Dead Witch Walking

"You aren't going, dear," Mrs. Jenks said tightly. I dumped my last swallow of coffee down the sink, gazing uncomfortably into the garden, bright with the early afternoon sun. I would rather be anywhere else right now.



"The devil I'm not," Jenks muttered.



I turned around, too tired from a morning with not enough sleep to enjoy watching Jenks get henpecked. He was standing on the stainless steel island with his hands aggressively on his hips. Beyond him, Ivy was hunched at her wooden table as she planned three routes to the Kalamack estate. Mrs. Jenks was beside her. Her stiff stance said it all. She didn't want him to go. And looking the way she did, I wasn't about to contradict her.



"I say you aren't going," she said, a cord of iron laced through her voice.



"Mind your place, woman," he said. A hint of pleading ruined his tough-guy stance.



"I am." Her tone was severe. "You're still broken. What I say goes. That's our law."



Jenks gestured plaintively. "I'm fine. I can fly. I can fight. I'm going."



"You aren't. You can't. You're not. And until I say, you're a gardener, not a runner."



"I can fly!" he exclaimed, his wings blurring into motion.



He lifted a mere fingerbreadth off the counter and back down. "You just don't want me to go."



She stiffened. "I'll not have it said you were killed because of my failings. Keeping you alive is my responsibility, and I say you're broken!"



I fed Mr. Fish a crushed flake. This was embarrassing. If it had been up to me, I'd let Jenks go, flightless or not. He was recovering faster than I would have believed possible. Still, it had been less than ten hours since he was spouting poetry. I looked at Mrs. Jenks with an inquiring arch to my eyebrows. The pretty pixy woman shook her head. That was it, then.



"Jenks," I said. "I'm sorry, but until you have the green, you're garden-bound."



He took three steps, stopping at the edge of the counter. His fists clenched.



Uncomfortable, I joined Ivy at the table. "So," I said awkwardly. "You said you have an idea of how I can get in?"



Ivy took the end of the pen out from between her teeth. "I did some research this morning on the net - "



"You mean after I went back to bed?" I interrupted.



She looked up at me with her unreadable brown eyes. "Yes." Turning away, she rifled through her maps, pulling out a colored brochure. "Here, I printed this out."



I sat down as I took it. She had not only printed it out, but had folded it into the usual brochure folds. The colorful pamphlet was an advertisement for guided tours of the Kalamack botanical gardens. " 'Come stroll among the spectacular private gardens of Councilman Trenton Kalamack,' " I read aloud. " 'Call ahead for ticket prices and availability. Closed on the full moon for maintenance.'" There was more, but I had my way in.



"I've got another one for the stables," Ivy said. "They run tours all year, except for spring, when the foals are born."



"How considerate." I ran a finger over the crayon-bright sketch of the grounds. I had no idea Trent was interested in gardening. Maybe he was a witch. There was a loud, very obvious whine as Jenks flew the short distance to the table. He could fly, but barely.



"This is fantastic," I said, ignoring the belligerent pixy as he walked over the paper and into my line of sight. "I was planning on you dropping me off somewhere in the woods so I could hike my way in, but this is great. Thanks."



Ivy gave me an honest, closed-lipped smile. "A little research can save a lot of time."



I stifled a sigh. If Ivy had her way, we would have a six-step plan posted over the john for what to do if it backed up. "I could fit in a big purse," I said, warming to the idea.



Jenks sniffed. "A really big-ass purse."



"I have someone who owes me a favor," Ivy said. "If she bought the ticket, my name wouldn't be on the roster. And I could wear a disguise." Ivy grinned to show a faint slip of teeth. I returned it weakly. She looked altogether human in the bright afternoon light.



"Hey," Jenks said, glancing at his wife. "I could fit in a purse, too."



Ivy tapped her pen on her teeth. "I'll take the tour, and misplace my purse somewhere."



Jenks stood on the brochure, his wings moving in abrupt fits of motion. "I'm going."



