A Perfect Blood
Page 8

Chapter Eight
Garden shoes did not make the best getaway attire, and I was leaving little clumps of dirt as I eased the door shut behind me. Exhaling, I turned, taking in the sunny but wet garden. The trees had lost most of their leaves, but the sun was warm. All the vegetation looked tired and worn, kind of like how I felt, and I tugged my jacket closer. The soft hush of a passing car disturbed the Sunday afternoon, then silence.
"Some bodyguard," I said sourly, thinking he should have been on to me by now. It wasn't as if I was trying to sneak out. I was prepared for trouble and would be fine.
The church sat on an entire city block, the graveyard taking up the lion's share of it. A shoulder-high stone-and-wrought-iron wall encompassed the property, helping separate the living from the dead. A low stone wall divided the mundane witches' garden from the gravestones, but I used almost every inch of the place for my plants. From where I stood on the porch, I could see over it to the homes and cars on the street behind the church. There was a bus stop, too. That was where I was headed.
Arms wrapped around myself, I stomped down the wooden steps and into the witches' garden. Ivy's grill was covered, and the picnic table, scarred by a past curse, was soggy from last night's rain. Rex, Jenks's cat, was sitting on the knee-high stone wall where Jenks had made his new summer bachelor home. Her tail was twitching, and figuring that her tiny master was inside the wall, I gave her a wide berth. But the stupid cat stood, her back arched and her tail crooked as she minced along the top of the wall to me, and I waved for her to stay. Rex had avoided me like the plague for our first year together, but now, when I wanted her to stay, I was her favorite toy. Figures.
"Stay there, you stupid cat," I whispered, then froze when I heard Jenks's voice, faint on the still air. "It's a beautiful coat, Belle," I heard him plead. "I'm sorry. No one has ever made me anything except my mother and my wife, and I didn't know what to say when you gave it to me. Let me see it again."
"No," Belle said, her lisping voice harder to distinguish above the whispering of the leaves. "I have my pride. I'll give it to my brother. Oh, that's right. You killed him."
"You killed my wife," Jenks replied. "Let me see the damn coat! I want to wear the Tink-blasted thing!"
I couldn't help my smile, deciding that as long as Ivy knew where I was there was no need to bother him. Besides, he didn't have his winter clothes on, and it was cold. Giving Rex a scratch under her chin, I stepped over the low wall, starting through the tombstones for the distant wall. There were two bars in the rusted car gate that had been wedged apart just enough for a size eight tall to squeeze through.
A feeling of excitement began to push out my melancholy. I hadn't been on a run in ages. Not a run run - I ran regularly at the zoo before they opened, Wayde in tow. I meant a bad-guy run, where the adrenaline flowed and both the brain and the body got a workout. Ivy had been trying to include me in her work, but I'd not had much business since I'd been labeled a demon, and I missed it. But now, as I slunk through the graveyard, the hair on the back of my neck prickling from being in sight of Wayde's windows, I felt a thrill down to my dew-wet toes. If he didn't see me, then my gut feeling that he wasn't up to this was right, and I needed to stop depending on him.
The bus stop was about thirty yards away - and right in Wayde's line of sight should he be looking. I thought it inexcusable that I could have gotten this far without him knowing it, and a feeling of justifiable anger suffused me.
The choking gurgle of the bus brought my head up, and I peered down the street, heart pounding. It was early. Smiling, I ran for the fence, the bus passing me as I slipped between the rusty bars. "Wait!" I shouted, the bars leaving a long red stain on my jacket as I shoved my way through, waving my arm as I ran. Man . . . I hoped they'd pick me up. Sometimes they didn't. You take the hair off the first three rows with a misfired charm and they never forget. "Hey! I'm running here!" I shouted, garden shoes squishing.
I pounded after it, and the bus finally stopped. "Rachel!" I heard Wayde bellow, and I, grinning, didn't turn. It was about time. I knew I should stop, but I was burning with the need to rub his nose in something. "Rachel! You wicked little witch! Get back here!"
