Glenn carefully put his elbows on the table. “You haven’t told me how class went.”

Jenks laughed. “It was hell on earth. Two hours of nonstop nitpicking and putdowns.”

My mouth dropped open. “How do you know that?”

“I snuck back in. What did you do to that woman, Rachel? Kill her cat?”

My face burned. Knowing Jenks had witnessed it made it worse. “The woman is a hag,” I said. “Glenn, if you want to string her up for killing those people, you go right ahead. She already knows she’s a suspect. The I.S. was there stirring her into a tizzy. I didn’t find anything that remotely resembled possible motive or guilt.”

Glenn pulled his arms from the table and sat back. “Nothing?”

I shook my head. “Just that Dan had an interview after Friday’s class. I’m thinking that was the big news he was going to spring on Sara Jane.”

“He dropped all his classes Friday night,” Jenks said. “Just made the add/drop with a full refund. Must have done it by e-mail.”

I squinted up at the pixy sitting by the lightbulbs to stay warm. “How do you know?”

His wings blurred to nothing and he grinned. “I checked out the registrar’s office during class break. You think the only reason I went was to look pretty on your shoulder?”

Ivy drummed her fingernails. “You three aren’t going to talk shop all night, are you?”

“Ivy girl!” came a strong voice, and we all looked up. A short, spare man in a cook’s apron was making a beeline for us from across the restaurant, weaving gracefully through the tables. “My Ivy girl!” he called over the noise. “Back already. And with friends!”

I glanced at Ivy, surprised to see a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks. Ivy girl?

“Ivy girl?” Jenks said from on high. “What the hell is that?”

Ivy rose to give him an embarrassed-looking hug as he halted before us, making an odd picture since he was nearly six inches smaller than she was. He returned it with a fatherly pat on the back. My eyebrows rose. She hugged him?

The cook’s black eyes glittered in what looked like pleasure. The scent of tomato paste and blood drifted to me. He was clearly a practicing vamp. I couldn’t tell yet if he was dead.

“Hi, Piscary,” Ivy said as she sat, and Jenks and I exchanged looks. This was Piscary? One of Cincinnati’s most powerful vamps? I’d never seen such an innocuous-looking vampire.

Piscary was actually an inch or two shorter than I was, and he carried his slight, well-proportioned build with a comfortable ease. His nose was narrow, and his wide-spaced, almond-shaped eyes and thin lips added to his exotic appearance. His eyes were very dark, and they shone as he took his chef’s hat off and tucked it behind his apron ties. He kept his skull clean-shaven, and his honey-amber skin glinted in the light from over our table. The lightweight, pale shirt and pants he wore might have been off-the-rack, but I doubted it. They gave him the air of comfortable middle class, his eager smile enforcing the picture in my mind. Piscary ran much of the darker side of Cincinnati, but looking at him, I wondered how.