Becky’s plucked eyebrows rose higher. “Anything else?”

“How about one of those drinks with the cherries on little swords?” Jenks asked. “I like those swords. Can you put a cherry on a sword for each of us?” His smile grew seductive, and he bent toward Becky, hiding his wrist. I think Ivy had bruised it. “I like to share,” he said. “And if these two aren’t happy when the sun comes up, I’m going to be a dead man.”

The woman’s eyes darted between Ivy and me. Ivy’s lip quirked once, then steeled her features to a severe emptiness. Playing up to them, I cracked my knuckles in warning.

“Ooooh, hit me baby,” Jenks said, moving suggestively where he sat.

“That’s my job, sweetie,” Ivy purred, pulling him close and tucking her head into the hollow between his shoulder and ear. Her hand was a stiff claw upon his pristine neck, and I saw a flicker of concern in Jenks before he realized she was playing and was nowhere close to losing it. “I’m the bad vamp this time,” she purred. “She’s the good witch.”

Ivy drew her hand back to give him a tart slap on the face, but Jenks was faster, catching her wrist. Eyes sultry, he kissed her fingertips.

“Mmmm,” Ivy said, her dark eyelashes fluttering against her pale cheeks and her lips parting. “You know what I like, pixy dust.”

Becky’s face reddened. “Just the cobbler?” she stammered. “And the drink?”

Ivy nodded, her free hand wrapping around Jenks’s and her tongue coming out to lick his fingertips. Jenks froze, truly surprised. The woman took a breath and walked away, her steps unheard over the noise. Great. Now I probably wouldn’t get my fries.

Jenks reclaimed his hand, a faint flush on his face. “Four spoons!” he shouted after her.

My breath escaped me in a hiss. “You two are awful!” I said, frowning at Ivy as she shifted away from Jenks, a satisfied-cat smile on her face.

“Maybe,” Ivy agreed, “but the Weres were watching us, not Audrey and Peter.”

I stiffened, seeing Ivy mentally tick item number two off her list. We had moved that much closer to the end of this, and the first of the butterflies rose in me.

“Jenks tastes like oak leaves smell,” Ivy said, ignoring his fluster as he tapped the table in rhythm with the karaoke machine.

Jenks squirmed, looking all of eighteen. “Don’t tell Matalina about that, okay?”

Ivy said nothing, and I forced myself to the back of my chair. What was keeping Nick? Maybe he’d seen the nice display of low-class Inderlander at our table and decided to stay at the bar. Or perhaps he didn’t want to cross the room and draw the Weres’ attention to himself. Regardless, I could use that water.

Slowly Ivy’s tension started to filter back, unusual for her. For all my nervousness, Jenks and I were handling this better than she was, and I could understand why. Every run was personal to me. Ivy, though, wasn’t used to having the outcome of a run mean this much to her. She didn’t have the patterns of behavior to cope, and it showed around her eyes.