The bus's door was open, and I grabbed the handle, swinging myself in. "Thanks," I said breathlessly to the driver, then turned to wave at Wayde as I stood on the lowest step. He was in his boxers and a white T-shirt, standing on the porch steps with his hair wild and his beard matted. Clearly he had expected me to be a good little girl after yesterday's show of masculine strength. He was still in his jammies.
Wayde just about lost it, stomping down the stairs and heading across the wet grass in his bare feet. Crap, I had to get out of here.
Skittering up the steps, I dug a couple of dollars out of my bag and dropped it into the plastic piggy bank. "Thanks again," I said to the sour-looking man driving the bus. He frowned, which made his deeply wrinkled face even more crevassed.
"Is he after you, miss?" he asked, and I smiled and nodded.
"Yep. Mind making this thing move? He's a bastard before his first cup of coffee."
With a tired sigh, the man closed the door and revved the engine. He put it into motion, and I swayed my way to the very back seat so I could watch Wayde skitter through the graveyard, trying not to walk on anyone's grave. "You have to move faster than that if you want to keep up with me, wolfman," I said under my breath, my mood much improved as I plunked myself down.
From the other side of the bus came a soft masculine throat clearing. "Boyfriend?"
My hand smacked into my shoulder bag and the reassuring presence of my splat gun. Startled, I turned to the other back seat and saw a young man in a short brown coat. By the tattoo peeking out of his collar, he was a Were. His tousled hair was black and wavy. A thick stubble was on his face, jet black and sexy. His smile was sly, and it went right to my gut and twisted.
I resettled myself, glad I had my jacket even if I was right over the heater. "Boyfriend? No. But he acts like it sometimes." I looked out the back window, seeing Wayde making his way back to the church, his head down and his arms swinging. Yeah, he was mad. "I need some time alone," I said as the bus turned the corner and he was gone.
"Oh, sorry," the man said as he shifted his body angle away from me.
"Not from everyone," I said, realizing what I'd sounded like. "Just . . . everyone at home. You know?"
He turned back to face me, his smile warming me through my thin jacket. "Trex," he said, extending his hand across the aisle.
Oh my God, I probably looked a mess, but I reached for his hand, hoping my fingers had warmed up as I took it. "Hi, Trex. I'm Rachel."
Trex's eyes went from my tattoo to the bracelet of charmed silver peeping out of my cuff, then back to the tattoo fluff on my neck. "You're Rachel Morgan? Black dandelion pack? Let's have a squint at it."
Wow, word gets around fast. Flustered, I turned and yanked my shirt aside to show him.
Trex drew close for an instant, then pulled back, whistling in appreciation. "That's new," he said, and I spun back around. "Emojin?"
I nodded, propping myself against the back of the next seat up when we hit a bump. We were heading into Cincy over the bridge. There wasn't much traffic on a Saturday afternoon, and we'd be right downtown in a matter of minutes if we didn't have to stop for anyone. That was cool. I could get a coffee before I headed to the FIB. My own first cup was still sitting untouched on the kitchen counter. "Yes. She inked me last night."
"Quality." His eyes fixed on mine, he pulled his coat and shirt aside to show an hourglass broken by a thorny rose vine. Red sand spilled out like blood. "Blood sand," he said. "Good to meet you."
"It's a pleasure," I said, deciding that it was. I was never going to see this man again, but that was part of the joy. He was here, I was here, we were sharing a moment, and it wouldn't impact my future one bit.
My phone began ringing in my back pocket. It was on vibrate, but I think Trex could hear it, since his eyes went to it. I ignored it, smiling at him. "Your phone is ringing," Trex finally said, and I sighed, reaching around to my back pocket and slumping in the seat when I saw the church's number.
"It's Wayde," I said glumly as I dropped it into my shoulder bag, wondering if he knew how to track me with a live phone. "The guy in boxers."
"You need some help ditching him?"
Just the offer meant the world to me, and I gave him a bright smile. We were already among Cincy's tall buildings. I could run my errand and be back in a few hours, easy. "Thanks, but no," I said as I stood, seeing Junior's just down the block. "I'm good. It was a pleasure."
