For a Few Demons More by Kim Harrison Page A

that I hated her, but every time she came over, she did something that rubbed me the wrong way through no fault of her own. “I’ll make garlic bread,” she said brightly, hair swinging as she tugged open the cupboard door to the spices.
    â€œRachel’s allergic to garlic,” Ivy prompted, and the living vampire hesitated. Her eyes went to mine, and I could almost hear her berate herself.
    â€œOh. Herb toast, then.” With a forced cheerfulness, she went to wash her hands.
    I wasn’t really allergic, just sensitive to it thanks to that same genetic aberration that would have killed me had Trent’s father not intervened. Ivy slid off the counter, and after snapping the box of pasta shut, started gathering salad stuff. She was right next to Skimmer, and when their heads almost touched, I thought I heard soft encouragement.
    Standing at the stove with my pasta, I found I was beginning to feelbad for the woman. She was really trying, recognizing that I was important to Ivy and making an effort to be gracious. Skimmer knew that Ivy had once set her sights on me, dropping her play for my blood after she’d finally gotten it, the encounter’s ending bad enough to scare her into never doing it again. And it was no secret that I didn’t give a flying flip that the two of them were sharing blood and a pillow both. I think that this had a lot to do with Skimmer’s attitude. I was one of Ivy’s few friends, and Skimmer knew that the quickest way to tick Ivy off was to be mean to me.
    Vampires, I thought, shaking the pasta into the white sauce. I’d never understand them.
    â€œHow about some wine?” Skimmer asked, standing at the open fridge with a stick of butter in her hand. “Red goes with pasta. I brought some over today.”
    I couldn’t drink red wine without risking migraines, and Ivy didn’t drink much—not at all before a run. I opened my mouth to simply say none for me, but Ivy blurted, “Rachel can’t tolerate red wine. She’s sensitive to sulfur.”
    â€œOh, God.” Skimmer’s pretty face was creased when she came out from behind the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Is there anything else you can’t tolerate?”
    Just you. “You know what?” I said, dropping the lid on the finished pasta and turning the flame off. “I’m going to get some ice cream. Anyone else want ice cream?”
    Not waiting for an answer, I snatched up my shoulder bag and one of Ivy’s canvas sacks and walked out of the kitchen. “I’ll be back before the bread’s done!” I called over my shoulder.
    The echo of my sandals was different in the sanctuary, and I slowed to see the cozy area Ivy and Skimmer had arranged in a front corner as a temporary living room. The TV would be lame, since we didn’t have cable out here, but all I needed was the stereo. Skimmer must’ve brought the floor plants, since I hadn’t seen them before. Damn vampire was just moving in.
    And I’m having a problem with that? Irritated at myself now, I shoved one of the thick doors open, slipping out onto the wide stoop and shutting it hard. The light over the sign was on to make the damp pavement shine. Rain-soft air caressed my bare shoulder, but it didn’t soothe me.Was I bothered because I’d begun to think of the church as mine, or was it because Skimmer was taking some of Ivy’s attention?
    Do I really want to answer that?
    My mood worsened when I passed my car in the carport. Couldn’t drive my stupid car to the stupid corner store because of the stupid I.S.
    I scanned the street for my pack-hopeful, not finding Brett. Maybe the rain had chased him off. The man did have to work sometime.
    The thump of the church’s front door shutting cut through the damp air, and I turned with an apologetic look on my face. But it wasn’t Ivy.
    â€œI’m coming with you,” Skimmer said,