me and slight me," she said. "That is the most god-awful thing I think I've seen you wear. You actually look respectable."

I smiled weakly. "Thanks." I stood there gripping my hands in a fig-leaf posture as David ran his gaze over me, the slight easing of his brow the only sign of his approval. Turning away, he tossed his papers into his briefcase and snapped it shut. Mrs. Aver had left hers behind, and I picked it up when David indicated I should. "You'll bring my spells?" I asked Ivy.

She sighed, turning her gaze to the ceiling. "Kisten is on his way over. I'll go over it with him one more time, then we lock up the church and leave. I'll give you a ping when we're in place." She looked at me. "You do have my spare phone?"

"Ah…" I touched it on my waist. "Yes."

"Good. Go," she said as she turned and walked away. "Before I do something stupid like give you a hug."

Depressed and unsure, I headed out. David was behind me, his pace silent but his presence obvious by the faint scent of fern. "Sunglasses," he murmured when I reached for the door handle, and I paused to put them on. I pushed the door open, squinting from the late sun as I picked my way through the sympathy offerings ranging from professional flower arrangements to crayon-bright pages torn from coloring books. It was cold, the crisp air refreshing.

The sound of Kisten's car pulled my head up, and my pulse jackhammered. I froze on the steps and David almost ran into me. His foot bumped a squat vase, and it rolled down the steps to the sidewalk, spilling water and the single budded red rose it held.

"Someone you know?" he asked, his breath warm on my ear.

"It's Kisten." I watched him park and get out. God, he looked good, all trim and sexy.

David's hand went onto my elbow, pushing me into motion. "Keep going. Don't say anything. I want to see how your disguise holds up. My car is across the street."

Liking the idea, I continued down the stairs, stopping only to pick up the vase and set it on the lowest stair. It was actually a jelly-jar glass, with a pentagram of protection on it, and I made a soft sound of recognition as I tucked the red rose back into it and straightened. I hadn't seen one of those in years.

I felt a flutter in my stomach when Kisten's steps grew loud.

"Bless you," he said as he passed me, thinking I had put the flower there, not just picked it up. I opened my mouth to say something, closing it as David pinched my arm.

"Ivy!" Kisten shouted, hammering on the door. "Let's go! We're going to be late!"

David escorted me across the street and to the other side of his car, his hand firmly under my elbow—it was slick, and the heels I had on weren't made for ice. "Very nice," he said, sounding begrudgingly impressed. "But it's not as if you've slept with him."

"Actually," I said as he opened the door for me, "I have."

His eyes jerked to mine and a shocked look of revulsion crossed him. From inside the church came a faint, "You're fucking kidding! That was her? No fucking way!"

I pushed my fingers into my forehead. At least he didn't swear like that when I was around. My eyes went to David, the width of the door between us. "It's the species thing, isn't it?" I said flatly.

He said nothing. Jaw clenched, I told myself that he could think what he wanted. I didn't have to live up to his standards. Lots of people didn't like it. Lots of people didn't give a flip. Who I slept with should have nothing to do with our professional relationship.

Mood worsening, I got in and closed my door before he could do it. My belt clicked shut, and he slid behind the wheel and started his little gray car up. I didn't say a word as he pulled out and headed for the bridge. David's cologne became cloying, and I cracked the window.

"You don't mind going in without your charms?" David asked.

His tone lacked the expected disgust, and I seized on that. "I've gone in charmless before," I said. "And I trust Ivy to get them to me."

His head didn't move, though his eyes tightened in the corners. "My old partner never was without his charms. I'd laugh at him when we'd go in and he'd have three or four of them hanging around his neck. 'David,' he'd say, 'this one's for seeing if they're lying. This one's for knowing if they're under a disguise. And this one's for telling me if they're carrying a bunch of energy around in their chi and are ready to blast us all to hell.' "

I glanced at him, my mood softening. "You don't mind working with witches."

"No." He took his hand off the wheel when we rumbled over a railroad track. "His charms saved me a lot of pain. But I can't tell you the number of times he spent fumbling for the right spell when a good right cross would have settled things faster."

We crossed the river into Cincinnati proper, and the buildings made flickering come-and-go shadows on me. He was prejudiced only when sex came into the picture. I could handle that. "I'm not going in completely helpless," I said, warming slightly. "I can make a protection circle around myself if I have to. But I'm really an earth witch. Which might make things difficult as it's harder to bring someone in if you can't do the same magic." I made a face he didn't see. "Then again, there's no way I can beat Saladan at ley line magic, so it's just as well I'm not even going to try. I'll get him with my earth charms or my foot in his gut."

