Ivy pushed past Keasley and sat on the end of the chair nearest me. “You look better,” she said. “Are you back yet or still in la-la land?”

“What?”

She shook her head, and I gave Keasley a wan smile. “Sorry I can’t offer you a chocolate.”

“Ms. Morgan.” His gaze lingered on my exposed neck. “Have an argument with your roommate?” he said dryly as he ran a hand over his tightly curled black hair.

“No,” I said hurriedly as Ivy stiffened.

He arched his eyebrows in disbelief and set his paper bag on the coffee table. “Matalina didn’t say what I needed, so I brought a little of everything.” He squinted at the table lamp. “Do you have anything brighter than that?”

“I’ve got a clip-on fluorescent.” Ivy slipped to the hall and hesitated. “Don’t let her move or she’ll go incoherent again.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but she vanished, to be replaced by Matalina and Jenks. Jenks looked positively incensed, but Matalina was unrepentant. They hovered in the corner, their conversation so fast and high-pitched I couldn’t follow it. Finally Jenks left, looking like he was going to murder a pea pod. Matalina adjusted her flowing white dress and flitted to the arm of the couch beside my head.

Keasley sat down on the coffee table with a weary sigh. His three-day-old beard was going white. It made him look like a vagrant. The knees of his overalls were stained with wet earth, and I could smell the outside on him. His dark-skinned hands, though, were raw from an obvious scrubbing. He pulled a newspaper out from his bag and spread it open like a tablecloth. “So who’s that in the shower? Your mother?”

I snorted, feeling the tightness of my swollen eye. “His name is Nick,” I said as Ivy appeared. “He’s a friend.”

Ivy made a rude sound as she attached a small light to the shade of the table lamp and plugged it in. I winced, squinting as heat and light poured out.

“Nick, eh?” Keasley said as he dug in his bag, laying amulets, foil-wrapped packages, and bottles onto the newsprint. “A vamp, is he?”

“No, he’s a human,” I said, and Keasley peered mistrustingly at Ivy.

Not seeing his look, Ivy crowded close. “Her neck is the worst. She’s lost a dangerous amount of blood—”

“I can tell.” The old man stared belligerently at Ivy until she backed up. “I need more towels, and why don’t you get Rachel something to drink? She needs to replace her fluids.”

“I know that,” Ivy said, taking a faltering step backward before turning to go into the kitchen. There was the clatter of a glass and the welcoming sound of liquid. Matalina opened her repair kit and silently compared her needles to Keasley’s.

“Something warm?” Keasley reiterated loudly, and Ivy slammed the freezer door shut. “Let’s take a look,” he said as he aimed the light at me. He and Matalina were silent for a long time. Easing back, Keasley let his breath slip from him. “Perhaps something to dull that pain, first,” he said softly, reaching for an amulet.