He nodded, his lips still curved up, but with disappointment in his eyes. He had no idea how much that meant to me, and I could have hugged him. I'd been shunned and reviled for so long that even this harmless flirting felt great. I could not go back, but I could go forward. David was right. A show of pack membership had rubbed out the stigma of being a demon. At least for Trex here.
"Have a good run," he said as the bus came to a stop and I headed for the door.
I didn't think he meant my errand to the FIB, but rather a run run. He knew what I was doing. I got off the bus, wishing I'd worn a heavier coat as I stood in the cool wind coming off the river. The door shut, and the bus took off. I resisted the urge to wave to Trex, but barely. I smiled up at the bright sky, enjoying being alone while surrounded by thousands. Maybe I could grab a late breakfast somewhere after dumping off the amulets.
I walked away, feeling sassy despite my garden shoes squishing. Coffee. Yeah. That sounded good.
The chimes on the handle reminded me of Jenks's kids' laughter as I pushed the glass door open. Warm air smelling of coffee and ginger enveloped me, and I immediately felt warmer. I paused just past the threshold to take in the familiar tables and booths, and the weird pictures of babies dressed up as fruit and flowers. I still didn't get it.
I was leaving mud behind as I went to place my order. Junior's had only recently opened a drive-through window, and though it was busy outside, the tables held only a few people. Most of them looked like they were drumming up business, their advertising logos prominently showing as they interviewed potential acolytes.
Rubbing the cold from my arms, I went to the pastry shelves, deciding I'd treat myself. I hadn't had breakfast yet, much less my first coffee.
"Hi, what can I get for you today?"
I looked up to see Junior - or Mark, rather - with a bright red manager tag on his apron. He was smiling professionally at me, and I smiled back, but then his expression clouded. "What are you doing here?" he barked as he recognized me.
My smile faded. "Getting a coffee." I pulled myself to my full height in my soggy, muddy garden shoes. "I'm not shunned anymore. Okay?" The patrons looked up, and I lifted my chin. Squinting at him, I put my palm on the counter, making sure my band of charmed silver hit it with a small clink.
Mark looked at it. He was a witch - I'd seen him make a circle before - and he knew what it was. But like everyone else, he probably thought that the coven of moral and ethical standards had put it on me to keep me from doing any magic.
"I can take it off if it bothers you," I said lightly, running a finger along the inside.
Mark frowned and backed up a step. I figured he'd put himself in an uninvoked circle - having them behind the counter was standard practice in case of attempted armed robberies. My good mood was falling apart.
"What do you want?"
It was flat and hostile, but I couldn't blame him - much. Last year, I'd almost trashed the place trying to catch a banshee and her psychotic serial-killer husband. Then just a few months ago, my ex-boyfriend Nick had caused a scene to give me time to escape a member of the coven. Mark hadn't known it was me then, but the papers had made it public. It made me wonder if Junior's had been built on some kind of "galactic time-warp continuum." Everything seemed to start or end here.
"I'd like two of the mini scones," I said, then added, "No, make that three." I'd take one back to Jenks and the kids. "And a grande latte, double espresso, Italian blend. Light on the froth, skim milk." Whole milk would have been better, but the scones were rich.
Mark was writing this all on the side of a cup, which he then tossed to another barista. "You want your scones warmed up?" he asked, his tone stiff, but at least he was civil.
Smiling insincerely, I said, "Yes, please," then handed him the ten I had waiting.
He took my money and gave me my change. I hesitated, then decided against the tip.
Watching to be sure he didn't hex my food, I slid down the counter. From the other end of the coffeehouse came a cheerful "Double espresso, low froth, low cal. Grande. On the counter!"
That had to be mine, but Mark was taking my scones out of the oven and shoving them in a bag. His brow was furrowed as he folded the bag over and extended it to me.
"I got that banshee, by the way," I said.
His expression darkened. "I heard someone died."
