“Thank you, Daddy!” Erica squealed. She flung herself at him, almost knocking her taller father down. In a clatter of boots, she yanked the door to the stairwell open and thumped downstairs. The door arched closed, and Erica’s shouts grew muffled.

The man sighed, his thin shoulders moving. “Just how long were you going to let her beg before you told me you were going?” he asked wryly.

Her eyes on her juice, Ivy smiled. “Long enough that she will listen to me when I tell her to wear her caps or I’ll change my mind.”

A chuckle rose. “You learn well, young grasshopper,” he said, affecting a strong accent.

There was a thumping on the stairs and Erica burst out, eyes black in excitement, chains swinging. “She said yes! Gotta go! Love you, Daddy! Thanks, Ivy!” She made a pair of bunny ears with her fingers, crooking them as she said, “Kiss, kiss!” and darted out of the room.

“Do you have your caps?” her father shouted after her.

“Yes!” she called back, her voice faint.

“Take some of those necklaces off, young lady!” he added, but the door slammed. The quiet was a relief, and I met Ivy’s smile with bemused wonder. Erica could really fill a room.

Ivy’s father put his glass down. His face seemed to take on more wrinkles, and I could see the strain his body was enduring to supply the blood his undead wife needed to stay sane.

I watched Ivy shift her fingers on her glass to spin it where it sat. Slowly her smile faded. “Has she been to see Piscary?” she asked softly, the sudden worry in her voice drawing my attention. This was why Ivy had come to talk to her dad, and as I thought of Erica’s carefree, wild innocence in Piscary’s manipulative embrace, I worried, too.

Ivy’s dad, though, didn’t seem to have a problem with it, taking a slow sip of juice before answering, “Yes. She visits him every two weeks. As is respectful.” My brow pinched at the implied question, and I wasn’t surprised when he followed up with, “Have you?”

Ivy stilled the fingers encircling her glass. Uncomfortable, I looked for a way to excuse myself and go hide in the car. Ivy glanced at me, then her father. He leaned back, waiting. From outside came the rumble of Erica’s car, fading to leave the hum of the clock on the oven the only sound. Ivy took a breath. “Dad, I made a mistake.”

I felt Ivy’s dad’s eyes land on me, even though I was staring out the window trying to divorce myself from the conversation. “We should talk about this when your mother is available,” he said, and I took a quick breath.

“You know,” I said as I got up, “I think I’ll go wait in the car.”