I looked at Nick as she left. He seemed ill. The demon had tricked him. We had gotten home as promised, but now a demon was loose in Cincinnati when all Nick had needed to do was wait for Jenks and Ivy.

“Nick?” I breathed.

“What? What can I do?” His voice was worried and soft, tinged with guilt.

“You’re an ass. Help me sit up.”

He winced. With hands hesitant and cautious, he helped me inch my way up until my back was against the arm of the couch. I sat and stared at the ceiling while the black spots danced and quivered until they went away. Taking a slow breath, I looked at myself.

Blood splattered my dress where it showed past my coat draped over me like a blanket. Maybe now I could throw it away. A brown film of blood had stuck my nylons to my feet. My arm with the bite looked gray where it wasn’t streaked with sticky blood. The hem of Nick’s shirt was still tied around my wrist, and blood dripped wetly from it with the speed of a dripping faucet: plink, plink, plink. Maybe Jenks had run out of dust before he got to it. My other arm was swollen, and my shoulder felt like it was broken. The room got too cold, then hot. I stared at Nick, feeling myself go distant and unreal.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered, glancing at the hallway. “You’re going to pass out again.” He grasped my ankles and slowly pulled me down until my head was supported by the arm of the couch. “Ivy!” he shouted. “Where’s that blanket?”

I stared at the ceiling until it stopped spinning. Nick stood hunched in a corner with his back to me, one hand clenched about his middle, the other holding his head. “Thanks,” I whispered, and he turned.

“What for?” His voice was bitter, and he looked ragged with dried blood on his face. His hands were black with it, the lines on his palms showing a stark white.

“For doing what you thought was best.” I shivered under my coat.

He smiled sickly, his pale face going longer. “There was so much blood. I guess I panicked. Sorry.” His gaze went to the hallway, and I wasn’t surprised when Ivy strode in with a blanket over one arm, a stack of pink towels under the other, and a pan of water in her hands.

Unease overwhelmed my pain. I was still bleeding. “Ivy?” I quavered.

“What?” she snapped as she set the towels and water on the coffee table and tucked the blanket around me as if I was a child.

I swallowed hard, trying to get a good look at her eyes. “Nothing,” I said meekly as she straightened and backed away. Apart from being paler than usual, she looked okay. I didn’t think I could handle it if she vamped out on me. I was helpless.

The blanket was warm about my chin, and the light from the lamp piercing. I shivered as she sat on the coffee table and pulled the water closer. I wondered at the color of the towels until I realized pink didn’t show old bloodstains.