I yanked the bag out of his grip. "Tom Bansen," I said, since the papers hadn't given out his name. "He was a black witch, working in the I.S. as a mole. The nice lady banshee who was sitting in your coffeehouse sucking in everyone's aura killed him, not me. It took me a week to recover from her myself. You have a great day - Mark."
I turned to the tables, my good mood trashed. Yeah, that might have been a little sarcastic, but the fading adrenaline was making me depressed. Leaving chunks of dirt behind, I went back to the pickup counter for my coffee. I'd been thinking about taking it outside and into the cold sunshine, but staying in here might tick Mark off. My thoughts went back to Trent once saying that I made decisions based on what would irritate people, and I frowned.
"Cinnamon," I muttered, turning my back on the door to sprinkle a heavy layer on the light foam. Crap, I'd forgotten to put raspberry in it.
Sighing, I turned back around to find a chair where I could sit and glare at Mark for a while. But then I blinked, smiled, and walked slowly to Wayde, sitting nice as you please at one of the small round tables with his back to the wall. He was scowling, and his hairy legs showed above his biker boots. He was still in his boxers, too, and he looked like a crazy man in the T-shirt that he'd slept in. Outside I could see Ivy's bike, her helmet on the seat.
Clearly cold, he rubbed a hand over his beard, untidy and flat on one side. I hadn't known you could have bed beard, but that's what it was. When he didn't take the time to clean up, he was a raggedy man.
Mark had noticed him, too, and was talking to the barista as if ready to call the cops. Whatever. The man had had worse in his store before than an angry Were in his pajamas.
I set my cup down and smiled at Wayde, feeling vastly better. "Nice boots."
Wayde's expression became even more sour. "You done running?" he said tightly. "Have fun this morning?"
I sat across from him so we both could look out the window. "I wasn't running away from you, and yes, I did have fun this morning. It felt good to get out by myself."
He snorted, and I tore open my bag of warm scones and set it between us. "You want one?" I asked, and he eyed me in disbelief, sitting up and looking even more uncomfortable and unkempt. "Here, you look colder than me," I added, and I slid my coffee to him. If truth be told, I was feeling kind of guilty. I had not snuck out, but I hadn't let him know, either.
The coffee he accepted, and I watched him take a careful sip, easing back when he decided it was good. "You are an ass," he said, shoulders hunched as he glared at me from over his cup. "No wonder your mother is crazy."
My first feeling of goodwill died, but I calmly took a bite of my scone, enjoying the tart lemon icing. "My mother isn't crazy," I said as I chewed. "She simply has a harder time than most reconciling her reality with everyone else's reality. You sure you don't want one of these? I got three."
He only glared, and kept glaring, his brown eyes hard. "I should throw you over my shoulder and take you home right now. I can't believe you left without telling me."
"Okay," I said, head tilting. "Let's talk about that."
"Didn't last night teach you anything?" he barked at me, and my resolve stiffened.
"Other than you're a bully? No, not really."
Wayde jabbed a short, powerful finger at me. "If you want to go out, fine, but give me ten minutes to get dressed."
"It was eleven in the morning!" I said, not caring that people were looking at us. "You never did get me in the car last night. You tell me you can keep me alive, but you aren't dressed like you're supposed to be, or paying attention like my dad is paying you to do. I had people over and you never came down. Never woke up as far as I could tell! You aren't taking this seriously, and yes, I've got a problem with it."
"Is that what you think?" he said sharply. "That I'm lazing about? Ignorant of everything that's going on?"
"If the bone fits, chew it," I said, heart pounding but voice calm. "The only reason I'm alive is because of my friends. I know I'm vulnerable, but I'm not helpless, and I don't like being manhandled. The only reason you got me over your shoulder and down those stairs last night without a broken nose and a fractured wrist is because I didn't want to hurt you!"
"Is that so?"
"Yes. That is so, you big douche bag. As far as I'm concerned, you can walk out of here and explain to my mom why you're not cashing her checks - bud-dy."
I sat back, ticked. Damn it, I still hadn't gotten any coffee. Now I was going to have to drink whatever the FIB had in their back offices.
