"Daddy!" she cried, flushing a dull, embarrassed red.

Getting two glasses from the cupboard, Ivy snickered. My uneasiness faded slightly.

"I know…" her father said, his head bowed and a hand raised. "A lot of your friends have shadows, and it looks like fun having someone trailing behind you, seeking your attention and always there. You're the center of their world, and they see only you. But Erica, bonded shadows are a lot of work. They aren't pets you can give to a friend when you tire of them. They need reassurance and attention. You're too young to have that kind of responsibility."

"Daddy, stop!" Erica said, clearly mortified. I sat as Ivy got a carton of orange juice from the fridge. I wondered how much of this was for Erica and how much of it was his way of trying to scare me off from his eldest daughter. It was working. Not that I needed any encouragement.

The living vampire's face went stern. "You're being careless," he said, his gravely voice harsh. "Taking risks that might put you in a place you don't want to be yet. Don't think I don't know you take your caps off as soon as you leave this house. You aren't going to that concert."

"That's not fair!" she shouted, spiked hair bobbing. "I'm pulling all A's and working part-time. It's just a concert! There won't even be any Brimstone there!"

He shook his head as she huffed. "Until that bad Brimstone is off the streets, you will be home before sunrise, young lady. I'm not going down to the city tombs to identify and bring a member of my house home. I've done that once, and I'm not ready to do it again."

"Daddy!"

Ivy handed her father a glass of juice, then sat down with her drink in the chair adjacent to mine. Crossing her legs at the knees, she said, "I'm going to the concert."

Erica gasped, her jewelry tinkling as she jumped. "Daddy!" she cried. "Ivy's going. I won't take any Brimstone and I won't bite anyone. I promise! Oh God! Please let me go!"

Eyebrows high, Ivy's dad looked at Ivy. She shrugged, and Erica held her breath. "If it's all right with your mother, it's all right with me," he finally said.

"Thank you, Daddy!" Erica squealed. She flung herself at him, almost knocking her taller father down. In a clatter of boots, she yanked the door to the stairwell open and thumped downstairs. The door arched closed, and Erica's shouts grew muffled.

The man sighed, his thin shoulders moving. "Just how long were you going to let her beg before you told me you were going?" he asked wryly.

Her eyes on her juice, Ivy smiled. "Long enough that she will listen to me when I tell her to wear her caps or I'll change my mind."

A chuckle rose. "You learn well, young grasshopper," he said, affecting a strong accent.

There was a thumping on the stairs and Erica burst out, eyes black in excitement, chains swinging. "She said yes! Gotta go! Love you, Daddy! Thanks, Ivy!" She made a pair of bunny ears with her fingers, crooking them as she said, "Kiss, kiss!" and darted out of the room.

"Do you have your caps?" her father shouted after her.

"Yes!" she called back, her voice faint.

"Take some of those necklaces off, young lady!" he added, but the door slammed. The quiet was a relief, and I met Ivy's smile with bemused wonder. Erica could really fill a room.

Ivy's father put his glass down. His face seemed to take on more wrinkles, and I could see the strain his body was enduring to supply the blood his undead wife needed to stay sane.

I watched Ivy shift her fingers on her glass to spin it where it sat. Slowly her smile faded. "Has she been to see Piscary?" she asked softly, the sudden worry in her voice drawing my attention. This was why Ivy had come to talk to her dad, and as I thought of Erica's carefree, wild innocence in Piscary's manipulative embrace, I worried, too.

Ivy's dad, though, didn't seem to have a problem with it, taking a slow sip of juice before answering, "Yes. She visits him every two weeks. As is respectful." My brow pinched at the implied question, and I wasn't surprised when he followed up with, "Have you?"

Ivy stilled the fingers encircling her glass. Uncomfortable, I looked for a way to excuse myself and go hide in the car. Ivy glanced at me, then her father. He leaned back, waiting. From outside came the rumble of Erica's car, fading to leave the hum of the clock on the oven the only sound. Ivy took a breath. "Dad, I made a mistake."

I felt Ivy's dad's eyes land on me, even though I was staring out the window trying to divorce myself from the conversation. "We should talk about this when your mother is available," he said, and I took a quick breath.

"You know," I said as I got up, "I think I'll go wait in the car."

"I don't want to talk about it with Mom, I want to talk about it with you," Ivy said crossly. "And there's no reason Rachel can't hear this."

The hidden request in Ivy's voice stopped me short. I sank back down, ignoring the obvious disapproval from her dad. This wasn't going to be fun. Maybe she wanted my opinion of the conversation to balance out her own. I could do that for her.

"I made a mistake," Ivy said softly. "I don't want to be Piscary's scion."

"Ivy…" There was a tired weariness in that one word. "It's time to start taking on your responsibilities. Your mother was his scion before she died. The benefits—"

"I don't want them!" Ivy said, and I watched her eyes closely, wondering if the ring of brown about her pupil was shrinking. "Maybe if he wasn't in my head all the time," she added, moving her juice away. "But I can't take it anymore. He just keeps pushing."

"He wouldn't if you would go see him."

Ivy sat straighter, eyes on the table. "I did go see him. I told him that I wasn't going to be his scion and to get out of my head. He laughed at me. He said I had made a choice and now I had to live and die by it."

"You did make a choice."

"And now I'm making another one," she shot back, her eyes lowered submissively but her voice determined. "I'm not going to do it. I don't want to run Cincinnati's underground, and I won't." She took a deep breath, her eyes rising to his. "I can't tell if I like something anymore because I like it or because Piscary likes it. Dad, will you talk to him for me?"

My eyes widened at her pleading tone. The only time I had heard it before was when she thought she was dead and was begging me to keep her safe. My jaw clenched as I remembered. God, that had been awful. When I looked up at his continued silence, I was startled to find Ivy's dad watching me. His lips were pressed tight and his gaze was angry, as if this was my fault.

"You're his scion," he said, his eyes accusingly on mine. "Stop shirking your duties."

Ivy's nostrils flared. I really didn't want to be here, but if I moved, I would only draw attention to myself. "I made a mistake," she said angrily. "And I'm willing to pay the cost to get out of it, but he's going to start hurting people to make me do what he wants. That's not fair."

He made a scoffing laugh and rose. "Did you expect anything different? He's going to use everything and everyone he can to manipulate you. He's a master vampire." Putting his hands on the table, he leaned toward Ivy. "It's what they do."

Cold, I sent my gaze down to the river below. It didn't matter if Piscary was in jail or not. All he had to do was say the word, and his minions would not only bring Ivy in line but get me out of his hair as well. Expensive, but effective.

But Ivy pulled her head up, shaking it in reassurance before turning her damp eyes to her father. "Dad, he said he's going to start calling on Erica."

The man's face went ashen to make the small fever scars stand out starkly. Relief that Piscary wasn't targeting me flashed through me, then guilt that I could feel such a thing. "I'll talk to him," he whispered, the worry in his voice for his innocent, so-alive daughter clear.