Oh, such a warm and fuzzy thought. “Can you use it?”

Ivy pushed herself from the counter. I leaned back in my chair as she shook the wrap off, grasping the handle of the thin sword and pulling it from the back sheath. It came free with a whisper of ringing steel that tickled my inner ear. Like collapsing silk, her posture melted into a classic pose, her free arm arched over her head and her sword arm bent and extended. Her face was empty as she looked at the wall, her black hair swinging to a slow stop.

I had a freaking vampire samurai warrior for a roommate. This was getting better and better. “And you know how to use it, too,” I said faintly.

She flashed me a smile as she stood and wedged it back into its sheath. “I took lessons from fifth grade through high school,” she said as she set it on the table. “I grew so fast that it was hard to keep my balance. I kept running into things. Mostly people who irritated me. Adolescence is when the faster reflexes kick in. The practice helped, and I stuck with it.”

I licked the salt off my fingers and pushed the popcorn away. I was willing to bet the classes had a good section devoted to self-control. Feeling more relaxed since the candles seemed to be working, I stretched my legs out under the table, wanting some of the coffee. Ivy rummaged in an upper cupboard to bring out her thermos. I eyed the dripping coffee, hoping she wasn’t going to take it all.

“Well,” she said as she filled the metal vacuum bottle with hot water to warm it up. “You look like the vamp who bled the cat.”

“Beg pardon?” I said, stomach clenching.

She turned and dried her hands off on a dishcloth. “Did Nick call?”

“No,” I said flatly.

Her smile widened. Swinging her hair out of her way, she said, “Good.” Then, softly, she repeated, “That’s good.”

This was not where I wanted the conversation to go. Rising, I wiped my palms on my jeans and padded in my bare feet to turn the flame up under the potpourri. Ivy yanked open the fridge and came out with the cream cheese and a bag of bagels. The woman ate as if calories couldn’t stick to her. “No Jenks?” I asked, though the answer was obvious.

“No Jenks. He did talk to me, though.” Her eyes were pinched with frustration. “I told him I knew what Trent was, too, and to get over it. Now he won’t talk to me, either.” She popped the lid on the cream cheese and scraped a knifeful across her bagel. “Do you think we should put an ad in the paper?”

My head rose. “To replace him?” I stammered.