Frowning, Wayde looked at my bag. He knew I'd made up some new charms, knew I was prepared this time, knew that he might end up on the floor, unconscious, with no ID and in his underwear, the I.S. responding. Growling something it was probably just as well I didn't hear, he pulled his coffee closer, almost spilling it.
"I'm going to finish my coffee," he muttered. "If you aren't on the back of that bike when I walk out of here, I quit - I will quit, Rachel. I have never worked with a more annoying, self-centered - "
"I am not self-centered," I interrupted. "I gave you my coffee, didn't I?"
" - irritating flake of a woman in my entire life," Wayde finished. "And trust me, I've seen some fool women while working your dad's shows. You think I'm fixing up that belfry because I like heights? I knew Marshal was on the church's grounds a good three minutes before you did. I also knew exactly who he was, having looked him up the night before after you mentioned having him over. The license numbers matched, and though you are right that I probably should have come down, I thought the risk less than your need to have the illusion of not being watched all the time."
Excuse me?
"I am good at what I do," he said, pointing a finger at me. "So good that it looks like I'm not. You think your dad would send some jerk-ass wannabe to protect his only daughter?"
My face was cold. Embarrassed, I scrunched down in the seat. I needed a crowbar to get my foot out of my mouth, I'd jammed it so far down. I had no idea he had moved into the belfry for that reason, much less that he was screening people. "But you keep making newbie mistakes," I offered lamely. "Breaking that guy's nose yesterday. Running after me in your boxers."
Wayde smirked, coffee in hand as he leaned back, his eyes scanning, still scanning. "I broke that guy's nose because he disrespected you and it pissed me off," he said, making me feel about three inches tall. "That, and to get that undead vampire's eyes off Ivy. She's come too far out of her addiction to be pulled back in by a bored lamprey. The boxers, though . . ." He hesitated, the rims of his ears going as red as his straggly beard. "You got me there. That was a mistake. I should have been dressed. I never imagined you would leave. Without telling me."
His accusation was clear, and I winced. "I'm really sorry," I said, meaning it. "I am an oblivious ass, and I don't blame you if you leave. Please stay. I won't doubt you again."
My eyes flicked up as Wayde leaned forward over the table. He was smiling. That was one of the things I loved about Weres. You didn't have to say much, but you had to mean it. "Apology accepted," he said, scratching his stubble like a dorm student after an all-nighter. "If you're ready to work with me now, I have just one question."
I waited, cringing. He could ask me anything right now, and with me feeling the way I did, I'd answer him with self-humiliating honesty. I'd been wrong, so wrong, and yet he sat there ready to let it go. I owed my dad a huge thank-you and Wayde a great deal more respect.
"Tell me why you walked off this morning," he said, and I blinked, caught off guard.
Wayde put one arm on the table. "Walking out like that was stupid." I took an angry breath, and he added, "All right. You're not as helpless as I've been making out . . . obviously." He frowned at my shoulder bag. "But what you did was the out-of-the-ordinary crap that smart people die from. I want to know why. I can't fill in the gaps of your security if I don't know how you're going to react."
My shoulders slumped. Shit.
Wayde leaned closer. "What happened?"
Avoiding him, I sought out Mark, on the floor arranging shiny bags of coffee. "Hey, can you make another one of these?" I asked him when our eyes met. "And put a shot of raspberry in it?"
Saying nothing, Mark frowned and stiffly went behind the counter. I looked at Wayde across from me, startled by the expression of sympathy in his eyes. "I, ah, had to get out of there," I said, and Wayde leaned back, waiting.
"To prove you could after I got the best of you last night," he said, and I shook my head.
"Yes. No. I left because everyone is moving forward in their lives. Without me."
Wayde rolled his eyes. "You left because your roommate is sharing blood and having sex with someone besides you?" he mocked. "She's a vampire! You don't want that. What's really bothering you?"
"Just forget I said anything," I said, feeling hurt as Mark approached with a grande. Both Wayde and I were silent as he set the cup down and I handed the guy a five. "Thanks, Mark. Keep the change," I said, miserable as I took a sip of my wonderful raspberry coffee, feeling it go all the way down. It sat in my stomach like lead.