David brought the car to a slow halt at a red light. Face showing the first signs of interest, he turned to me. "I heard you brought down three ley line assassins."

"Oh, that." I warmed. "I had help with that. The FIB was there."

"You brought Piscary down yourself."

The light changed, and I appreciated him not creeping up on the car ahead of us until it moved. "Trent's security officer helped me," I admitted.

"He distracted him," David said softly. "You were the one who clubbed him into unconsciousness."

Pressing my knees together, I turned to look at him straight on. "How do you know?"

David's heavy jaw tightened and relaxed, but he didn't look from the street. "I talked to Jenks this morning."

"What!" I exclaimed, almost hitting my head on the ceiling. "Is he okay? What did he say? Did you tell him I was sorry? Will he talk to me if I call him?"

David glanced askance at me as I held my breath. Saying nothing, he made a careful turn onto the parkway. "No to everything. He's very upset."

I settled in my seat, flustered and worried.

"You need to thank him if he ever talks to you again,"

David said tightly. "He thinks the world of you, which is the main reason I didn't go back on my agreement to get you in to see Saladan."

My gut twisted. "What do you mean?"

He hesitated while he passed a car. "He's hurt you didn't trust him, but he didn't say one bad word about you, even stood up for you when I called you a flighty airhead."

My throat tightened and I stared out the passenger-side window. I was such an ass.

"He's of the backward opinion that he deserved being lied to, that you didn't tell him because you felt he couldn't keep his mouth shut and that you were probably right. He left because he thought he let you down, not the other way around. I told him you were a fool, and that any partner who lied to me would end up with their throat torn out." David made a puff of scorn. "He kicked me out. Four-inch man kicked me out. Told me if I didn't help you like I said I would, he'd track me down when the weather broke and give me a lobotomy when I slept."

"He could do it," I said, my voice tight. I could hear the threatened tears in it.

"I know he could, but that's not why I'm here. I'm here because of what he didn't say. What you did to your partner is deplorable, but so honorable a soul wouldn't think highly of someone who didn't deserve it. I can't see why he does, though."

"I've have been trying to talk to Jenks for the last three days," I said around the lump in my throat. "I'm trying to apologize. I'm trying to fix this."

"That's the other reason I'm here. Mistakes can be fixed, but if you do it more than once, it's no longer a mistake."

I said nothing, my head starting to hurt as we passed a river-overlook park and pulled onto a side street. David touched his collar, and I read in his body posture that we were almost there. "And it was sort of my fault it came out," he said softly. "Bane has a tendency to make you loose in the lips. I'm sorry about that, but it was still wrong of you."

It didn't matter how it came out. Jenks was furious with me, and I deserved it.

David signaled and turned into a cobbled drive. I tugged at my gray skirt and adjusted my jacket. Wiping my eyes, I sat upright and tried to look professional, not like my world was falling down around me and all I had to depend on was a Were who thought I was the lowest of the low. I'd have given anything to have Jenks on my shoulder making wise-cracks about my new haircut or how I smelled like the bottom of an outhouse. Anything.

"I'd keep my mouth shut if I were you," David said darkly, and I bobbed my head, thoroughly depressed. "My secretary's perfume is in the glove box. Give your nylons a good spray. The rest of you smells okay."

I obediently did as he said, my usual hot abhorrence to take direction from someone squelched in that he thought so little of me. The musty scent of the perfume overpowered the car, and David rolled his window down, grimacing. "Well, you did say…" I muttered when the cold air pooled at my ankles.

"It's going to be quick once we get in there," David said, his eyes watering. "Your vamp partner has five minutes tops before Saladan gets angry about the claim and kicks us out."

I held Mrs. Aver's briefcase on my lap tighter. "She'll be there."

David's only response was a muttered rumble. We wound up a short drive that looped about itself. It had been plowed and swept, and the red clay bricks were damp with snowmelt. At the top of it was a stately house painted white with red shutters and tall, narrow windows. It was one of the few older mansions that had been refurbished without losing its charm. The sun was behind the house, and David parked in the shadows behind a black pickup truck and cut the engine. A curtain at a front window shifted.

"Your name is Grace," he said. "If they want identification, it's in your wallet inside your briefcase. Here." He handed me his glasses. "Wear them."

"Thanks." I set the plastic lenses on my nose, learning that David was farsighted. My head started to hurt and I pulled them lower so I could look at the world over them instead of through them. I felt awful, the butterflies in my stomach as heavy as turtles.

A sigh shifted him, and he reached between our seats for his briefcase in the back. "Let's go."