I jerked the pamphlet out from under him, and he stumbled back. "I'll meet you tomorrow past the front gate in the woods. You could pick me up just out of sight."



"I'm going," Jenks said louder, ignored.



Ivy leaned back in her chair with a satisfied air. "Now that sounds like a plan."



This was really odd. Last night Ivy had nearly bit my head off when I suggested nearly the same thing. All she needed was to have some input. Pleased for having figured this small bit of Ivy out, I rose and opened my charm cupboard. "Trent knows about you," I said as I looked my spells over. "Only heaven knows how. You definitely need a disguise. Let's see... I could make you look old."



"Is no one listening to me?" Jenks shouted, his wings an angry red. "I'm going. Rachel, tell my wife I'm fit enough to go."



"Uh, hold up," Ivy said. "I don't want to be spelled. I've got my own disguise."



I turned, surprised. "You don't want one of mine? It doesn't hurt. It's just an illusion. It's not anything like a transformation charm."



She wouldn't meet my gaze. "I have something in mind already."



"I said," Jenks shouted, "I'm going!"



Ivy scrubbed a hand over her eyes.



"Jenks - " I began.



"Tell her," he said, darting a glance at his wife. "If you say it's okay, she'll let me go. I'll be able to fly by the time I need to."



"Look," I said. "There will be other times - "



"To break into Kalamack's estate?" he cried. "Don't freaking think so. Either I go now, or never. This is my only shot at finding out what Kalamack smells like. No pixy or fairy has been able to tell what he is. And not you, or anyone else, is going to take that chance from me." A wisp of desperation had crept into his voice. "Neither of you are big enough."



I looked past him to Mrs. Jenks, my eyes pleading. He was right. There would be no other time. It would be too chancy to risk even my life if it hadn't already been in the blender and waiting for someone to push the button. The pretty pixy's eyes closed, and she clasped her arms about herself. Looking pained, she nodded. "All right," I said, my attention back on Jenks. "You can come."



"What?" Ivy yelped, and I shrugged helplessly.



"She says it's okay," I said, nodding to Mrs. Jenks. "But only if he promises to bug out the second I say. I'm not going to risk him any more than he can fly."



Jenks's wings blurred to an excited purple. "I'll leave when I decide."



"Absolutely not." I stretched my arms out along the table, putting my fists to either side of him and glaring. "We are going in under my discretion, and we will leave on the same terms. This is a witchocracy, not a democracy. Clear?"



Jenks tensed, his mouth open to protest, but then his eyes slid from mine to his wife's. Her tiny foot was tapping. " 'Kay," he said meekly. "But only this time."



I nodded and pulled my arms back to myself. "Will that fit in with your plan, Ivy?"



"Whatever." Chair scraping, she got to her feet. "I'll call for the ticket. We have to leave in time to get to my friend's house and out to the main bus station by four. The tours run from there." Her pace was edging into vamp mode as she strode from the kitchen.



"Jenks, dear?" the small pixy woman said softly. "I'll be in the garden if you - " Her last words choked off, and she flew out through the window.



Jenks spun, a heartbeat too late. "Matalina, wait," he cried, his wings blurring to nothing. But he was nailed to the table, unable to keep up with her. "The Turn take it! It's my only chance," he shouted after her.



I heard Ivy's muffled voice in the living room as she argued with someone on the phone. "I don't care if it is two in the afternoon. You owe me." There was a short silence. "I could come down there and take it out of your hide, Carmen. I've nothing to do tonight." Jenks and I jumped at the thunk of something hitting the wall. I think it was the phone. It seemed everyone was having a fabulous afternoon.



"All set!" she shouted with what was obviously forced cheerfulness. "We can pick up the ticket in a half hour. That gives us just enough time to change."



"Great," I said with a sigh, rising to pluck a mink potion from the cupboard. I couldn't imagine mere clothes would make a good enough disguise for a vamp. "Hey, Jenks?" I said softly as I rummaged in the silverware drawer for a finger stick. "How does Ivy smell?"



"What?" he all but snarled, clearly still upset about his wife.



