Ким Харрисон - Every Witch Way But Dead

"Come on back," I whispered, not wanting to wake the pixies. Kisten's smile was soft as he followed me into the kitchen. We were quiet, but I knew Ivy had heard us when she turned the music down a shade. Tossing my clutch purse to my side of the table, I felt like someone else as I padded in my stocking feet to the fridge for the coffee. I caught sight of my reflection in the window. If you ignored the snow stains and falling hair, I didn't look too bad.

"I'll get the coffee," I said, searching the fridge as the sound of tinkling water intruded on the jazz. Grounds in hand, I turned to find him looking relaxed and comfortable in his pin-striped suit as he stood at the sink and cleaned the new coffee carafe. His mind was entirely on his task, seemingly unaware that I was in the same room while he threw out the old grounds and pulled a filter from the cupboard with a smooth, unthinking motion.

After an entire four hours with him without one flirting comment or sexual/blood innuendo, I felt comfortable. I hadn't known he could be like this: normal. I watched him move, seeing him with his thoughts on nothing. I liked what I saw, and I wondered what it would be like to be this way all the time.

As if feeling my eyes on him, Kisten turned. "What?" he asked, smiling.

"Nothing." I glanced at the black hallway. "I want to check on Ivy."

Kisten's lips parted to show a glimpse of teeth as his smile widened. "Okay."

Not sure why that seemed to please him, I gave him a last, high-eyebrow look and headed into the candlelit living room. Ivy was sprawled across her cushy suede chair, her head on one arm, her legs draped over the other. Her brown eyes flicked to mine as I entered, taking in the smooth, elegant lines of my clothes all the way to my feet in their nylons.

"You've got snow all over you," she said, her expression and position unchanging.

"I, uh, slipped," I lied, and she accepted that, taking my nervousness as embarrassment. "Why are the pixies still asleep?"

She snorted—sitting up to put her feet on the floor—and I sat on the matching couch across from her with the coffee table between us. "Jenks kept them up after you left so they wouldn't be awake when you got home."

A thankful smile came over me. "Remind me to make him some honey cakes," I said, leaning back and crossing my legs.

Ivy slumped into her chair, mirroring my posture. "So…how was your date?"

My eyes met hers. Very aware of Kisten listening from the kitchen, I shrugged. Ivy often acted like a cloying ex-boyfriend, which was really, really weird. But now that I knew it stemmed from her need to keep my trust, it was a bit easier to understand, though still odd.

She took a slow breath, and I knew she was scenting the air to make sure no one had bitten me at Piscary's. Her shoulders eased, and I rolled my eyes in exasperation.

"Hey, um," I started. "I'm really sorry about what I said earlier. About Piscary's?" Her eyes jerked to mine and I quickly added, "You want to go sometime? Together, I mean? I think if I stay downstairs, I won't pass out." My eyes pinched, not knowing why I was doing this except if she didn't find a way to relax soon, she was going to snap. I didn't want to be around for that. And I'd feel better if I was there to keep an eye on her. I had a feeling she would pass out quicker than I had.

Ivy shifted in the chair, moving back where she was when I came in. "Sure," she said, her voice not giving me a clue to her thoughts as she looked at the ceiling and closed her eyes. "We haven't had a girls' night out in a while."

"Great."

I settled back into the cushions to wait for Kisten. From the stereo, a soft-spoken voice dripping sex whispered as the songs changed. The scent of brewing coffee became obvious. A smile came over me as Takata's newest single came on. They were playing it even on the jazz stations. Ivy opened her eyes. "Backstage passes," she said, smiling.

"Al-l-l-l-l-l the way backstage," I countered. She had already agreed to work the concert with me, and I was eager to introduce her to Takata. But then I thought of Nick. No chance he'd be going now. Maybe I could ask Kisten to help us. And since he was posing as Piscary's scion, he would be doubly effective as a deterrent. Kinda like a cop car parked in the median. I looked at the black archway, wondering if he'd say yes if I asked, and if I wanted him there.

"Listen." Ivy held up a finger. "This is my favorite part. That low thrum goes all the way to my gut. Hear the pain in her voice? This has got to be Takata's best CD yet."

Her voice? I thought. Takata was the only one singing.

"You're mine, in some small fashion," Ivy whispered, her eyes closed, the inner pain showing on her brow making me uneasy. "You're mine, though you know it not. You're mine, bond born of passion…"

My eyes widened. She wasn't singing what Takata was. Her words were interlaced with his, an eerie backdrop that set my skin to crawl. That was the chorus he wasn't going to release.

"You're mine, yet wholly you," she breathed. "By the way of your will—"

"Ivy!" I exclaimed, and her eyes flashed open. "Where did you hear that?"

She looked blankly at me as Takata continued, singing of bargains made in ignorance.

"That's the alternate chorus!" I said, sitting up to the edge of the couch. "He wasn't going to release that."

"Alternate chorus?" she said as Kisten came in, setting the tray with three cups of coffee on the table beside the thick red candles and pointedly sitting next to me.

"The lyrics!" I pointed to the stereo. "You were singing them. He wasn't going to release those. He told me. He was going to release the other ones."

Ivy stared at me as if I had gone insane, but Kisten groaned, hunching to put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "It's the vamp track," he said, his voice flat. "Damn. I thought something was missing."

Bewildered, I reached for my coffee. Ivy sat up and did the same. "Vamp track?" I said.

Kisten's head came up. His expression was resigned as he brushed his blond bangs back. "Takata puts a track in his music that only the undead can hear," he said, and I froze, my mug halfway to my lips. "Ivy can hear it because she's Piscary's scion."

Ivy's face went white. "You can't hear her?" she asked. "Right there," she said, looking at the stereo as the refrain came back on. "You can't hear her singing between Takata?"

I shook my head, feeling uneasy. "All I can hear is him."

"The drum?" she asked. "Can you hear that?"

Kisten nodded, leaning back with his coffee and looking sullen. "Yes, but you're hearing a hell of a lot more than we are." He set his cup down. "Damn it," he swore. "Now I'll have to wait until I'm dead and hope to find an old copy laying around." He sighed in disappointment. "Is it good, Ivy? Her voice is the eeriest thing I've ever heard. She's in every CD, but she's never listed in the credits." He slumped. "I don't know why she doesn't burn her own album."

"You can't hear her?" Ivy said, her words a sharp staccato. She set the cup down hard enough to spill, and I stared, surprised.

Kisten made a wry face and shook his head. "Congratulations," he said bitterly. "Welcome to the club. Wish I was still in it."

My pulse quickened as Ivy's eyes flashed into anger. "No!" she said, standing.

Kisten glanced up, his eyes wide, only now realizing Ivy wasn't pleased.

Ivy shook her head, wire-tight. "No," she said adamantly. "I don't want it!"

Understanding pulled me straight. That she could hear it meant that Piscary's grip on her was tightening. I looked at Kisten and his expression went worried. "Ivy, wait," he soothed as her usually placid face went ugly with anger.

"Nothing is mine anymore!" she exclaimed, her eyes flashing to black. "It was beautiful, and now it's ugly because of him. He's taking everything, Kist!" she shouted. "Everything!"