A Perfect Blood. Ким Харрисон

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 when she took care of business. And by looking at her swift reactions I knew she had. It was pretty obvious, in hindsight, what with my leaving, her and Glenn here, and then coming back to an empty church. I was glad they got along so well. It made living with her easier.

      “Hi,” she echoed, giving Jenks a sharp look to shut up before she picked up a glass of orange juice. “Is that it?” she said, the glass almost to her lips.

      Her eyes were on the tuft showing above the neck of my T-shirt, and I pushed myself into motion.

      “Part of it,” Jenks said as he rose up off the brandy snifter. “Most of it’s on her neck.”

      Gathering my wet hair, I turned my back to her and tugged my hair clear of the tattoo. “See?” I said, head down as I looked at the amulets out on the counter, still waiting for Marshal to come over to invoke them. I’d wanted them done and out by now, but Wayde and David had sort of blown my night for me, and Marshal was on a human clock. “What do you think?”

      I heard her steps come close, and then her soft touch on my skin. “It looks red,” she said, and I stifled a shiver. “Did it hurt?”

      “She passed out!” Jenks said, and I grimaced. But then I froze, the scent of honey and gold lifting from her like a memory. I’d smelled it before on Glenn. My neck tingled, and suddenly, I realized why Ivy was acting funny. Honey and gold and Old Spice. It all added up to one thing.

      I spun, dropping my hair and staring at Ivy. She flushed and took a step back. “You …” I said as my hair fell into place, and she took

      a deep breath and turned away. Holy crap. Ivy, Glenn, and Daryl?

      But by Ivy’s discomfort, I knew I was right. The nymph was probably used to threesomes, being a nymph. And threesomes were common in vamp society where a savage vampire might use another person to help even things out or act like a spotter of sorts to make sure everyone made it out alive. Glenn, though … This was a surprise.

      I couldn’t help my smile. Jenks hovered between us, trying to figure out why I was almost laughing and Ivy was avoiding my eye. But what Ivy did was Ivy’s business.

      “Um, it’s okay,” I said, hoping Jenks thought I was talking about having passed out, not that Ivy had moved her relationships with Daryl and Glenn to a new level. Holy crap, what was I going to say to Glenn the next time I saw him? But I suppose if I could survive the embarrassment of Ivy and Jenks seeing my tongue halfway down Trent’s throat, Glenn would survive my knowing that he and my roommate were exploring their options with a nymph.

      Her back to me, Ivy looked out the window. Jenks finally landed on the counter, looking from one of us to the other. “Hey, uh, what am I missing?”

      “Nothing,” I said, touching Ivy’s elbow to make her look at me. “Is everything okay?”

      Blinking fast, she tried to smile. “Yes,” she said, that same guilty look crossing her face. “It was comfortable.”

      I gave her elbow a quick squeeze and let go. “Good,” I said, hoping she knew I was okay with this. “I’m glad.”

      And I was. Ivy and I had come to terms with the fact that there was never going to be anything between us other than an ironclad friendship. Ivy making ties outside me was a good thing. It was what we both wanted, and I was proud of her for moving on. And yet … even though I didn’t want blood or sex with Ivy, much less a threesome with two of my colleagues, I couldn’t help but feel ditched. Both Ivy and Jenks were moving on with their lives, and I wasn’t. I was alone. Again. Right when I thought I’d finally gotten everything together.

      “Comfortable?” Jenks’s features concentrated as he figured it out. With a burst of gold dust, he shot up into the air. “Tink’s diaphragm!” he shouted, waving his arms as he figured it out. “I don’t want to know. Oh my God! Ivy! You’re worse than Rache!”

      Ivy leaned against the counter and crossed her ankles. “You want to can it, Jenks? Put it on a shelf for later?”

      “No!” the pixy exclaimed. “I want to burn it out of my brain! Is Glenn all right?”

      My back to them, I poured myself a cup of coffee. “Jeez, Jenks. It was just a little threesome. Grow up. It’s what vampires and nymphs do. Glenn can handle himself. He’s a big boy.”

      “He’d have to be!” Jenks shrilled as I turned.

      “He is,” Ivy said, a weird half smile on her face as she held her glass of orange juice and stared off into space.

      “Shut up! Just shut up!” Jenks yelled, and I chuckled.

      The front doorbell rang, and I straightened, my untasted coffee in my hand. Great. Now Jenks’s kids would be up again. But before I could move, Jenks was headed for the hallway. “Thank God,” he muttered, a blue dust sifting from him and looking like a weird sunbeam on the floor. “I’ll get it.”

      “It’s probably Marshal,” I called after