Ignoring the shoe-box-size package, I shuffled through my top drawer for a pair of socks and the black lacy underwear that I hadn’t worn since Marshal and I had broken up. I’d spent yesterday in prison and wanted to feel pretty, damn it. Slipping them on, I wiggled out of the towel and dropped a camisole over my damp head. Jeans next, the tight pair I hadn’t been able to wear comfortably since the solstice. I hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours, and they might fit. The zipper went up with satisfying ease, and I smiled. I wouldn’t recommend prison food as a way to lose weight, but if it was gone, I wasn’t going to complain.

Socks in hand, I sat on my bed and slowly exhaled. Getting them on was going to be a pain. Repainting my toenails was going to be even harder. Maybe Ivy would do it for me.

Matalina’s wings hummed in warning. Adrenaline surged, but she was looking at my door, not out the window. “Rachel?” Ivy called. “I made you a sandwich. Are you decent?”

There is a God, and he’s good to me. My stomach rumbled, and I was suddenly ten times hungrier. I couldn’t hear Nick’s voice anymore, but I hadn’t heard anyone leave either. Still sitting on the bed with my socks, I shouted, “Come in!”

Ivy entered with her head down and balancing a plate with two sandwiches and a bowl of cheese crackers in her hands. “I made you two,” she said, her gray-silk voice carrying soft compassion as she looked up from shutting the door with a foot. “You look hungry.”

I eyed the tuna sandwiches warily. “No Brimstone?”

Her placid brown eyes met mine, the barest hint of dry amusement in them. “No. But I can make you some cookies if you want.”

Shaking my head, I dropped the socks and reached for the plate. I’d eaten Ivy’s cookies before. Laced with medicinal-grade Brimstone, they simultaneously made me hungry and boosted my metabolism. Just what you need when recovering from blood loss, but I was bruised, not anemic. “No thanks,” I said wryly. “I want to sleep tonight.”

But when she sat on the end of my bed, I blinked. She’s staying?

Matalina rose up, her dragonflylike wings unusually loud. “Ivy, if you’re going to talk to Rachel for a while, I’ll just pop out and see if Jenks needs anything.”

Oh. I get it.

Ivy smiled a closed-lipped smile and slid the crackers onto my dresser beside the box from my mom. “He’s in the kitchen with Jax.”

“Thank you.” Matalina left her knitting behind as she darted under the door.