The Undead Pool

“Much better,” I whispered as I evaluated the results, and grabbing my jacket, I headed for the hall, ambling to the kitchen at the back of the church. Ivy looked up from her slick new laptop as I entered, her eyes skating over my outfit in approval. Her old tower and monitor were gone, and an overindulgent, high-def screen she could plug her laptop into now took up a good portion of the thick country-kitchen farm table pressed up against the interior wall. Her high-tech efficiency went surprisingly well with my herbs and spell-crafting paraphernalia hanging over the center counter. The single window that overlooked the kitchen garden was a black square of night. Al’s chrysalis and Trent’s old pinkie ring sitting under a water glass were the only things on the sill now that most of the dandelions were done. The radio was on to the news, but thankfully there’d been no new reports of misfires. Maybe it was over. I sighed, and as if feeling it, Ivy took the pencil from between her teeth. “Nice balance.”

Pleased, I dropped my jacket onto my bag on the table as I made my way to my charm cupboard. “Thanks. I don’t know why I even bother. I’ll probably be spending the night sitting outside a boardroom door.” Standing before the open cupboard, I fingered my uninvoked charms to find two pain amulets. Both Bis and Ivy were looking at her maps, the gargoyle’s gnarly claws spread wide to maintain his balance on the awkwardly flat surface. He really was a smart kid, and I’d been toying with the idea of giving him my laptop so he’d stop using Ivy’s—but then I’d have to use Ivy’s, and that was no good either.

“What’s up?” I asked, and she stuck the pencil back between her teeth, spinning the topmost map for me to see.

Bis looked worried, and with one hand at my hip, the other on the table, I leaned over the map showing Cincinnati and the Hollows across the river, color coded like a zip-code map to show the traditional vampire territories. Everyone looked to Rynn Cormel as the last word in vampire law, but lesser masters handled their own problems unless things got out of hand. Squabbles were common, but the number of red dots on Ivy’s map wasn’t good. Every section had at least one violent crime within the last twenty-four hours, probably ignored in the current chaos.

“You think it’s connected to the misfired charms?” I asked.

“Could be,” she said as she turned the map back around when I dropped my charms into my bag and went to the silverware drawer for a finger stick. “David called when you were in the shower. He wants to talk to you about some odd activity he’s been witnessing.”

Tension flashing, I took the sticky note she pushed at me with one long, accusing finger, recognizing her precise script and the cell number on it. “Thanks, I’ll call him,” I mumbled as I stuffed it in my pocket. I hadn’t talked to him or anyone from the Were pack since an uncomfortable dinner almost a month ago. It had been to celebrate the addition of a few new members, but everyone except David had treated me as if I was some sort of revered personage. I’d left feeling as if they were glad I’d gone so they could cut loose. Who could blame them? It wasn’t as if I was around that much. My female alpha status was originally supposed to be honorary—and it had been until David began adding members. I hadn’t said anything because David deserved it. That, and he was really good at being an alpha.

“Will you be around for dinner?” she asked, ignoring that I was staring at my open silverware drawer, slumped in guilt.

“Ahhh, I wouldn’t count on it,” I hedged, wincing when Jenks’s kids flowed through the kitchen, jabbering in their high-pitched voices. Circling Bis, they begged him to wax the steeple so they could slide down it, and blushing a dull black, the gargoyle took off after them. “You batching it tonight?”

Ivy set a hand on her papers so they wouldn’t fly up. “Yes. Nina is with her folks tonight.”

Her mood was off, and I put the finger stick in with my charms to invoke them later. Ivy’s control was good, but why put warm cookies in front of someone on a diet? “She doing okay?” I asked, crouching to get my splat gun out of the nested bowls.

Ivy’s smile was wistful when I came back up. “Yes,” she said, and a small knot of worry loosened. Whatever was bothering her wasn’t Nina. “She’s doing well. She still has control issues when heated, but if she can realize it in time, she can funnel the energy into other . . . directions.” Her pale cheeks flushed, and her fingers clicked over the keys in a restless staccato.

Knowing Ivy, I could guess where that energy was being diverted, and I dropped the splat gun into my bag, peering in to see what I’d collected. Pain charms, finger stick, wallet, phone, keys, lethal magic detection charm . . . the usual. “Hey, I appreciate you trying to get my car back. Edden still working on it?” I said, still fishing for what was bothering her.