He was still an eyeful at six-foot-four, especially now that he was acting his size. He had on his aviator jacket, and with his sunglasses and one of the Were’s caps turned inside out, he looked good—damn good in an individualistic, innocent sort of way.

“Ah, why don’t we go sit?” I suggested, becoming uncomfortable at the giggles. Whoo-hoo! The Inderland nymphos are here! Who brought the pistachio pudding?

We pushed into motion, and Ivy snagged Nick’s elbow. “Get some water for Rachel and an orange juice for me,” she said, her white fingers gripping him tighter than was polite or necessary. “Just orange juice. I don’t want anything in it. Understand?”

Nick jerked out of her hold. He never would have managed it if she hadn’t let him. Frowning, he shook his cloth coat out and went to the bar. He knew he was being gotten rid of.

Nick fit in well here, and it wasn’t just the human/Inderland thing. The bar was replete with skinny women in skimpy outfits, chunky women in skimpy outfits, women who never let their glass hit the table and looked old before they should in skimpy outfits, and men in fleece shirts and jeans who looked desperate. Facial hair optional. Oh yeah, this was a great place to eat before I bit the big one.

Maybe I was a little depressed.

A woman in a red dress cut too low for her hips waved to Jenks. She was standing by the karaoke machine, and I rolled my eyes when it started playing “American Woman.” Jenks grinned, heading off in that direction until Ivy dragged him backward to the table.

The woman at the machine pouted. Ivy fixed a look on her, whereupon the woman went ashen. Her girlfriend got scared and pulled her to the bar as if Ivy was going to drain the both of them. Irritated at their ignorance, I hiked my bag higher and plodded after Ivy and Jenks.

My fingers were starting to sweat, but I couldn’t let go of my shoulder bag. Inside it was the defunct focus and the wolf statue. The real focus was sandwiched between Jenks’s silk boxers at the motel, though only Jenks and I knew it. I’d have told Ivy, but leaving it unattended didn’t fit in with her plan, and I wasn’t up to arguing with her. Nick wanted the focus. I had to believe he’d steal anything I was protecting. God, please prove me wrong?

In my bag with the two fakes was half of my inertia-dampening curse. Nick had the other half and would be putting it on the grille of the Mack truck. When they got close, they would take effect and muffle my motions. Nick had his own inertia-dampening curse along with a normal disguise charm and the two illegal charms to make him into Peter’s doppelganger and vice versa. I wouldn’t dare use them in Cincinnati, where bouncers wore spell-check amulets as a matter of course, but I could get away with it here. Small-town life clearly had advantages, but having to educate the locals would get tedious.