Wayde waited with the patience of a wolf, his arms across his chest and a tightness to his lips. I fiddled with my coffee cup, finally saying, "Ivy came home smelling like a friend. She came home happy," I said louder when he started making noises of disbelief again. "And I'm glad for that. She deserves it. And Jenks."
I looked at the table and pushed my cup around some more. "Jenks is never going to find another person like Matalina to share his life with, but seeing him and Belle together . . . They fit, you know?" I said, not caring if he didn't get it. "I used to be in there with them. I'm seeing me starting to slide out. It needs to happen, but I don't like it."
Unfortunately, that was the truth. They were growing, and I wasn't. Or rather, I wasn't growing in the direction I wanted.
"People change," Wayde offered hesitantly, but it was obvious that he didn't get it.
"Tell me about it." I took another sip of coffee, feeling sorry for myself even as I enjoyed the rich, sweet caffeine. "I used to be the one changing and they were the ones trying to keep up. Now I'm sitting still and they're the ones moving on. Without me."
"Waah, waah, waah." Wayde reached for a scone, the bag crackling.
The Turn take it, I'd opened up to him, and he thought I was being self-centered. "Forget I said anything, okay?" I said, wishing I had kept my mouth shut and let him believe I'd left because I was mad about last night. "I'm not going to shrink down and be a pixy, and I'm not going to sign my will over to a vampire, even if I do love her. It would destroy both of us."
Wayde's chewing stopped.
"This is good," I insisted, my eyes on the torn bag as I folded it up around Jenks's scone. "All of it. Jenks and Ivy. It's good. They will live longer, happier lives without me, and I'm glad." I just wish it didn't hurt so much.
"I understand." Wayde put his hand on mine, stopping me from crushing Jenks's scone. "I grew up surrounded by big egos, Rachel, and I get it."
I pulled away from him, shoving Jenks's scone into my bag. "I do not have a big ego."
"Yes you do," he said, wiping the crumbs from his beard and chuckling. "It's probably how you survived living with Ivy. Get over it. You've got a big heart to match, and your dad is just as bad. But as you say, they're getting on with their lives and you aren't. Why do you suppose that is?"
Staring at him, I flopped back against the seat. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be sitting here with you in your pj's, drinking coffee."
And still he smiled, looking far too disorganized to be giving me advice. "Jenks and Ivy know their lives are going to be here. Right now and today," he said, tapping the tip of his finger on the table. "They're making decisions to move forward. Ivy is letting go of her past - that means you - and finding partners who fulfill her emotional, intellectual, and physical needs. Jenks is doing the same. You aren't, because you know in your gut that you won't find what you need here."
The sweet coffee in me seemed to go sour, and I stiffened. "Beg pardon?"
He shrugged and leaned back out of easy reach, looking grungy and disheveled. "For a smart woman, you are clueless sometimes. You're a demon."
Frowning, I glanced over the coffeehouse to make sure no one had heard him. "You want to say that a little louder, maybe?"
His teeth showing in a quick grin, he took a sip of coffee, clearly thinking he had the upper hand again. "I don't blame you for fighting it at first, but you're a demon and you need to accept that. All this about Kalamack giving you a choice that really isn't one aside. It's all you got, woman. Be the demon. The more you try to make the demon a witch, the more you hurt yourself. Why not try it the other way around? See what happens. If it doesn't work, they'll still be here. Waiting for you."
His attention was on my charmed silver bracelet, and I covered it up. It sounded so simple. Maybe he was right.
Wayde let a hand hit the table, making me jump. "Never mind," he said in a tired voice. "Don't listen to me. I'm just pissed you snuck out. You belong here with Ivy and Jenks. Maybe all you need is some new friends. Some who you can just . . . hang with for a while with no strings attached."
My lips quirked. No strings attached wasn't how I worked. "But not you, obviously," I said, and Wayde took another sip of coffee.
