Nick’s long face went longer as his lips parted. “Why do you care if I’m comfortable?”

True to form, Ivy sneered. “I don’t. You reek, and I don’t want you stinking up the van.”

Brow furrowed, she looked to the shack on the dock. “Hey, old man!” she shouted, her voice echoing on the flat water in the harbor, and Jenks poked his head out of the dock office. “Buy him a shower, will you? We’ve got time.”

We didn’t, but Jenks nodded, vanishing back inside. My wolfen brow furrowed, and Nick didn’t seem happy either, probably guessing we were getting rid of him for a moment. Lifting a cushion, he brought out a pair of gray flannel government-looking sweats and size-eleven sneakers that had been tucked away for a returning Were to slip into. They’d likely be too small, but it was better than what he was wearing. Hunched under his blanket, he tottered to the edge of the boat, halting before Ivy, since she was blocking his path.

“You’re one lucky bastard,” she said, hand on a hip. “I would have let you rot.”

Hand clenching his blanket closed, he edged past her. “Ask me if I care.”

Ivy gathered herself to come back with a remark, but then he reached for a piling to pull himself out and the blanket slipped to show the burn marks. Horrified, she met my gaze.

Unaware that she had seen, Nick clutched his things close and made his meticulous way to a nearby cinder-block building, following the blue-lettered sign that promised showers. The dockmaster ambled out of his office, plastic token in his hand. While the man gave Nick a bar of soap and a sympathetic touch on his shoulder, Jenks made his slow way to us.

Nick’s gaunt, battered silhouette vanished around the corner, bare feet popping against the cement. Turning, I found Ivy beside the captain’s chair. “My God, what did they do to him?” she whispered.

Like I could talk?

Jenks came to an awkward, scuffling halt on the dock above us, squinting as he looked at the island. “We don’t have time for him to shower,” he said, adjusting his clan cap, his Band-Aid gone. He had turned the cap inside out so the emblem was hidden, and it looked good on him. Probably start a new trend.

“He is not getting into Kisten’s van smelling like that.” Ivy’s gaze went to the tarp hiding the gear. “What do you want to do with these?”

Jenks looked at me for direction, and I huffed. “Bring ’em,” he said. “Marshal will want them back. Though I suggest we keep them until we’re clear.”

“Marshal?” Ivy questioned.

Grinning, Jenks resettled the tarp in the limited floor space and started moving the equipment onto it. “A local witch Rachel sweet-talked into letting us rent his equipment. Nice guy. He and Rachel have a date when this is over.”

I whined, and Jenks laughed. Ivy wasn’t amused, and she pushed off from the captain’s chair, saying nothing and avoiding my gaze as she helped stack the gear into the sling of the tarp. Between her vampire strength and Jenks’s pixy stamina, they lifted the tarp with all the equipment onto the dock, the watching people none the wiser for what was in it.