Would have been nice to have known that earlier. “I’m in the kitchen,” I said loudly.

Ivy’s tall, black-clad form strode past the opening. A canvas sack of groceries hung from her shoulder. Her black silk duster fluttered after her boot heels, and I could hear her looking for something in the living room. “I didn’t think you would be able to pull the fish thing off,” she said. There was a hesitation, then, “Where in hell is the phone?”

“In here,” I said, crossing my arms uneasily.

Ivy pulled up short in the archway as she saw Glenn. Her somewhat Oriental features went blank in surprise. I could almost see the wall come down as she realized we weren’t alone. The skin around her eyes tightened. Her small nose flared, taking in his scent, cataloging his fear and my concern in an instant. Lips tight, she put her canvas bag of groceries on the counter and brushed her hair out of her eyes. It fell to her mid-back in a smooth black wave, and I knew it was bother, not nerves, that had prompted her to tuck it behind an ear.

Ivy had once had money, and still dressed like it, but her entire early inheritance had gone to the I.S. to pay off her contract when she quit with me. Put simply, she looked like a scary model: lithe and pale, but incredibly strong. Unlike me, she wore no nail polish, no jewelry apart from her crucifix twin black chain anklets about one foot, and very little makeup; she didn’t need it. But like me, she was basically broke, at least until her mother finished dying and the rest of the Tamwood estate came to her. I was guessing that wouldn’t be for about two hundred years—bare minimum.

Ivy’s thin eyebrows rose as she looked Glenn over. “Bringing your work home again, Rachel?”

I took a breath. “Hi, Ivy. This is Detective Glenn. You talked to him this afternoon? Sent him to pick me up?” My look went pointed. We were going to talk about that later.

Ivy turned her back on him to unpack the groceries. “Nice to meet you,” she said, her tone flat. Then to me, she muttered, “Sorry. Something came up.”

Glenn swallowed hard. He looked shaky but was holding up. I guess Edden hadn’t told him about Ivy. I really liked Edden. “You’re a vampire,” he said.

“Ooooh,” Ivy said. “We’ve got a bright one here.”

Fingers fumbling around the string of his new amulet, he pulled a cross from behind his shirt. “But the sun is up,” he said, sounding as if he had been betrayed.

“My my my,” Ivy said. “And a weatherman, too?” She turned with a snide look. “I’m not dead yet, Detective Glenn. Only the true undead have light restrictions. Come back in sixty years and I might be worried about a sunburn.” Seeing his cross, she smiled patronizingly and pulled out from behind her black spandex shirt her own, extravagant crucifix. “That only works on undead vamps,” she said as she turned back to the counter. “Where did you get your schooling? B-movies?”