He made a scoffing laugh and rose. “Did you expect anything different? He’s going to use everything and everyone he can to manipulate you. He’s a master vampire.” Putting his hands on the table, he leaned toward Ivy. “It’s what they do.”

Cold, I sent my gaze down to the river below. It didn’t matter if Piscary was in jail or not. All he had to do was say the word, and his minions would not only bring Ivy in line but get me out of his hair as well. Expensive, but effective.

But Ivy pulled her head up, shaking it in reassurance before turning her damp eyes to her father. “Dad, he said he’s going to start calling on Erica.”

The man’s face went ashen to make the small fever scars stand out starkly. Relief that Piscary wasn’t targeting me flashed through me, then guilt that I could feel such a thing. “I’ll talk to him,” he whispered, the worry in his voice for his innocent, so-alive daughter clear.

I felt sick. In their conversation were the dark, ugly shadows of the hidden pacts older children made to each other to protect a younger, innocent sibling from an abusive parent. The feeling solidified when her dad repeated softly, “I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you.”

All of us seemed to draw away in an uncomfortable silence. It was time to go. Ivy stood first, quickly followed by me. I grabbed my coat from the back of the chair and shrugged into it. Ivy’s dad rose slowly, seeming twice as tired as when we came in. “Ivy,” he said as he came close. “I’m proud of you. I don’t agree with what you’re doing, but I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Smiling a close-lipped smile in relief, she gave him a hug. “We gotta go. I’ve got a run tonight.”

“Darvan’s girl?” he asked, and she nodded, the hint of guilt and fear on her still. “Good. You keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll talk to Piscary and see what I can work out.”

“Thanks.”

He turned to me. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Rachel.”

“Same here, Mr. Randal.” I was glad the vampire talk seemed to be over. We could all pretend to be normal again; hide the ugliness under the five-thousand-dollar rug.

“Wait, Ivy. Here.” The man reached into his back pocket and pulled out a worn wallet, turning himself from a vampire into just another dad.

“Dad,” Ivy protested. “I’ve got my own money.”

He smiled with half his mouth. “Think of it as a thank-you for watching Erica at the concert. Have lunch on me.”

I said nothing as he shoved a hundred dollar bill into Ivy’s hand, pulling her forward into a one-armed hug. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning,” he said softly.