White Witch, Black Curse

So we lived together in the church that was also our runner business, sleeping across the hall from each other and doing our best to not push each other's buttons. One might think Ivy would be ticked off after wasting a year chasing me, but she had a blissful happiness that vampires didn't often find. Apparently my telling her I wasn't ever going to let her sink her teeth into me again was the only way she'd believe I liked her for her and not the way she could make me feel. I just admired the hell out of anyone who could be that hard on herself and still be so incredibly strong. And I loved her. I didn't want to sleep with her, but I did love her.

Ivy came to meet us, her small lips closed and her slim boots silent on the carpet. She moved with a memorable grace, and there was a slight grimace on her usually placid face. Her features held a slight Asian cast, having an oval face, a small nose, and a heart-shaped mouth. It was seldom she smiled, afraid the emotion would break her self-control. I think that was one of the reasons we were friends—I laughed enough for both of us. That, and the fact that she thought I could find a way to save her soul when she died and became an undead. Right now, I was just looking to find the rent money. I'd get to my roommate's soul later.

"Edden called the church first," she said by way of greeting, her thin eyebrows high as she spotted Ford's arm linked in mine. "Hi, Ford."

The man reddened at the lilt she'd put in her last words, but I wouldn't let him take his arm back. I liked being needed. "He's having trouble with the background emotion," I said.

"And he'd rather be abused by yours?"

Nice. "Do you know what room Glenn is in?" I said as Ford's arm slipped away.

She nodded, her dark eyes not missing a thing. "This way. He's still not conscious." Ivy headed down the hallway with us in tow, but when we passed the desk, one of the nurses stood, determination on her no-nonsense face. "I'm sorry. No visitors except family."

A pang of fear went through me, not because I might not see Glenn, but that his condition was so serious they wouldn't let anyone in. Ivy didn't slow down, though, and neither did I.

The nurse started after us. My pulse quickened, but another waved us on, then turned to the first nurse. "It's Ivy," the second nurse said, as if that meant something.

"You mean the vampire who's—" the first nurse said, but she was pulled back to the desk before I heard the rest. I turned to Ivy, seeing that her pale complexion had shifted to pink.

"The vampire who's what?" I asked, remembering her stint here as a candy striper.

Ivy's jaw tightened. "Glenn's room is down here," she said, avoiding my question. Whatever.

An unexpected sense of panic hit me when Ivy made a sharp left into a room and vanished behind the oversize door. I stared at it, hearing the soft sounds of delicate machinery. Memories of sitting with my dad as he took his last, struggling breaths swam up, then more recent, of watching Quen fight for his life. I froze, unable to move. Behind me, Ford stumbled, as if I had slapped him.

Crap. I flushed, embarrassed that he was feeling my misery. "I'm sorry," I gushed as he stood in the hallway and held up a hand to tell me he was all right. I thanked God Ivy had already gone in and wasn't seeing what I'd done to him.

"It's okay." His eyes were weary as he came close again, hesitant until he knew I had the old pain safely tucked away. "Can I ask who?"

I swallowed hard. "My dad."

Eyes down, he guided me to the door. "You were about twelve?"

"Thirteen." And then we were inside, and I could see that it wasn't the same room at all.

Slowly my shoulders eased. My dad had died with nothing to save him. As a law enforcer, Glenn was getting the best of everything. His father was in the rocker pulled up to his bedside, ramrod straight. Glenn was being taken care of. Edden was the one in pain.

The small, stocky man tried to smile, but he couldn't do it. In the few hours since learning about his son's attack, his pale face had acquired wrinkles I'd only seen hints of before. In his grip was a winter hat, his short fingers working the rim around and around. He stood, and my heart went out to him when he exhaled, the sound carrying all his fear and worry.

Edden was the captain of the FIB's Cincinnati division, the ex-military man bringing to the office the hard, succeed-against-all-odds determination he'd gained in the service. Seeing him down to the bare bones of himself was hard. The lingering questions in the FIB as to my "convenient" amnesia concerning Kisten's death had never occurred to Edden. He trusted me, and because of that, he was one of the few humans I absolutely trusted in return. His son, unconscious on the bed, was another.