A Perfect Blood. Ким Харрисон

onto the seven discs. It soaked in without a hint of redwood scent, but then, there wouldn’t be any until they were invoked.

      Damn it, what if they did try to snatch me? I didn’t want to have to take the bracelet off, and I looked at it, around my wrist like a security band. I did not want Al to know I was alive. He’d risked everything he had to keep me alive, and in return I’d broken the ever-after, dropped a demon psychopath into his living room, and saved the elves from extinction after the demons had been trying to exterminate them for five thousand years. Al was broke and trying to pay for everything I’d done. Not only would he be pissed if he found out I was alive, but he’d make me leave reality forever. I had nothing with which to bargain this time. I’d never see Ivy or Jenks or my mom again.

      I looked up at the silence. Ivy had her arms over her middle as she stood with the counter between us. “Jenks is right. It wouldn’t hurt you to sit this one out.”

      Frowning, I jabbed my finger with a finger stick, massaging three drops of blood onto one of the finished amulets. Trying not to look like I was, I breathed deep for the telltale scent of redwood, but there was nothing. It just smelled like wet wood. Damn it, either I’d done them wrong or my blood was too far from the witch norm to invoke it.

      In a pique of bad temper, I threw the now-contaminated charm into my salt vat, sending a splash of water up to spot the cabinets. I’d have to ask someone else to invoke the rest.

      Jenks landed close, his expression as worried as Ivy’s. “Glenn won’t mind handling this on his own.”

      “I’m not sitting this out,” I said dully, wiping the tiny spot of blood from my finger into nothing. “The I.S. will pin it on me if the FIB doesn’t catch them.”

      “No they won’t,” Jenks whined, but he’d seen the bag with my hair in it, too.

      “It’s a demonic crime,” I said, head down. “I’m a demon. Perfect fit. Why blame a hate group they don’t want to admit is still active when they can blame me?” I looked up, seeing Ivy frowning. “No offense to Glenn, but the FIB can’t bring in a magic-using human or HAPA without help, and the I.S. would rather have me take the blame than admit HAPA even exists.”

      “True,” Ivy said, Glenn’s muted conversation sounding loud from the other room.

      “I can find them without much risk,” I said, looking down for something to do. “If they’d really wanted me, they would’ve taken me already. I think they’re scared.” I brought my head up and gestured flamboyantly in the air. “Look who they’ve snatched. Teenagers, a businessman, and some college kid. None of them had a lick of real magic.”

      “Yeah, but your magic sucks right now,” Jenks said, glancing at the vat of dissolution saltwater, and Ivy frowned at him to shut up. From the living room, Glenn’s voice continued.

      I moved the empty potion bowl into the sink and closed my eyes. If I didn’t find these jokers, they were going to keep killing innocents by twisting them into that goat thing. Is that what Al really is?

      “Rachel?”

      My eyes opened, and I remembered Algaliarept sitting at a table, his skin almost black and a fuzz of red fur on him as he tried to remember what he used to look like.

      I took a deep breath and let it out. The worry in Ivy’s and Jenks’s eyes shook me, and I forced myself to smile. “Yeah, I mean, yes,” I said softly. “I’m okay. We have to find them. Fast. I’ll be careful in the meantime. It’s time for Wayde to earn his keep.”

      “You got that right.” Jenks dropped down to the finished amulets, easily handling a wooden-nickel-size disk of wood and stacking it on the next. “Who you going to get to invoke these little babies?”

      I turned my back on them as I untied my apron and hung it up. “I don’t know. Maybe walkie-talkie man has a witch for a secretary.” Neither one of them said anything, but Ivy was frowning when I turned back. I didn’t trust the undead vampire, either. “Now that Keasley is gone, the only witch I know who isn’t in jail, dead, or on the West Coast is Marshal. You want me to call him?”

      “Not really,” she said softly, then shifted to make room for Glenn, coming back in. He was smiling, but it wasn’t a happy expression.

      “I’ll have an answer for you about the medical records in an hour,” he said, taking a slice of pizza and dropping it on his plate. “What’d I miss?”

      Jenks’s wings clattered. “Rache overcompensating for you two love-birds cooing in the corner by going through her little black book.”

      My brow furrowed. “I am not!” I said, and Glenn and Ivy put space between themselves without a word. “I’m not trusting the I.S. to invoke them. Marshal is the only witch I know well enough to ask to do this for me,” I said as I moved the dirty spelling equipment to the sink. “You could have these invoked before the next shift, or you can wait until the I.S. gets around to it. What’s your choice, Glenn?” I wasn’t looking to rekindle anything between Marshal and me. But now that I wasn’t shunned, it was a real possibility.

      Even as the idea appeared, I dismissed it. I’d been in trouble, and Marshal had left. I didn’t blame him. Dating a shunned witch would get you shunned in turn. I’d told him I had control of the situation. He’d believed me. I hadn’t and things had gone wrong. He had left. No hard feelings on either side. But to go back now? No. I didn’t blame him, but he had left.

      Jenks hovered before me as I rinsed out the pot, a devilish smile on his sharply angular features. The chrysalis that Al had given me last New Year’s lay behind him on the sill, safe under an overturned brandy sifter. “Methinks she doth protest too much,” he said, and I threatened to squirt him.

      “Knock it off,” I said as I dunked the rinsed pot in the dissolution vat to get rid of any lingering charm. “I’m good with Ivy dating Glenn, biting Glenn, whatever with Glenn.”

      “And Daryl?” the pixy needled me. “You good with Daryl, Rache?”

      I stiffened, and from behind me, Ivy said, “Where’s the glue? And your cat, Jenks?”

      Jenks snorted. “Like you or that orange fuzz ball could catch me,” he said, but he was going for altitude.

      Glenn looked awkward when I turned back around, shifting from foot to foot, slightly flushed. I gathered up the dried amulets. “I’ll see what I can do about having these delivered to the FIB as soon as possible. It might take me a day, but as Ivy keeps pointing out, they’re only going to take you to an empty building by now.”

      Glenn’s attention flicked from the charms to me. “Uh, whenever you can get to it, that’d be great,” he said, actually dropping back a step. “Thanks. Rachel, I want you to stay here—”

      Stay here? My temper popped, and I smacked my hand down onto the counter. Jenks darted up, surprised, but Ivy chuckled, going to the fridge to give me space while I vented. “You are not turning me into the chief cook who never gets off the boat,” I exclaimed. “I’m going to be an active member in this run!”

      Ivy came out from behind the fridge door, raising a bottle of orange juice in a show of solidarity. “We’ve already been over it.”

      “So don’t even try telling her to stay home,” Jenks added, grinning as I glared at the FIB detective frowning right back at me, his chest puffed out. Puff all you want, FIB detective. You’re not turning me into the librarian.

      Ivy had her back to us as she poured out a glass. I knew she wasn’t thirsty. She was trying to cloud her senses as I filled the air with my anger. “We’re good at watching her.”

      Glenn took a step back so he could see Jenks better. “Against wackos abducting Rosewood syndrome carriers, to try to create synthetic demon blood? Rachel, I know you have a bodyguard and all, but how smart is it to put yourself where they can grab you?”

      “She said she’ll be careful.”