My usual healthy distrust of undead vamps sank to a wary caution. “Piscary?” I asked. “As in Pizza Piscary’s?”

The vampire smiled, showing his teeth. They were longer than Ivy’s—he was a true undead—and looked very white next to his dusky complexion. “Yes, Pizza Piscary’s is mine.” His voice was deep for such a small frame, and it seemed to carry the strength of sand and wind. The faint remnants of an accent made me wonder how long he had been speaking English.

Ivy cleared her throat, jerking my attention away from his quick, dark eyes. Somehow the sight of his teeth hadn’t instilled my usual knee-jerk alarm. “Piscary,” Ivy said, “this is Rachel Morgan and Jenks, my business associates.”

Jenks had flitted down to the hot-pepper shakers, and Piscary gave him a nod before turning to me. “Rachel Morgan,” he said slowly and with care. “I’ve been waiting for my Ivy girl to bring you to see me. I think she’s afraid I’ll tell her she can’t play with you anymore.” His lips curved into a smile. “I’m charmed.”

I held my breath as he took my hand with a high gentility that stood in sharp contrast to his looks. He lifted my fingers, bringing them close to his lips. His dark eyes were fixed on mine. My pulse quickened, but I felt as if my heart were somewhere else. He inhaled over my hand, as if scenting the blood humming within them. I stifled a shiver by clenching my jaw.

Piscary’s eyes were the color of black ice. I boldly returned his gaze, intrigued at the hints beyond their depths. It was Piscary who looked away first, and I quickly pulled my hand from him. He was good. Really good. He had used his aura to charm rather than frighten. Only the old ones could do that. And there hadn’t been even a twinge from my demon scar. I didn’t know whether to take that as a good sign or bad.

Laughing good-naturedly at my sudden, obvious suspicion, Piscary sat down on the bench beside Ivy as three waiters struggled to get by with round platters. Glenn didn’t seem at all upset Ivy hadn’t introduced him, and Jenks kept his mouth shut. My shoulder pressed into Glenn as he shoved me down until I was nearly hanging off the edge to make room for Piscary.

“You should have told me you were coming,” Piscary said. “I’d have saved you a table.”

Ivy shrugged. “We got one okay.”

Half turning, Piscary looked to the bar and shouted, “Bring up a bottle of red from the Tamwood cellar!” A sly grin came over him. “Your mother won’t miss one.”

Glenn and I exchanged a worried look. A bottle of red? “Uh, Ivy?” I questioned.

“Oh, good God,” she said. “It’s wine. Relax.”

Relax, I thought. Easier said than done with my rear hanging half off the seat and surrounded by vampires.

“Have you ordered?” Piscary asked Ivy, but his gaze was on me, suffocating. “I have a new cheese that uses a just-discovered species of mold to age. All the way from the Alps.”