Immediately Ceri stood. “That’s not necessary.”

Ire flickered in Ivy’s eyes. “I know it’s not necessary.”

Ivy’s plate of steaming cookies hit the desktop before me in a harsh clatter. My eyebrows rose, and I swung my feet to the floor. Ivy wanted to talk to Ceri alone—about me. Bothered, I tapped my fingernails in a sharp staccato. “I’m not eating those,” I said flatly.

“It’s medicinal, Rachel,” she said, her voice heavy with threat.

“It’s Brimstone, Ivy,” I shot back. Ceri shifted from foot to foot in obvious discomfort, but I didn’t care. “I can’t believe you gave me Brimstone,” I added. “I arrest people who do Brimstone; I don’t share rent with them.” I was not going to tag Ivy. I didn’t care if she broke every law in the I.S. handbook. Not this time.

Ivy’s stance went aggressive, her hip cocked and her lips almost bloodless. “It’s medicinal,” she said sharply. “It’s specially processed and the amount of stimulant in it is so low you can’t even smell it. You can’t smell Brimstone, can you? Can you?”

The ring of brown about her pupils had shrunk, and I dropped my gaze, not wanting to trip her into pulling an aura. Not now, with the sun almost down. “There was enough in it to jerk the bane into play,” I said sullenly.

Ivy, too, calmed, knowing she had reached her limits. “That wasn’t my fault,” she said softly. “I never gave you enough to even trigger a Brimstone dog.”

Ceri raised her narrow chin. There was no remorse in her green eyes. “I apologized for that,” she said tightly. “I didn’t know it was illegal. It wasn’t the last time I gave it to someone.”

“See?” Ivy said, gesturing to Ceri. “She didn’t know, and that insurance guy was only trying to help. Now shut up, eat your cookies, and stop making us feel bad. You’ve got a run tomorrow and you need your strength.”

Leaning back in my swivel chair, I pushed the plate of vamp cookies away. I wasn’t going to eat them. I didn’t care that what I had kept down yesterday had upped my metabolism so my black eye was already turning yellow and my cut lip was healed. “I’m fine.”

Ivy’s usually placid face clouded over. “Fine,” she said sharply.

“Fine,” I shot back, crossing my legs and turning so I was eyeing her askance.

Ivy’s jaw clenched. “Ceri, I’ll walk you home.”

Ceri glanced between us. Face empty of emotion, she bent to get her teapot and cup. “I’ll take care of my dishes first,” she said.

“I can do that,” I rushed to say, but Ceri shook her head, watching her feet so as not to spill as she made her way to the kitchen. I frowned, not liking her doing domestic work. It was too much like what I imagined Algaliarept had forced on her.

“Let her do it,” Ivy said when the sound of Ceri’s steps ended. “It makes her feel useful.”