A Perfect Blood

Matalina had performed were slowly being picked up by Jenks’s kids, and now Belle, apparently. I never would have guessed that that would happen, but maybe because she was a fairy, she could do the matronly things Matalina had done without threatening Matalina’s place in Jenks’s mind.
    I didn’t quite know what to do with myself today. It was Saturday, and usually I’d be in the ever-after. The amulets that the I.S. had were either not working or they weren’t telling us what they’d found. We’d probably hear nothing new until I got the amulets I’d made yesterday invoked and out to the FIB. Setting down the comb, I picked up the cream that Emojin had sent me home with and dabbed a bit on, starting with the little fluffs at my throat. Weres would recognize even this small bit as part of a pack tattoo, and humans wouldn’t care. It was perfect.
    Jenks noticed my wince, and he rose, wings clattering. “Does it still hurt? You want a pain amulet?”
    I squeezed a small amount onto my fingertips and reached for the fluff in back. “No. I wouldn’t use one anyway. Pain is apparently part of the mystique. That’s why vampires don’t get tattoos.”
    “Yeah, okay. I still think it’s stupid.” Jenks looked to the front of the church when the front door opened with a creak. “Scarring yourself to show you belong to something.”
    The familiar clicking of boot heels on the worn wooden floor echoed in the sanctuary, and I recapped the ointment. “Ivy?” I asked, and Jenks nodded. Most of his kids were still asleep, but someone was always on sentry duty, and if it had been anyone else, they would have raised the alarm.
    “She was out all night,” I said as I grabbed a T-shirt from the dryer and shrugged it on over my chemise. Ivy had been out when I’d come back from Emojin’s. I figured she’d gone into the FIB with Glenn to check on something, and I wasn’t surprised she had decided to spend the night, or morning rather, with him. I’m glad she’s happy—my new motto.
    Ivy’s feet sounded loud in the hall, and knowing I was in the bathroom from the closed door and the scent of soap, she said, “Hi, Rachel. Is there coffee?”
    Her feet continued on, and I shouted, “Just made it. Help yourself!”
    A silver dust slipped heavily from Jenks, and he hovered before me, a devious smile on his face. “Excuse me.”
    He slipped out through the crack under the door, and I heard him exclaim loudly, “Sweet mother of Tink. Where have you been, Ivy? You stink!”
    “Glenn’s,” she said, clearly weary. “And I showered.”
    “Yeah, I can tell. So tell me . . .” he started in, his voice becoming faint as they went into the kitchen. There was a thunk of something hitting the wall, and I heard him swear at her. Smiling, I opened the door, knowing that she was probably in a good mood if Jenks was needling her enough that she was taking potshots at him she knew would never land.
    My pulse quickened as I padded barefoot down the dim corridor to the kitchen. I’ll admit I was more than a little nervous about showing Ivy my tattoo. Weres wouldn’t ink vampires since vampires turned pain into pleasure. Every so often, a vampire would start a parlor to give tattoos to their kin. It usually lasted a week before the place was torched—by vampires, not Weres. The old ones didn’t like scars on their chosen that they didn’t give them. I honestly didn’t know where Ivy fell on the tattoo side of things. Not that it mattered, but I’d like it if she thought it was cool.
    Squinting in the brighter light, I hesitated in the doorway. Ivy was standing stiffly at the sink, looking out into the garden, Jenks sitting on the overturned brandy snifter on the sill. It used to hold Mr. Fish, my betta, but had since been relegated to imprisoning the blue chrysalis that Al gave me on New Year’s. I thought it had to be dead, but Jenks insisted it wasn’t. I suppose he’d know.
    Ivy looked good, even if she was irate: slim, comfortable, sated, and in the same clothes she’d had on last night. “I’ve got this under control!” she said, hushed but strident, clearly peeved at having let go of her iron-clad hold on her emotions. Jenks looked at me and Ivy stiffened, not having realized that I was there.
    She turned, a faint flush on her cheeks, and tugged her short jacket closer, as if cold. “Hi,” I said, wondering about the sudden flash of guilt that crossed her face. Ivy knew I didn’t care how or