My lips parted in surprise, and Jenks landed upon my big hoop earrings as Ceri placed it about her neck. The elaborately tooled silver looked right against the rich purple and green of her formal gown. “Ivy—” I started, jerking when Ivy narrowed her eyes at me.

“It doesn’t help anymore,” she said tightly. “She wants it. I’m giving it to her.”

Ceri reached up, clearly finding peace in the icon. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Ivy frowned. “Touch my desk again, and I’ll snap every one of your fingers.”

Ceri took the threat with a light understanding that surprised me. It was obvious she had dealt with vampires before. I wondered where—since vampires couldn’t manipulate ley lines and would therefore make lousy familiars.

“How about some tea?” I said, wanting something normal to do. Making tea wasn’t normal, but it was close. The pot was steaming, and as I rummaged in a cupboard for a mug good enough for a guest, Jenks snickered, swinging my earring like a tire swing. His kids were flitting into the kitchen in twos and threes—much to Ivy’s annoyance—pulled by the novelty of Ceri. They hovered over her, Jih taking the closest stance.

Ivy stood defensively before her computer, and after a moment’s hesitation, Ceri sat in the chair farthest from her. She looked lost and alone as she fingered the crucifix about her neck. As I searched the pantry for a tea bag, I wondered how I was going to make this work. Ivy wasn’t going to like another roommate. And where would we put her?

The accusing clatter of Ivy’s pens was loud as she rearranged her pencil cup. “Got one,” I said in relief as I finally found a tea bag. Jenks left me to bother Ivy, chased off my earring by the steam drifting up as I poured the boiling water into the mug.

“Here, Ceri,” I said, waving the pixies away from her and setting it on the table. “Do you want anything with it?”

She looked at the cup as if she’d never seen one before. Eyes widening, she shook her head. I hesitated, wondering what I had done wrong. She looked like she was ready to cry again. “Is it okay?” I asked, and she nodded, her thin hand shaking as she took the mug.

Jenks and Ivy were staring at her. “You sure you don’t want sugar or anything?” I asked, but she shook her head. Narrow chin trembling, she brought the cup to her lips.

Brow furrowed, I went to get the coffee grounds out of the fridge. Ivy rose to rinse the carafe. She leaned close to me, running the water to blur her words as she muttered, “What’s wrong with her? She’s crying over her tea.”

I spun. “Ceri!” I exclaimed. “If you want some sugar, it’s okay!”

She met my gaze, tears streaming down her pale face. “I haven’t had anything to eat for—a thousand years,” she choked out.

I felt as if I had been punched in the gut. “Do you want some sugar?”