Thirty-One

Ivy stood just outside the bathroom, wrapped in a white motel towel, short black hair dripping from thin spikes. “You aren’t going to be riding with Peter, Rachel. No fucking way!”

I pressed my lips together and fought to not back up. Okay, so she does swear, but only when extremely pissed.

Jenks had retreated to the living room, looking like he wished he had never barged in on Ivy in the shower, terrified into playing the tattletale when I told him he was going to be running into me right along with Peter. Nick stood beside him in his grease-stained overalls, and they gave the impression of two boys who had jumped in the creek wearing their good go-to-church clothes five minutes before Pa hitched up the horse.

“Nick,” I said, and he started. “We have four hours before we meet Audrey and Peter.” Four hours. Maybe I could get some sleep. “Can you have the air bag fixed by then? I’d feel better if I had it to supplement the inertia-dampening curse.”

“Ivy’s right,” he said, and I frowned. “There’s no reason for you to risk your life.”

Ivy laughed bitterly. “She isn’t. Rachel, you are not getting in Nick’s truck.”

I turned to my spells on the table, pulse quickening. Her pupils were dilating, but it was in anger, not hunger. I knew this game of arguing with a vampire. “Everything is set,” I said. “I made a second pair of inertia-dampening amulets for me, so there’s no problem.”

Ivy pointed, unaware I could see the new long scratch on the soft part of her arm running from her wrist to her elbow. “It’s not going to happen, Rachel!”

“It will work,” I said. “It’s only a joke spell.” Curse, actually, but why bring that up?

Jenks sat on the edge of the bed, white-faced. “Don’t ask me to do this.”

Nick shuffled nervously, looking like a garage repair guy in his blue overalls. Frustrated, I rubbed my temples. “The Weres won’t believe I let Nick run off with it and we’re trying to catch him,” I said. “Especially if there happens to be an accident. I’m not stupid enough to let Nick swipe the artifact, and they know it.”

There had been a spike of pleasure saying that. He would look back on the incident when it was over and know I had been thumbing my nose at him. But nervousness returned when I caught sight of Ivy. Scooping up Rex, I sat in a kitchen chair. “It’s no big deal,” I said, fingers moving to lull her into staying. “The charms will keep me safe. You can follow in the van, and we’ll say we’re on the way to the drop site in two vehicles. Telling them Nick ran off with it will only get them going after him themselves. They might catch him.” Not that I really cared.

Ivy shook her head. “This is asinine. I’ve already got it worked out. Peter and crap for brains trade places. We tell the Weres Nick ran off with it and that Jenks went pixy-native to try and catch him. Jax takes his place on your shoulder, and while under a disguise, Jenks runs the Mack truck over Peter by ‘accident’ while we try to catch him. Truck explodes. Fake statue is destroyed. Peter gets carted to the morgue or the hospital, where we can pull his plug if we need to. Weres go away—we go for a beer. I spent hours coming up with this. Why are you screwing it up, Rachel?”