Pixies were clustered at the stained-glass windows, hovering at the lighter colors and squealing at something outside. A harsh smile came over Ivy. “No. It won’t take much.”

The hard anticipation on her pale oval face worried me. She had come back from visiting Piscary in a very bad mood. Clearly it hadn’t gone well, and I had a feeling she was going to take her frustration out on whoever had abducted that girl. Ivy was rough with vampires who preyed on the underage. Someone was going to spend their holiday in traction.

The phone rang, and Ivy and I froze, looking at each other. “I’ll get it,” I said. “But if it’s not a run, I’ll let the machine pick it up.”

She nodded, heading out the door with her purse. “I’ll warm up the car.”

Taking a quick breath, I jogged to the back of the church. On the third ring the machine engaged. The outgoing message spewed its spiel, and my face tightened. Nick had recorded it for me—I thought it posh for it to appear that we employed a male secretary. Though now, seeing as we were listed with professionals of another sort, it probably only added to the confusion.

My frown deepened when the outgoing message cut off and Nick’s voice continued. “Hey, Rachel?” he said hesitantly. “Are you there? Pick up if you are. I…I was hoping you’d be home. It’s what, about six there?”

I forced my hand to pick up the phone. He was in a different time zone? “Hi, Nick.”

“Rachel.” The relief was thick in his voice, in stark contrast to my flat tone. “Good. I’m glad I caught you.”

Caught me. Yeah. “How are you doing?” I asked, trying to keep the sarcasm from my voice. I was still stinging, hurt and confused.

He took a slow breath. I could hear water in the background and a hiss of something cooking. The soft clink of glasses and the murmur of conversation intruded. “I’m doing okay,” he said. “I’m doing good. I slept really well last night.”

“That’s great.” Why in hell didn’t you tell my ley line practice I was waking you up? You could have been sleeping well here, too.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

My jaw hurt, and I forced my teeth apart. I’m confused. I’m hurt. I don’t know what you want. I don’t know what I want. “Fine,” I said, thinking of Kisten. At least I knew what he wanted. “I’m fine.” My throat hurt. “Want me to get your mail, or will you be home soon?”

“I’ve got a neighbor picking it up. But thanks.”