He seemed to think about that. "Then one of you needs to learn to bend." As if that was all there was to it. "To become second."
I thought of his scion, sent away because it was easier to do this without her here. "Neither of us will," I said. "That's why we can live together. Leave. Ivy. Alone."
A small noise came from him. "I was talking about Ivy bending, not you."
I shook my head, disgusted. "That's what I love about her," I said. "If she bends, I walk away. If I bend, she gets nothing but a shell."
His brow furrowed and the fire snapped as he thought. "Are you sure?" he asked, and I nodded, not sure if it would save or damn us. "Then maybe this won't work," he said distantly.
Jenks, silent until now, dropped the chopstick. "It will!" he protested as it clattered. "I mean, Rachel has found out so much already. She's working with a wise demon. She'll find a way for Ivy to keep her soul!"
"Jenks, don't," I said, but Cormel was thinking, even as I could see his unease that the wisdom to further his species would come from demons.
"Al might know a way for souls to be retained after death," Jenks pleaded, his angular features scrunched up in fear for me.
"Shut up!" I shouted.
Ivy was breathing easier, and I risked a look at her. Her hands were unfisted, but she was still looking at the floor and breathing shallowly.
"Ask your demon," Cormel said as Jeff cautiously came in with a fax. The man glanced at Ivy in alarm, then handed it to Cormel. Without even looking at it, the undead vampire coolly handed it past Ivy to me. "Your AMA."
I shoved it in my pocket. "Thank you."
"What good timing," Cormel said lightly, but I could see everything now. All the pretty talk and clever smiles wouldn't snare me again. "Now we can eat with relaxed stomachs."
Yeah. Right.
I turned to Ivy, and when she met my eyes with a growing band of brown around her pupils, I stood. "Thank you, Rynn, but we're leaving."
Jenks dropped to the arm of the chair and hurriedly wound fabric around himself, his wings drooping and rising as he worked.
"Ivy…," Rynn Cormel said, as if confused, and she backed away from him, closer to me.
"I'm happy," she said softly as she handed me my coat. "Please leave me alone."
We started for the kitchen, Jenks flying heavily behind us as a vanguard, trailing the last of his wrap along instead of sparkles. "There's more here to think about than two people's happiness," Cormel said loudly, and Ivy stopped, her hand on the swinging doors.
"Rachel won't be pushed," she said.
"Then pull her, before someone else does."
As one, we turned and left. Behind us was the sharp clatter of chopsticks and little ceramic dishes hitting the stone fireplace. The kitchen was empty, and I imagined everyone had gone somewhere else and out of Cormel's angry path. Jenks dove for my scarf as I wrapped it about my neck, and I sighed as I recalled how erotic a covered neck was to a vampire. God, I was stupid.
Ivy hesitated at the door to the loading dock. "I'll be right back," she said, a dangerous slant to her eyes.
"Are you sure?" I asked, and she strode away. Uncomfortable, I hustled into the cold garage. We weren't going to get home in the Hummer, so I got my bag out from the backseat, and with a grunt, shoved the door up, panting as the silent night met me. We'd be taking Ivy's bike, and it was going to be a very slow, very cold ride.
But I had to get home. We had to. We both needed to get back to the church and the patterns of behavior that kept us apart and together—sane. I had to call Al before the sun came up and beg for the time off. And now I had to ask him if he knew of a way to save a vampire's soul, because if I didn't, I might find myself dead.
The sound of Ivy's boots brought my attention up, and she strode down the stairs with her arms crossed. "You okay?" I asked as I pulled the tarp from Ivy's bike, and she nodded.
From my scarf came Jenks's snotty "I'm okay, you're okay, Ivy's freaking okay. We're all okay. Can we get the hell out of here?"
Ivy stashed my bag, got on the bike, and turned to look at me, waiting. "Are you going to pull me?" I asked, heart pounding as I stood on the hard cement with my feet going cold in my boots.
Her eyes were like liquid brown in the dim light, and I could see her misery. "No."
I had to trust her. Swinging my leg over, I got on the bike behind her and held on tight as Ivy idled the bike out of the sheltered warmth and into the cold snow of the last of the year.
The kitchen was warm, smelling of brown sugar, chocolate chips, and butter. I was making cookies with the excuse that they would soften Al up, but the reality was, I wanted Jenks to have the chance to get excessively warm. The ride home had been bitterly cold, and though he'd never admit it, Jenks was almost blue by the time Ivy parked her cycle in the garden shed and I hustled into the church with him. His kids had long since tired of playing in the oven's updrafts, but he was still in here, his wings slowly moving back and forth.
