“Me? Fine,” he said, flashing me a thin smile. “They weren’t much of a threat. Besides, I needed the workout. All this domestic bliss is making me flabby.”
Flabby? I eyed his flat stomach.
“They told me,” he said, his expression becoming angry for the first time, “to look to Constance instead of you. That she’s the law in Cincinnati, and that if I knew what was good for me, I’d put a leash on my people and give her the room she needs.”
“David . . .” This wasn’t good. First Trent, and now David? It was almost the same threat. Look to her, or else.
But he was grinning, his eyes on his knuckles again. “I told them where they could lick themselves. Rachel, relax, it will take more than three living vampires to scare me. I handled it. They won’t be back. Vampires are homebody cowards. Once they find out they can’t bully you, they leave you alone.”
Maybe, but in two weeks, Constance would have more than a handful of vampires at her beck and call, she’d have her entire camarilla.
“I wouldn’t have even told you, except that a little warning goes a long way. If you have a new lock instead of being six feet under the ground or on a boat where you can’t reach a ley line, I’ll feel better.”
I smiled, finding a compliment in there. “You’re right, but as you say, it’s a mistake they’d only make once.”
“True, but why bust heads when you don’t have to?”
Because a little tussle now prevents a big misunderstanding later, I thought, but he’d scuffed to a slow halt, and I stopped. His car was one way, mine the other. If he offered to walk me to mine, I was going to punch him. Escorting people through the bad guys was my job.
“This is a nice neighborhood,” he said, but the way he was scanning the rooftops was disconcerting. “I’m glad you got it. Let me know when you’re moving and I’ll bring the pack.”
“Deal,” I said. Exchanging pizza and beer for an afternoon of companionship and a fast move was a win-win. “Thanks again, David.” I reached out, tugging him closer for a quick hug to say thanks for more than the tip on the property, but also for letting me be me. Jenks flung himself back off my shoulder, swearing as I breathed in the delicious scent of Were: woodsy, spicy, and earthy. “Tell me if Constance’s chipped-fang thugs bother you again.”
“Will do.” His eyes were crinkled in worry when he dropped back, but his smile was warm. “Always a pleasure,” he said as his phone rang. He reached for it, and my eyes went to the ambulance coming up the street, hitting its siren for a quick brupp to clear the intersection. Something was going on. I could hear angry shouting a few blocks away.
“You need to take that?” I said as David frowned first at the number, then the ambulance as it slowly wove through the stopped traffic.
“Excuse me,” he said, shoulders hunched as he hit the connect key and turned away.
“Jenks,” I called so the curious pixy wouldn’t eavesdrop, and he jerked to a short stop, dust spilling gold in annoyance. “This is okay, right?” I said as he came back and we looked at the store front. Most of the closing costs were coming from him and the probable sale of the church—if we ever got it into saleable condition.
“Absolutely,” he said, but a hint of depressed blue showed in the dust spilling from him. “I never liked living where dead humans were rotting in the ground.”
I’d heard his complaint before, but I wasn’t sure I believed him.
“And I can always gather stuff from the garden before we sell it,” he added, making me doubly unsure. It would be great having a downtown office, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I would miss the church more: the solitude, the cool quiet of the street, the solstice bonfires in the back, the noise of the kids riding their bikes on the walk in the dark, the garden I never seemed to have enough time to work in but which somehow gave me everything I needed.
The belfry where Bis had lived, I thought, head dropping to the new ring Trent had given me. Jenks had raised his kids there, lost his wife among the tombstones. Maybe . . . maybe it was better this way. Time to let my baggage sit on the curb for the trashman.
“Be right there,” David said as he ended his call. His face was creased in concern as he turned to us. “You can get to your car from here okay, right?”
I followed his gaze to the ambulance vanishing around the corner. “Want some help?” I asked, and David fidgeted, clearly eager to be gone.
“If you say no, she’s going to sulk for the rest of the afternoon.” Jenks rose up, hands on his hips in his best Peter Pan pose. “Don’t do that to me, Mr. Peabody.”
But David was inching away, the mildly irksome nickname not even noticed. “It really is a nice street, Rachel. I gotta go.” Turning, he ran off after the ambulance, duster furling and hat falling off his head.
He didn’t stop to pick it up.
I frowned, and from beside me, Jenks said, “I don’t know if I should say something about him being an ambulance chaser, or just cars in general.”
“He forgot his hat,” I said, striding forward to scoop it up.
Jenks took off his bandana and stuffed it in a back pocket, telling me he was working. “Maybe you should take it to him.”
Nodding, I started off in a slow jog, then jerked into a faster pace when someone screamed and the small pop of a handgun echoed against the stone buildings.
Nice neighborhood? I thought as I began to run in earnest.
CHAPTER
3
I skidded to a faltering halt in the street, lips parting as I gazed up at the low-slung, two-story apartment building. All the windows were open with their screens pushed out, and shadows of people were chucking clothes, tables, books, anything that would fit and a few things that wouldn’t down to hit the patchy front lawn. I stood at the back of a small crowd, jostling shoulders until someone either recognized me or felt the tingle of our internal ley line energy levels trying to balance and pushed back to give me room. Yep, I had that kind of a rep.
I moved forward, arms over my middle as I stopped at the “do not cross” tape stretched between the gangly street trees. Three people, Weres by the look of the tattoos and general hippie/free-spirit clothes, were facedown on the front lawn, spread-eagled with their hands clasped behind their heads. Two I.S. agents stood over them, yelling their rights at them. A third held a rifle, presumably the one that had gone off and was now confiscated. No one was at the ambulance, so the situation looked contained.
In addition to the EMS, there was a total of six I.S. cars, one FIB cruiser, the fire truck, and a news crew training their cameras on the distressed people gathering their stuff off the lawn. A second line of I.S. officers milled about, to keep the crowd from testing the line.