There was a thump from the back bedroom, and Ivy came out in her bathrobe, hair in disarray, and hunched like a bridge troll. Snarling at Nick about the noise, and with a hand over her face, she limped past Jenks and me to vanish into the bathroom. Immediately the shower went on. The clean scent of oranges slipped under the door with the steam. I didn’t want to know what she’d done last night to be limping today. I didn’t.

Guilt-strewn and weary, I sat at the table. Jax found the ounce-sized container of sea monkey food, and Jenks stopped him, explaining he couldn’t feed them since they hadn’t hatched yet. Jax belligerently pointed out two bouncers, naming them Jin and Jen. The small pixy started to glow, which attracted the brine shrimp, and Jax had a fit of delight when they bounced closer. I couldn’t help but smile. It was still on me when I turned, finding Nick awkwardly waiting for me. My smile faded, and he clenched his jaw.

“The truck is set, Ray-ray,” he said with a false cheerfulness. “It will look like a defect when the air bag doesn’t work.” He winced. “I, uh, couldn’t let a truck run into me—even if I knew I was going to wake up alive.”

“Trust is the difference between you and us Inderlanders,” Jenks said loudly, popping the lid to the sea monkey food. Jax grabbed a handful the size of a pinhead and dropped it in with encouraging words, enticing Jin and Jen to the surface with a bright glow. This was a hell of a lot safer pet for a pixy than the kitten, and I wondered if that was why Jenks had bought them.

I stifled a sigh, turning it into a yawn. I knew Nick wasn’t keen on his truck being the sacrificial vehicle, but it wasn’t as if he would be able to drive it again. He was going to be playing dead for the rest of his life. Coward.

“Thanks, Nick,” I said, leaning away with crossed arms and preparing for a fight. “Now would you go out there and hook it back up? I’m riding with Peter. If I’m going to kill him, I’m not going to let that poor boy die alone.”

Thirty-one

Ivy stood just outside the bathroom, wrapped in a white motel towel, short black hair dripping from thin spikes. “You aren’t going to be riding with Peter, Rachel. No fucking way!”

I pressed my lips together and fought to not back up. Okay, so she does swear, but only when extremely pissed.

Jenks had retreated to the living room, looking like he wished he had never barged in on Ivy in the shower, terrified into playing the tattletale when I told him he was going to be running into me right along with Peter. Nick stood beside him in his grease-stained overalls, and they gave the impression of two boys who had jumped in the creek wearing their good go-to-church clothes five minutes before Pa hitched up the horse.