"Sorry, Ray-ray," he murmured over the noise of the engine. "I can't…I can't go back." He swallowed hard and his breath quickened. "But you did it. Thank you. I owe you one. I owe you my life." Hands trembling, he met my eyes, his grip on the plastic-coated wheel clenching and releasing. "I thought you were dead. You have to believe me."

I did. He wouldn't have left that rose in the jelly-jar vase if he hadn't.

Jenks made a call of discovery. "Anyone hungry?" he shouted over the wind and engine. "I found their food stores."

Nick jerked. "I'm starved," he said, all but panicked as he looked over his shoulder.

Jenks's first ugly face emptied when he saw Nick's eyes. "Yeah," he said softly, gesturing for Nick to move. "I guess you are. You eat. I'll drive."

I jumped up onto the copilot's chair to get out of the way, and Nick stood unsteadily, gripping the boat and shaking with the thumping of the waves. He wobbled to the back bench, taking a moment to arrange the wool blanket Jenks had found about his shoulders before settling himself and ripping open energy bars with his teeth since his nails were torn to the quick.

Jenks took his place behind the wheel. He turned the boat slightly to the bridge, and the ride smoothed out. I watched the play of emotions over his smooth face. I knew he was as mad as a jilted troll at the altar that Nick had led his son astray, but seeing Nick beaten, abused, and so weak he could hardly open that stupid wrapper, it was hard not to feel sorry for him.

Just wanting Jenks to lighten up a little, I put my head in his lap and peered up at him.

"Don't look at me like that, Rache," Jenks said, his eyes scanning the approaching shoreline for the run-down marina we had planned out earlier as a possible landfall. "I saw you pull it on Nick, and it doesn't work on me. I have fifty-four kids, and it won't work."

Sighing heavily, I arched my wolf eyebrows. Sure enough, he glanced down.

"Tink's panties," he muttered. "Okay. I'll be nicer. But as soon as he's better, I'm going to punch him."

Pleased, I pulled my head up and gave him a lick on his cheek.

"Don't do that," he muttered, wiping the moisture away. But his embarrassment was tinged with understanding.

I'd be content with that, but before I could teeter back and see if Nick would open one of those government-issue energy bars for me, Jenks stood, one hand on the wheel, the other holding his cap to his head. "Ah, Rache?" he said over the roar of the engine and the brush of wind. "Your eyes might be better than mine. Is that Ivy on the dock?"

Squinting into the wind, I sat on the copilot's chair watching the decades-old rusted gas pumps on the dock become clearer. Ivy was standing with the sun glinting on her short black hair, leaning casually against a piling. She was in jeans and a long sweater, but with the boots and shades, she managed to look svelte as well as ticked. A frumpy older man was next to her, and worry went through me at what had gone so wrong in Cincinnati that she had to come and get me. Unless she's here because she thinks I can't handle this.

The man beside her looked both nervous and excited in his faded overalls, holding himself a careful five feet away as the breeze shifted his plaid coat open to the wind. They probably didn't get many living vamps up here, and he was clearly more curious than wary.

Jenks decreased our speed, and I could hear the sounds from the shore. My emotions were swinging from one extreme to the other. If Ivy had come because she didn't think I could do this, I was going to be pissed—even if it wasn't going that well. If she was up here because there was a problem back home, I was going to be worried. I'd thought she couldn't even leave Cincinnati, so whatever it was, it must be bad.

My weight shifted as the boat slowed, and I fidgeted with worry. Jenks cut the gas to idle and we drifted closer. "Can we tie up here?" he shouted to the man, who was probably manager of the marina.

"You bet!" he called back, voice high and excited. "Take her right down to slip fifty-three. Your friend already paid for it." He pointed where he wanted us to go, looking flustered. "That's a big dog you got there. We have a leash law this side of the straits."

I watched Ivy for her reaction to seeing me as a wolf, but her expression behind the sunglasses was amused, as if it was all a big joke.

"Come on down when you get settled," the man said, hesitating when he saw Nick hunched under his blanket. "I need to register you."

Swell. Proof we were here.

Ivy was already walking down the empty dock to the slip the man had indicated. Behind me, Nick shuffled around, finding the docking ropes and flinging bumpers over the sides. "You ever dock a boat before?" he asked Jenks.

"No, but I'm doing okay so far."

I stayed where I was while the two men figured it out, easing our way into the slip in sudden bursts of engine and calls to go forward or reverse. Ivy stood on the dock and watched, as did a few people readying their boats for the water. Nervous, I slunk to the lowest part of the boat to hide. The island Weres and the Weres we stole the boat from would track us down, and a big red dog was memorable. We had to start putting distance between us and our borrowed boat.

Jenks cut the engine and levered himself out, landing lightly on the wooden dock to tie off the back end. Ivy rose from her crouch where she had tied the bow. "What in Tink's contractual hell are you doing here?" Jenks said, then glanced at the people nearby sanding the bottom of their boat. "Didn't think we could handle it?" he added, softer.

Ivy frowned. "Nice Band-Aid, Jenks," she said sarcastically, and he reached to touch it. "You're big enough to bite now, mosquito, so shut up."

"You'd have to catch me first," he said, flushing. "Give us some credit. It was only a snag and drag."

I would have told him to lighten up but my thoughts were spiraling around the same question. Clearly angry, Ivy nudged the rope over the edge so no one would trip on it. "Hello, Nick," she said, running her gaze over his blanket-draped, barefoot, hunched form. "Someone rocking your boat?"

Under her disapproving eye, Nick tried to pull to his full height, cutting the motion short with a grunt. He looked awful. His beard was nasty, his hair greasy, and his smell was pungent now that the wind wasn't pulling it away. "Hi, Ivy," he rasped. "Piscary send you out for some fudge?"

Stiffening, she turned. My pulse quickened at the reminder of the undead vamp. She shouldn't have been here. There was going to be a price to pay, which made me think it had to be more than her checking on Jenks and me. She could have called if that was all it was.

I made a little woof to get Jenks's attention, but it was obvious by his sudden concern that he'd come to the same conclusion. Hands on his hips, he took a breath as if to ask, glanced at Nick, then let it out. "Hey, uh, Ivy," he said, a whole lot nicer. "We need to get out of here."

Ivy followed his gaze to the smear the island made on the horizon. "Are you hot?" she asked, and when he nodded, she added, "Then let's get him in the van."

Finally, we were moving.

"You brought the van?" Jenks hopped back into the boat, the fiberglass under my feet barely trembling. "How did you know we were here?"

"I drove around until I found your motel," she said, eyes on me. "The town's not that big. I've got Kist's Corvette parked at the restaurant across the street from your room."

At least they were being nice to each other. I wanted some clothes and a moment to change, and if Ivy brought the van—which we'd packed in case we needed to bug out in a hurry—then all the better. Head weaving to gauge the distance, I jumped to the dock, my nails skittering. There was an Ooooh of appreciation from the people across the inlet sanding the bottom of their boat, and I flicked my ears back and then forward.