The Good, The Bad and The Undead. Ким Харрисон

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The Good, The Bad and The Undead - Ким Харрисон

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yet, Detective Glenn. Only the true undead have light restrictions. Come back in sixty years and I might be worried about a sunburn.” Seeing his cross, she smiled patronizingly and pulled out from behind her black spandex shirt her own, extravagant crucifix. “That only works on undead vamps,” she said as she turned back to the counter. “Where did you get your schooling? B-movies?”

      Glenn backed up a step. “Captain Edden never said you worked with a vampire,” the FIB officer stammered.

      At Edden’s name, Ivy spun. It was a blindingly fast motion, and I started. This wasn’t going well. She was starting to pull an aura. Damn. I glanced out the window. The sun would be down soon. Double damn.

      “I heard about you,” the officer said, and I cringed at the arrogance in his voice, which he was using to cover his fear. Even Glenn couldn’t be stupid enough to antagonize a vamp in her own house. That gun at his side wasn’t going to do him any good. Sure, he could shoot her, and kill her, but then she’d be dead and she’d rip his freaking head off. And no jury in the world would convict her of murder, seeing as he killed her first.

      “You’re Tamwood,” Glenn said, his bravado clearly scraped from a misplaced feeling of security. “Captain Edden gave you three hundred hours of community service for taking out everyone on his floor, didn’t he? What was it he made you do? A candy striper, right?”

      Ivy stiffened, and my mouth dropped open. He was that stupid.

      “It was worth it,” Ivy said softly. Her fingers were shaking as she set the bag of marshmallows gently on the counter.

      My breath caught. Shit. Ivy’s brown eyes had gone black as her pupils dilated. I stood, shocked at how quickly it had happened. It had been weeks since she vamped out on me, and never without warning. The angry shock of finding someone in an FIB uniform in her kitchen might have accounted for some of it, but in hindsight I had a sick feeling that letting her walk in on Glenn hadn’t been the best thing. His fear had hit her hard and fast, giving her no time to prepare herself against temptation.

      His sudden fright had filled the air with pheromones. They acted as a potent aphrodisiac only she could taste, jerking into play thousand-year-old instincts fixed deep in her virus-changed DNA. In a breath, they had turned her from my slightly disturbing roommate to a predator that could kill both of us in three seconds flat if the desire to sate her longsuppressed hunger outweighed the consequences of draining an FIB detective. It was that balance that frightened me. I knew where I was on her personal scale of hunger and reason. Where Glenn stood, I hadn’t a clue.

      Like flowing dust, her posture melted and she leaned back against the counter on one bent elbow, hip cocked. Deathly still, she ran her gaze up Glenn until it locked upon his eyes. Her head tilted with a sultry slowness until she was eyeing him from under her straight bangs. Only now did she take a slow, deliberate breath. Her long pale fingers flicked about the deep V-neck of her spandex shirt tucked into her leather pants.

      “You’re tall,” she said, her gray voice pulling remembered fear from me. “I like that.” It wasn’t sex she was after, it was dominance. She would have bespelled him if she could have, but she’d have to wait until she was dead before she had power over the unwilling.

      Swell, I thought as she pushed herself from the counter and headed for him. She’d lost it. It was worse than the time she found Nick and I snuggled up together on her couch not watching pro wrestling. I still didn’t know what had set her off then—she and I had a concrete understanding that I wasn’t her girlfriend, plaything, lover, shadow, or whatever the newest term for vampire flunky was these days.

      My thoughts scrambled for a way to bring her back without making things worse. Ivy drifted to a stop before Glenn, the hem of her duster seeming to move in slow motion as it edged forward to touch his shoes. Her tongue slipped across her very white teeth, hiding them even as they flashed. With a recognizable restrained power, she put a hand to either side of him at head height, pinning him to the wall. “Mmmm,” she said, breathing in through parted lips. “Very tall. Lots of leg. Beautiful, beautiful dark skin. Did Rachel bring you home for me?”

      She leaned into him, almost touching. He was only a few inches taller than she was. She tilted her head as if to give him a kiss. A drop of sweat slid down his face and neck. He didn’t move, tension pulling every muscle tight.

      “You work for Edden,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on the line of moisture as it pooled at his collarbone. “He’d probably be upset if you died.” Her eyes darted to his at the sound of his quick breath.

      Don’t move, I thought, knowing if he did, instincts would take over. He was in trouble with his back to the wall like that. “Ivy?” I said, trying to distract her and avoid having to tell Edden why his son was in intensive care. “Edden gave me a run. Glenn is along for the ride.”

      I willed myself not to shudder as she turned the black pits her eyes had become to me. They tracked me as I put the island counter between us. She stood unmoving but for a hand tracing Glenn’s shoulder and neck, her finger running a perfect half inch above him. “Uh, Ivy?” I said hesitantly. “Glenn might want to leave now. Let him go.”

      My request seemed to break through, and she took a quick, clean breath. Bending her elbow, she pushed herself away from the wall.

      Glenn darted out from under her. Weapon drawn, he stood in the archway to the hall, his feet spread and his gun trained upon Ivy. The safety clicked off, and his eyes were wide.

      Ivy turned her back on him and went to the bag of forgotten groceries. It might look as if she was ignoring him, but I knew she was aware of everything down to the wasp bumping about at the ceiling. Back hunched, she set a bag of shredded cheese on the counter. “Tell that bloodsack of a captain I said hi the next time you see him,” she said, her soft voice carrying a shocking amount of anger. But the hunger—the need to dominate—was gone.

      Knees weak, I let my breath out in a long puff of air. “Glenn?” I suggested. “Put the gun away before she takes it from you. And the next time you insult my roommate, I’m going to let her tear your throat out. Understand?”

      His eyes flicked to Ivy before he holstered the weapon. He stayed in the archway, breathing hard.

      Thinking the worst had to be over, I opened the fridge. “Hey, Ivy,” I said lightly, to try and get everyone back to normal, “toss me the pepperoni?”

      Ivy met my gaze from across the kitchen and blinked the last of her runaway instincts from her. “Pepperoni,” she said, her voice huskier than usual. “Yeah.” She felt a cheek with the back of her hand. Frowning at herself, she crossed the kitchen with what I recognized as a deliberately slow pace. “Thanks for bringing me down,” she said softly as she handed me the pouch of cut meat.

      “I should have warned you. I’m sorry.” I put the pepperoni away and straightened, giving Glenn a black look. His face was grayed and drawn as he wiped the perspiration away. I think he just figured out we were in the same room with a predator held back by pride and courtesy. Maybe he learned something today. Edden would be pleased.

      I shuffled through the groceries and pulled out the perishables. Ivy leaned close as she put a can of peaches away. “What’s he doing here?” she asked, loud enough for Glenn to hear.

      “I’m baby-sitting.”

      She nodded, clearly waiting for more. When it wasn’t forthcoming, she added, “It’s a paying job, right?”

      I glanced at Glenn.

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