The short man raised his thin, almost nonexistent eyebrows. “You use sauce from a jar.”

I nodded, then wondered how he knew.

Ivy looked to the kitchen. “Where is Jenks? He should be here for this.”

“My staff is playing with him,” Piscary said lightly. “I imagine he’ll be out soon.” The undead vamp slid the first piece onto Ivy’s plate, then mine, then Glenn’s. The FIB detective pushed his plate away with one finger in disgust. The other patrons whispered, waiting to see our reaction to Piscary’s latest creation.

Ivy and I immediately picked our slices up. The smell of cheese was strong, but not enough to hide the odor of spice and tomatoes. I took a bite. My eyes closed in bliss. There was just enough tomato sauce to carry the cheese. Just enough cheese to carry the toppings. I didn’t care if it had Brimstone on it, it was so good. “Oh, burn me at the stake now,” I moaned, chewing. “This is absolutely wonderful.”

Piscary nodded, the light shining on his shaven head. “And you, Ivy girl?”

Ivy wiped her chin free of sauce. “It’s enough to come back from the dead for.”

The man sighed. “I’ll rest easy this sunrise.”

I slowed my chewing, turning with everyone else to Glenn. He was sitting frozen between Ivy and me, his jaw clenched with a mix of determination and nausea. “Uh,” he said, glancing down at the pizza. He swallowed, looking as if the nausea was winning out.

Piscary’s smile vanished, and Ivy glared at him. “Eat it,” she said loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear.

“And start at the point, not the crust,” I warned him.

Glenn licked his lips. “It has tomatoes on it,” he said, and my lips pursed. This was exactly what I had been hoping to avoid. One would think we had asked him to eat live grubs.

“Don’t be an ass,” Ivy said caustically. “If you really think the T4 Angel virus skipped forty tomato generations and appeared in an entirely new species for your benefit, I’ll ask Piscary to bite you before we leave. That way you won’t die but just turn vamp.”

Glenn scanned the waiting faces, realizing he was going to have to eat some pizza if he wanted to walk out under his own power. Visibly swallowing, he awkwardly picked the slice up. His eyes screwed up and he opened his mouth. The noise from upstairs seemed loud as everyone downstairs watched, their breath held.

He took a bite, his face distorting wildly. The cheese made twin bridges from him to the pizza. He chewed twice before his eyes cracked open. His jaw slowed. He was tasting it now. His eye caught mine, and I nodded. Slowly he pulled the pizza away until the cheese separated.

“Yes?” Piscary leaned to put his expressive hands atop the table, genuinely interested in what a human thought of his cooking. Glenn was probably the first in four decades to sample it.