A Perfect Blood

not yours,” I said, and she shrugged. “I’ll talk to him,” I said, giving the cue ball a smack and sending the balls bouncing around the table.
    Ivy was wincing when I looked up. “Don’t. Please?” she asked, and I hesitated in my anger. “I’ll talk to him myself. I don’t know how long this is going to last anyway.”
    I stood up, leaning against the table. “Oh, man. I’m sorry. Is it his dad?”
    Her expression twisting into one of doubt and heartache, Ivy shrugged. “Glenn is having a hard time keeping up, and it’s starting to bother him.” Her gaze became distant, and I wondered if she was thinking of Nina as she played with the collar of her baggy sweater.
    “Oh.” I looked at the table, not sure I liked the sound of this.
    Ivy’s head shifted, and I heard the hum of Jenks’s wings. Half a second later, he darted into the room, his youngest daughter on his hip as she cried about the chips. Wayde followed him in with a bowl of chips and a garden of pixies wreathing him.
    Wayde was eyeing the table as he set the bowl in front of Ivy, clearly oblivious to the fact that I’d been taking shots at his balls as well as generally moving things around. Sure it was illegal, but it wasn’t as if we were playing a serious game. “Cool,” he said as he noticed that a few of my balls had been sunk. “See? You just have to slow down.” Then he frowned, and I watched his lips move as he counted his own set and came up short.
    “And exhale on the downstroke, baby. Nice and slow,” Jenks said, gyrating.
    Ignoring Jenks, I handed the stick to Wayde. Ivy took a single chip, placing it between her teeth with a careful precision and crunching down. Jenks’s kids shrieked, and my eyes widened as Ivy snatched up her phone an instant later. Seemed as if she had it on ultrasonic instead of her usual vibrate. Vamps and pixies could hear it, but not witches.
    I watched her listen, and Jenks went to eavesdrop, hovering when she waved her hand at him to stay off her shoulder. I found I was holding my breath, taking the stick without looking when Wayde missed his shot and handed it to me.
    “Got it,” Ivy said, her voice tight, and her eyes went to the door. My gut tightened, and sweet adrenaline poured into me. The soft ache in my head from the lingering epoxy fumes vanished, and I smiled. We were on.
    Saying nothing more, Ivy clicked her phone closed. She brought her attention from the door, smiled, and stood—all in a fluid motion that sent Jenks back-winging to get out of her way.
    “Here,” I said, handing Wayde the cue stick without looking at him. “You win.”
    “What?” he said, mystified for only an instant, and then his brow furrowed. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this.”
    Oh, for Pete squeaks. This was why I didn’t have a boyfriend. Never, never, never.
    Jenks rose up with a war whoop, whistling for his kids. From the belfry, Rex padded in with Belle on her shoulder, the gaunt fairy riding the cat like a horse, partly to stay warm, I think, in the drafty church. Things were going to move fast from here on out.
    “Rachel?” came Ivy’s voice from her room. “Where’s my sword?”
    The gray dimness of the hallway was soothing as I headed to the kitchen and my charms. “In the foyer where you left it last week when the evangelists were canvassing the neighborhood,” I said as I passed her open door. Boots and leather jackets were strewn on her bed, and what looked like a new knife set. She’d taken a class last winter and was dying to try them out legally on someone.
    I eyed Wayde when he paced into the kitchen behind me. “Have you given any thought to the fact that HAPA doesn’t know your bracelet is gone?” he said, and I flung open my charm cupboard, intentionally almost hitting him.
    “Yes, I have, actually. If they make a try for me, they’ll be in for a surprise.” And I hope they do go for me. “Ivy, where are we going?” I shouted, hands on my hips as I looked over my stash. Pain amulets, yeah. I always needed one of those.
    Jenks zipped through the kitchen, Rex and Belle under him, the cat watching him with her tail up straight. “I’ve got some of that new nectar crap in the fridge,” he said. “If it gets late and I’m not back, just warm it up. And you have to warm it, or it drops their core temp.”
    “I got this!” the irate fairy said. “I spent three years tending younglings before I became a warrior. That they’re pixy brats