My flat-heeled boots were subdued as I left my room and followed the soft give-and-take murmurs of Kisten and Ivy into the amber-lit sanctuary. I hesitated at the doorway, looking in.

They had woken the pixies, who were flitting everywhere, concentrating about Ivy’s grand piano as they played tag among the wires and stops. There was a faint hum of sound shifting the air, and I realized the vibrations from their wings were making the strings resonate.

Ivy and Kisten stood by the archway to the foyer. She had that same uneasy, defiant look on her that she’d been wearing earlier when she refused to talk to me. Kisten was bent close, clearly concerned, with his hand on her shoulder.

I cleared my throat for their attention, and Kisten’s hand fell. Ivy’s posture shifted back to her usual equanimity, but I could see her shattered confidence underneath.

“Oh, that’s better,” Kisten said as he turned, his eyes lighting briefly on my necklace.

He had unbuttoned his coat, and I ran my eyes appreciatively over him as I approached. No wonder he had wanted to dress me. He looked fabulous: navy Italian pinstripe suit, shiny shoes, hair slicked back and smelling faintly of soap…and smiling at me with an attractive self-assurance. His usual chain was a quick flash hidden behind the collar of his starched white shirt. A tasteful tie was snugged up to his neck, and a watch fob ran from a vest pocket through a buttonhole and then to the other vest pocket. Looking at his trim waist, broad shoulders, and slender hips, there was nothing to argue with. Nothing at all.

Ivy blinked as she took me in. “When did you buy that?” she asked, and I smiled widely.

“Kist picked it out of my closet,” I said brightly, and that would be the only admission of my lack of polish he was going to get.

It was a date, so I went to stand beside Kisten; Nick would have gotten a kiss, but as Ivy and Jenks were hovering—and in Jenks’s case, literally—a little discretion was in order. More importantly, he wasn’t Nick.

Jenks landed on Ivy’s shoulder. “Do I need to say anything?” the pixy asked Kisten, his hands on his hips to look like a protective father.

“No, sir,” Kisten said, entirely serious, and I fought to keep a smile from me. The picture of a four-inch pixy threatening a six-foot living vampire would have been ridiculous if Kisten weren’t taking him seriously. Jenks’s warning was real and very enforceable. The only thing more unstoppable than fairy assassins were pixies. They could rule the world if they wanted.

“Good,” Jenks said, apparently satisfied.

I stood by Kisten and rocked back and forth on my flat heels twice, staring at everyone. No one said a word. This was really weird. “Ready to go?” I finally prompted.