"Obviously. Rachel, you are one crazy bitch. But I like you. Your loyalty impresses me. It makes putting up with the rest of your crap worth it."
"Gee, thanks, Wayde." I lifted my cup to him in a salute. "From you, I'll take that as a compliment." Again the coffee slipped into me, and the tightness in my shoulders finally started to ease. "So, ah, how did you find me?"
Wayde snorted. "I have the bus schedules and routes memorized, and you left your coffee on the counter. There was only one place you'd be," he said, and I sighed. When I read a person wrong, I really get it wrong. "Your phone is ringing."
Yes, it was ringing, humming at the bottom of my bag. It had been for the last couple of minutes. It was probably Jenks, ticked that I'd gone out without him. For crying out loud, Ivy knew where I was.
"Yup," I said, my expression bland as I tugged my bag closer and reached in to get the phone, the multiple flashes of green from the amulets catching my attention as my aura touched them. I glanced at the incoming number, then froze. It was the church, but what gave me pause were the amulets.
They were active - and pinging on something.
"Oh my God!" I said as I dropped the humming phone into my lap and snatched up an amulet, not believing it when the green held steady. "It's my scatter-detection amulet," I said, pulse racing as I pulled it out, thrilled. "Holy crap, it's working! Wayde, it's working! Here, hold it!"
"What, me?" he exclaimed as I shoved the amulet at him, almost knocking over his coffee. "I don't know how to work this thing."
"Just hold it," I said as I fumbled for the phone and flipped it open. "If you have an aura, it works. Damn! I can't believe it's working! Somewhere within a mile or two is something linked to that poor man they strung up in Washington Park."
From behind the counter, Mark slammed something shut, clearly having heard me.
Wayde was looking at the amulet as if it were a chunk of rotting flesh, gingerly cradling it in two hands as I flipped the phone open. "You said you weren't going to go out to any sites unless they were secure."
"The I.S. and the FIB will be there," I said, excited. "Besides, HAPA is long gone. We're going to find an empty room unless we're really lucky." The receiver clicked open. "Ivy?"
"No, it's me," Jenks said, his tone sounding tinny over the phone lines. "What the hell do you think you're doing going out without Wayde? He's more ticked than a shaved cat."
"I know," I said, looking at the uncomfortable Were sitting across from me. "He's with me. We're cool. Ivy knew where I was, so what's the big deal?"
"You ditched me!" he accused, and I winced.
"You didn't have your winter clothes on, and I had to catch the bus!" I said, then lowered my voice. "Wake up Ivy, will you? And get your working blacks on. The scatter-detection charms went active. I'm at Junior's with Wayde."
"Tink's little red panties, Rache! You ditching us?"
No more than everyone seems to be ditching me, I thought, then shoved my mini pity party away. "Did I not just say put your working clothes on? Get Ivy and get out here. I'm calling Glenn next, and then Nina." I glanced at Wayde. "Could you bring out a pair of jeans and a shirt for Wayde while you're at it?"
Jenks's snort told me we were okay. "Yeah, I got it," he said, his kids shrieking in the background. "I'll ask Belle to watch my kids."
"I'll wait for you here as long as I can, but if the FIB or the I.S. gets here first, I'll be with them," I said, wondering if I should try Glenn at home. He might be off shift, but he'd come in for this, long night or not.
"Gotcha, Rache!" he said cheerfully, and hung up.
I cleared the phone and started scrolling for Glenn's home number. I'd try there first. I looked up when Wayde chuckled. "What?" I said, blinking at him.
"You're funny," he said, draping the amulet over my neck and tweaking my nose. "I'm going to see if they have a disposable shaver in the bathroom. Think about what I said, okay?"
He stood, and I stared at him.
"About having casual friends?" he added, looking back at me. "They don't make the pain any less when you move on, but they help cover it up." He hesitated, but I didn't know what to say.
"Don't run off, okay?" he finally added, looking good as he made his confident, casual, and scruffy way to the men's room, exchanging a masculine greeting with the barista as he went. And what did he mean by think "about having casual friends"? That hadn't been an invitation . . .
Had it?