Nick was silent, then, “You can Were, now?” he asked, stress wrinkles crinkling the corners of his eyes. The blue of them seemed faded somehow. “You make a beautiful wolf.”

“Thank you.” I couldn’t leave it at that, and I turned to see him miserable and alone. Damn it, why did I always fall for the underdog? “It was a one-shot deal. I have to twist a new curse if I want to do it again. It’s…not going to happen again.” I had so much black on my soul, I’d never be rid of it. I wanted to blame Nick, but I was the one who took the curse. I could have submitted to the drugs and stuck it out until someone came to rescue my ass. But no-o-o-o. I took the easy way by using a demon curse, and I was going to pay for it dearly.

His head went up and down, not knowing my thoughts but clearly glad I was talking. “So it isn’t like you’re a Were now in addition to being a witch.”

I shook my head, startled when my longer hair brushed my shoulders. He knew the only way to become a Were was to be born one; he was trying to keep the conversation going.

Ivy came to the door, smelling of the fixative and wiping the gray from her fingers with a rag. “Here,” she said, handing the old plate through. “If you look in the console, there should be an altered registration taped to the top. Can you switch them out?”

“You bet.” Swell. Let’s add falsifying legal documents to the list, I thought, but I took the Kentucky plate and screwdriver, giving her two amulets in their place. “These are for you and Jenks. Make sure he puts it on. I don’t care what he says it makes him smell like.”

Ivy’s long fingers curved around them, shifting so they dangled from the cord and wouldn’t effect her. “Scent disguise? Good thinking—for you.” Showing the faintest blush of nervousness, she handed one of them back. “I’m not wearing one.”

“Ivy,” I protested, having no clue why she’d never accept any of my spells or charms.

“They don’t know what I smell like, and I’m not wearing it!” she said, and I put up a hand in surrender. Immediately her brow smoothed, and she dug in a pocket for the keys to the van, handing them to me through the window. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “If I’m not out in four minutes, go.” I took a breath to protest, and she added, “I mean it. Come rescue me by all means, but plan it out, don’t burst in with your hair flying and in flip-flops.”

A half smile came over me. “Four minutes,” I said, and she walked away. I watched her in the side mirror. Her shoulders were hunched and her head was down—and then she was gone.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” I said.

“What?” Nick said softly. “That she’s walking into a trap?”