His faint tone of acceptance eased my shoulders another notch. “Not really. It just starts about six hours later than yours.”

Wanting ketchup for my fries, I levered myself up and went to the fridge. I hesitated in my reach for the red bottle. Ivy caught my eye, shrugging after I pointed to it. Yeah, I thought. He was invading our lives. He ate the pizza last night. Why should Ivy and I suffer because of him? That decided, I pulled it out and set the bottle on the table with a bold thump. Much to my disappointment, Glenn didn’t notice.

“So,” Ivy said, reaching across the table and taking the ketchup. “You’re going to baby-sit Rachel today? Don’t take her on the bus. They won’t stop for her.”

He glanced up, starting as Ivy laced her burger with the red sauce. “Uh.” He blinked, clearly having lost his thought. His eyes were fixed upon the ketchup. “Yes. I’m going to show her what we have so far on the murders.”

A smile quirked the corner of my mouth at a sudden thought. “Hey, Ivy,” I said lightly. “Pass me the clotted blood.”

Not missing a beat, she pushed the bottle across the table. Glenn froze. “Oh my God!” he whispered harshly, his face going sallow.

Ivy snickered, and I laughed. “Relax, Glenn,” I said as I squirted ketchup over my fries. I lounged in my chair, giving him a sly look as I ate one. “It’s ketchup.”

“Ketchup!” He pulled his paper place mat with his food closer. “Are you insane?”

“Nearly the same stuff you were slurping last night,” Ivy said.

I pushed the bottle toward him. “It won’t kill you. Try some.”

His eyes riveted to the red plastic, Glenn shook his head. His neck was stiff, and he pulled his food closer. “No.”

“Aw, come on, Glenn,” I coaxed. “Don’t be a squish. I was kidding about the blood.” What’s the point of having a human over if you can’t jerk him around a little?

He stayed sullen, eating his burger as if it were a chore, not an enjoyable experience. But without ketchup, it might be a job. “Look,” I said persuasively as I edged closer and turned the bottle around. “Here’s what’s in it. Tomatoes, corn syrup, vinegar, salt…” I hesitated, frowning. “Hey, Ivy. Did you know they put onion and garlic powder in ketchup?”

She nodded, wiping a stray bit of ketchup off the corner of her mouth. Glenn looked interested, leaning closer to read the fine print above my freshly painted nail. “Why?” he asked. “What’s wrong with onions and garlic?” He got a knowing look in his brown eyes and settled back. “Ah,” he said wisely. “Garlic.”

“Don’t be stupid.” I set the bottle down. “Garlic and onions have a lot of sulfur. So do eggs. They give me migraines.”