“Yes,” Ivy said. “An extra large—”

“With everything but onions and peppers,” he finished, showing his teeth in a wide smile as he turned from me to her.

My shoulders slumped as his gaze left me. He looked like nothing more than a friendly pizza chef, and it was setting off more alarm bells than if he had been tall, thin, and slunk about seductively in lace and silk.

“Ha!” he barked, and I stifled my jump. “I’m going to make you dinner, Ivy girl.”

Ivy smiled to look like a ten-year-old. “Thank you, Piscary. I’d like that.”

“’Course you would. Something special. Something new. On the house. It will be my finest creation!” he said boldly. “I will name it after you and your shadow.”

“I’m not her shadow,” Glenn said tightly, shoulders hunched and his eyes on the table.

“I wasn’t talking about you,” Piscary said, and my eyes widened.

Ivy stirred uneasily. “Rachel … isn’t my shadow … either.”

She sounded guilty, and an instant of confusion crossed the old vamp’s face. “Really?” he said, and Ivy visibly tensed. “Then what are you doing with her, Ivy girl?”

She wouldn’t look up from the table. Piscary caught my eye again. My heart pounded as a faint tingle rippled across my neck at my demon bite. Suddenly the table was too crowded. I felt pressed upon at all sides, and the claustrophobic feeling beat at me. Shocked at the change, my breath left me and I held the next one. Damn.

“That’s an interesting scar on your neck,” Piscary said, his voice seeming to scour my soul. It hurt and felt good all at the same time. “Is it vamp?”

My hand rose unbidden to hide it. Jenks’s wife had sewn me up, and the tiny stitches were almost invisible. I didn’t like that he had noticed them. “It’s demon,” I said, not caring if Glenn told his dad. I didn’t want Piscary thinking I’d been bitten by a vamp, Ivy or otherwise.

Piscary arched his eyebrows in a mild surprise. “It looks vampiric.”

“So did the demon at the time,” I said, my stomach tightening in the memory.

The old vamp nodded. “Ah, that would explain it.” He smiled, chilling me. “A ravaged virgin whose blood has been left unclaimed. What a delectable combination you are, Ms. Morgan. No wonder my Ivy girl has been hiding you from me.”

My mouth opened, but I could think of nothing to say.

He stood with no warning. “I’ll have your dinner out in a moment.” Leaning to Ivy, he murmured, “Talk to your mother. She misses you.”

Ivy dropped her eyes. With a casual grace, Piscary snagged a stack of plates and breadsticks from a passing tray. “Enjoy your evening,” he said as he set them on our table. He made his way back to the kitchen, stopping several times to greet the more well-dressed patrons.

I stared at Ivy, waiting for an explanation. “Well?” I said bitingly. “You want to explain why Piscary thinks I’m your shadow?”