The Undead Pool. Kim Harrison

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.

      The irritating tapping of her pencil ceased. “No one out there knew me, Rachel,” she complained, and my eyebrows rose. She is worried about my car? “I worked in the I.S. for almost a decade, all the way from runner to the arcane, and no one out there knew me!”

      Ah, not my car, her reputation. Smiling, I dropped my bag on the table, glad no one there recognized her. Maybe now she’d be free to live her life. “Jeez, Ivy, you were the best they had. If they ignored you, it was because they’re still ticked. There’s a difference.”

      “Maybe, but I didn’t see anyone I recognized.” Lips pressing, she tapped her maps. “You saw how busy it was. Half of Piscary’s children worked in the I.S., and no one was out there.”

      “Maybe they were out at other calls,” I suggested.

      “All of them?” Again the pencil tapped, the cadence faster. “Where is everyone?” she said, eyes on the map. “I can see some of them being let go when Piscary died, but Rynn Cormel would still need a foothold in the I.S. Maybe more so since he’s not originally from here. You don’t think he abandoned them, do you? Now that he’s had time to make his own children?”

      “No. He wouldn’t do that,” I said, trying to reassure her, but the truth of it was I didn’t know. That Rynn Cormel had taken Piscary’s children in when he became Cincy’s new top master vampire had been unusual, even if the vampire hadn’t had any of his own at the time. It had prevented a lot of heartache, because vampires without masters usually didn’t last long, succumbing to blood loss and neglect as they worked their way backward through the citywide hierarchy.

      “I’m sure they were just on other calls,” I said when the huge farm bell we used as a front doorbell clanged. My heart gave a pound, and my motion to get the door faltered when Jenks shouted that he’d get it. A sprinkling of pixy dust drifted down in the hallway, and I wondered how long he’d been eavesdropping. He worried about Ivy, too.

      “That’s probably Trent,” I said, breath catching at the easy sound of his voice.

      Ivy froze, her eyes flashing a pupil black as she looked up from under a lowered brow.

      “What?” I asked, liking Trent’s voice, especially when it was soft in quiet conversation.

      Exhaling, Ivy dropped her eyes. “Nothing. I’ve not felt that in a long while, is all.”

      “Felt what?” I said defensively when she arched her eyebrows cattily. “Oh, hell no,” I said as I slung my shoulder bag. “I’m not falling for him. It’s the excitement of a job. That’s it.”

      “Uh-huh,” she said, and realizing I’d forgotten to put my jacket on first, I took my shoulder bag back off. “And that’s why you put your best perfume on?”

      Motions jerky, I jammed first one arm, then another into the jacket. “Give me a break, Ivy,” I muttered, hearing Trent’s voice become louder. “You know how hard it is to get rid of the stink of burnt amber? I might be having dinner with the mayor.”

      Trent walked in with Jenks on his shoulder, and my next words caught in my throat. He was in jeans and a casual top. My eyes traveled all the way down. Tennis shoes? “Or maybe something a little more casual,” I said, feeling overdressed.

      His smile was as informal as his clothes, and he nodded to Ivy as she pushed back from her laptop, that pencil of hers twirling around her fingers instead of tapping on the table. “Ivy. Rachel,” he said in turn, then glancing at his watch. “You look nice. Are you ready?”

      “Sure,” I said, cursing myself as that same quiver went through me. I saw it hit Ivy, her eyes going even darker. Damn it, I wasn’t going to do this. “Ah, give me five minutes to change into some jeans.”

      His impatience was barely suppressed and I smiled, taking the show of emotion from the usually stiff man as a compliment. “You look fine. Let’s go. I have to be back by two.”

      “But . . .” I said, words faltering as he nodded at Ivy and turned, his steps fast as he vanished back the way he’d come.

      “Better get moving,” Jenks said, hanging in the air right where he’d been sitting on Trent’s shoulder.

      “You’re not coming?” I asked, and he shook his head.

      “Nah-h. Trent told me his plans. You don’t need me.”

      Brow wrinkled in confusion, I turned to Ivy. “See you later, I guess.”

      She was already bent back over her work, hiding her eyes. “Take it easy out there. There haven’t been any more misfires, but it doesn’t feel over.”

      It didn’t feel over for me, either, and bag in hand, I followed Trent out. He was waiting for me at the top of the hall, his expression sheepish as he fell into step with me.

      “Did I set Ivy off?” he whispered, and my eyes widened. That’s why the abrupt departure. But then I flushed. He thought he had set her off. Crap on toast, he thought he had set her off—meaning . . .

      Stop it, Rachel. “Um, she’s fine,” I said, not wanting to say no and have him guess that I had set her off, not him. “You don’t mind driving, do you? My car is in impound.” His eyes went wide in question, and I added, “Long story. Not my fault. I’ll tell you in the car.” He almost laughed, and I could have smacked him. “So where are we going, anyway?”

      “I told you. Bowling.”

      “Fine. Don’t tell me.” He was still smiling and I lagged behind as we passed through the sanctuary, the light from the TV a dim glow as Jenks’s youngest watched a wildlife documentary. Bowling. Was he serious? What kind of contacts could he make bowling?

      Trent’s pace was graceful and smooth, his fingers trailing along the smooth finish of the pool table. It was all I had left to remind me of Kisten, and I watched Trent’s fingers until they slipped off the end. “So what did Al say?” he asked.

      To leave you alone, I thought, and seeing my frown, Trent added, “It was tampered with, wasn’t it?”

      “Oh!” I forced a smile. “No,” I said as we entered the unlit foyer, pulse quickening when the scent of wine and cinnamon seemed to grow stronger in the dark. “It was fine,” I murmured. “Al says the charm was overstimulated, not misfired. I’m guessing it is the same thing that caused the rest of the misfires today. How’s your employee?”

      “He’ll be okay with minimal hospitalization. The safety measures in place saved his sight, but if it had happened anywhere else it might have . . . taken out a room.” His words trailed off in thought as he reached before me to open the door. “Overstimulated? That makes more sense than misfires. I had a couple more incidents come in this afternoon. Little things, but I sent Quen all the data I could find. He says the misfires are localized into a narrow band that seems to be stemming from, ah . . . Loveland?”

      His voice was hesitant, expression doubly so in the faint light from the sign over the door, and I nodded, glad he’d figured it out and I wouldn’t have to bring it up. Not many people