My eyes shot to the empty hall. "Ivy," I said, even more softly so she couldn't possibly hear. "Before the fairy attack, she stormed out of here like she was going to rip someone's heart out. I'm not going to put myself in her purse until I know if..." I hesitated, then whispered, "Has she started practicing again?"



Jenks turned serious. "No." He steeled himself and made the short flight to me. "I sent Jax to watch her. Just to make sure no one slipped her a charm aimed at you." Jenks puffed with parental pride. "He did well on his first run. No one saw him. Just like his old man."



I leaned closer. "So where did she go?"



"Some vamp bar on the river. She sat in the corner, snarling at anyone who got close, and drank orange juice all night." Jenks shook his head. "It's really weird, if you ask me."



There was a small sound in the doorway, and Jenks and I straightened with a guilty quickness. I looked up, blinking in surprise. "Ivy?" I stammered.



She smiled weakly, with a pleased embarrassment. "What do you think?"



"Uh, great!" I managed. "You look great. I never would have recognized you." And I might not have.



Ivy was wrapped in a skintight yellow sundress. The thin straps holding it up stood out sharp against her shockingly white skin. Her black hair was a wave of ebony. Bright red lipstick was the only color to her face, making her look more exotic than usual. She had sunglasses on, and a wide-brimmed yellow hat that matched her high heels. Over her shoulders was a purse big enough to carry a pony.



She spun in a slow circle, looking like a stoic model on the runway. Her heels made a sharp click-clack, and I couldn't help but watch. I made a mental note - no more chocolate for me. Coming to a stop, she took her sunglasses off. "Think this will do?"



I shook my head in disbelief. "Uh, yeah. You actually wear that?"



"I used to. And it won't set off any spell-check amulets, either."



Jenks made a face as he levered himself up on the sill. "Much as I enjoy this horrific outpouring of estrogen, I'm going to go say good-bye to my wife. Let me know when you're ready. I'll be in the garden - probably next to the stink weed." He wobbled into flight and out the window. I turned back to Ivy, still amazed.



"I'm surprised it still fits," Ivy said as she looked down at herself. "It used to be my mother's. I got it when she died." She eyed me with a severe frown. "And if she ever shows up on our doorstep, don't let on I have it."



"Sure," I offered weakly.



Ivy tossed her purse to the table and sat with her legs crossed at the knees. "She thinks my great aunt stole it. If she knew I had it, she'd make me give it back." Ivy harrumphed. "Like she could wear it anymore. A sundress after dark is so tacky."



She turned, a bright smile on her face. I stifled a shudder. She looked like a human. A wealthy, desirable human. This, I realized, was a hunting dress.



Ivy went still at my almost horrified look. Her eyes dilated, sending my pulse hammering. That awful black drifted over her as her instincts were jerked into play. The kitchen faded from my awareness. Though she was across the room, Ivy seemed right before me. I felt myself go hot, then cold. She was pulling an aura in the middle of the freaking afternoon.



"Rachel..." she breathed, her gray voice enticing a shudder from me. "Stop being afraid."



My breath came quick and shallow. Frightened, I forced myself to turn so my back was almost to her. Damn, damn, damn! This wasn't my fault. I hadn't done anything! She had been so normal... and then this? From the corner of my sight I watched Ivy hold herself still, scrambling for control. If she moved, I was going out the window.



But she didn't move. Slowly my breath came easier. My pulse slowed, and her tension decreased. I took a deep breath, and the black in her eyes diminished. I flipped my hair out of my face and pretended to wash my hands, and she slumped to her chair by the table. Fear was an aphrodisiac to her hunger, and I had been unwittingly feeding it to her.



"I shouldn't have put this on again," she said, her voice low and strained. "I'll wait in the garden while you invoke your spell." I nodded, and she drifted to the door, clearly making a conscious effort to move at a normal speed. I hadn't noticed her standing up, but there she was, moving into the hallway. "And Rachel," she said softly, standing in the threshold. "If I ever do start practicing again, you'll be the first to know."