She sighed, turning her gaze to the ceiling. "Kisten is on his way over. I'll go over it with him one more time, then we lock up the church and leave. I'll give you a ping when we're in place." She looked at me. "You do have my spare phone?"
"Ah…" I touched it on my waist. "Yes."
"Good. Go," she said as she turned and walked away. "Before I do something stupid like give you a hug."
Depressed and unsure, I headed out. David was behind me, his pace silent but his presence obvious by the faint scent of fern. "Sunglasses," he murmured when I reached for the door handle, and I paused to put them on. I pushed the door open, squinting from the late sun as I picked my way through the sympathy offerings ranging from professional flower arrangements to crayon-bright pages torn from coloring books. It was cold, the crisp air refreshing.
The sound of Kisten's car pulled my head up, and my pulse jackhammered. I froze on the steps and David almost ran into me. His foot bumped a squat vase, and it rolled down the steps to the sidewalk, spilling water and the single budded red rose it held.
"Someone you know?" he asked, his breath warm on my ear.
"It's Kisten." I watched him park and get out. God, he looked good, all trim and sexy.
David's hand went onto my elbow, pushing me into motion. "Keep going. Don't say anything. I want to see how your disguise holds up. My car is across the street."
Liking the idea, I continued down the stairs, stopping only to pick up the vase and set it on the lowest stair. It was actually a jelly-jar glass, with a pentagram of protection on it, and I made a soft sound of recognition as I tucked the red rose back into it and straightened. I hadn't seen one of those in years.
I felt a flutter in my stomach when Kisten's steps grew loud.
"Bless you," he said as he passed me, thinking I had put the flower there, not just picked it up. I opened my mouth to say something, closing it as David pinched my arm.
"Ivy!" Kisten shouted, hammering on the door. "Let's go! We're going to be late!"
David escorted me across the street and to the other side of his car, his hand firmly under my elbow—it was slick, and the heels I had on weren't made for ice. "Very nice," he said, sounding begrudgingly impressed. "But it's not as if you've slept with him."
"Actually," I said as he opened the door for me, "I have."
His eyes jerked to mine and a shocked look of revulsion crossed him. From inside the church came a faint, "You're fucking kidding! That was her? No fucking way!"
I pushed my fingers into my forehead. At least he didn't swear like that when I was around. My eyes went to David, the width of the door between us. "It's the species thing, isn't it?" I said flatly.
He said nothing. Jaw clenched, I told myself that he could think what he wanted. I didn't have to live up to his standards. Lots of people didn't like it. Lots of people didn't give a flip. Who I slept with should have nothing to do with our professional relationship.
Mood worsening, I got in and closed my door before he could do it. My belt clicked shut, and he slid behind the wheel and started his little gray car up. I didn't say a word as he pulled out and headed for the bridge. David's cologne became cloying, and I cracked the window.
"You don't mind going in without your charms?" David asked.
His tone lacked the expected disgust, and I seized on that. "I've gone in charmless before," I said. "And I trust Ivy to get them to me."
His head didn't move, though his eyes tightened in the corners. "My old partner never was without his charms. I'd laugh at him when we'd go in and he'd have three or four of them hanging around his neck. 'David,' he'd say, 'this one's for seeing if they're lying. This one's for knowing if they're under a disguise. And this one's for telling me if they're carrying a bunch of energy around in their chi and are ready to blast us all to hell.' "
I glanced at him, my mood softening. "You don't mind working with witches."
"No." He took his hand off the wheel when we rumbled over a railroad track. "His charms saved me a lot of pain. But I can't tell you the number of times he spent fumbling for the right spell when a good right cross would have settled things faster."
We crossed the river into Cincinnati proper, and the buildings made flickering come-and-go shadows on me. He was prejudiced only when sex came into the picture. I could handle that. "I'm not going in completely helpless," I said, warming slightly. "I can make a protection circle around myself if I have to. But I'm really an earth witch. Which might make things difficult as it's harder to bring someone in if you can't do the same magic." I made a face he didn't see. "Then again, there's no way I can beat Saladan at ley line magic, so it's just as well I'm not even going to try. I'll get him with my earth charms or my foot in his gut."
David brought the car to a slow halt at a red light. Face showing the first signs of interest, he turned to me. "I heard you brought down three ley line assassins."
"Oh, that." I warmed. "I had help with that. The FIB was there."
"You brought Piscary down yourself."
The light changed, and I appreciated him not creeping up on the car ahead of us until it moved. "Trent's security officer helped me," I admitted.
"He distracted him," David said softly. "You were the one who clubbed him into unconsciousness."
Pressing my knees together, I turned to look at him straight on. "How do you know?"
David's heavy jaw tightened and relaxed, but he didn't look from the street. "I talked to Jenks this morning."
"What!" I exclaimed, almost hitting my head on the ceiling. "Is he okay? What did he say? Did you tell him I was sorry? Will he talk to me if I call him?"
David glanced askance at me as I held my breath. Saying nothing, he made a careful turn onto the parkway. "No to everything. He's very upset."
I settled in my seat, flustered and worried.
"You need to thank him if he ever talks to you again,"
David said tightly. "He thinks the world of you, which is the main reason I didn't go back on my agreement to get you in to see Saladan."
My gut twisted. "What do you mean?"
He hesitated while he passed a car. "He's hurt you didn't trust him, but he didn't say one bad word about you, even stood up for you when I called you a flighty airhead."
My throat tightened and I stared out the passenger-side window. I was such an ass.
"He's of the backward opinion that he deserved being lied to, that you didn't tell him because you felt he couldn't keep his mouth shut and that you were probably right. He left because he thought he let you down, not the other way around. I told him you were a fool, and that any partner who lied to me would end up with their throat torn out." David made a puff of scorn. "He kicked me out. Four-inch man kicked me out. Told me if I didn't help you like I said I would, he'd track me down when the weather broke and give me a lobotomy when I slept."
"He could do it," I said, my voice tight. I could hear the threatened tears in it.
"I know he could, but that's not why I'm here. I'm here because of what he didn't say. What you did to your partner is deplorable, but so honorable a soul wouldn't think highly of someone who didn't deserve it. I can't see why he does, though."
"I've have been trying to talk to Jenks for the last three days," I said around the lump in my throat. "I'm trying to apologize. I'm trying to fix this."
"That's the other reason I'm here. Mistakes can be fixed, but if you do it more than once, it's no longer a mistake."
I said nothing, my head starting to hurt as we passed a river-overlook park and pulled onto a side street. David touched his collar, and I read in his body posture that we were almost there. "And it was sort of my fault it came out," he said softly. "Bane has a tendency to make you loose in the lips. I'm sorry about that, but it was still wrong of you."