"I heard about you and Ivy living together in this church and what she wants from you," he said, and my face flamed. "If you can save her soul after her first death," he continued, "it would be the most significant advance in vampire history since the live-video feed."

Oh…that. I hesitated, embarrassed. This was not what I had expected.

The master vampire smiled. "Lacking a soul is why most vampires don't continue past their thirty-year death anniversary," he explained. "By then, the people who loved them and have been giving them blood are either undead as well or simply dead. Blood from someone who doesn't love you is a thin meal, and without a soul, an undead vampire has a difficult time convincing anyone that he or she loves them. It makes it hard to form an emotional bond that is real and not contrived." He shifted, the scent of vampiric incense coming clear to me. "It can be done, but it takes a lot of finesse."

Somehow, I didn't think Rynn Cormel had that problem. "So if I can save Ivy's soul…," I prompted, not liking where this was going.

"It will allow the undead to continue to form auratic bonds with new people, extending their undead existence forever."

I leaned against the counter and crossed my ankles. Sipping my coffee, I thought that over, remembering that when Ivy had bitten me she had taken a portion of my aura along with my blood. The theory went along nicely with my private theory that an undead vampire needs the illusion of a soul or aura about it or the brain will realize it is dead and drive the vampire into the sun to kill it, thus bringing the mind, the body, and the soul back into balance.

"I'm sorry," I said, thinking that the pope would have a coronary at my thoughts. "It can't be done. I don't know how to save Ivy's soul when she dies. I just don't."

Rynn Cormel's gaze roved over the scattered herbs crushed underfoot, and I warmed, wondering if he knew I'd been experimenting with ways to safely curb Ivy's blood lust.

"You're the one who broke the balance of power between the vampires and the Weres," he accused so very softly, and I felt cold. "You found the focus," he continued, and my pulse quickened.

"My boyfriend—my ex-boyfriend—did that."

"Semantics," he said, waving a hand. "You brought it into the light."

"And I buried it."

"In a Were's body," he exclaimed, showing a hint of anger.

It might have been to cow me, but it had the opposite effect. Hell, I had already bound a demon tonight. I was on top of the world. "If you touch David…," I said, setting my cup aside.

But Rynn Cormel only raised his eyebrows, his anger disappearing at the amusement he found in my threats. "Don't try to bully me, Rachel. It makes you look foolish. I'm saying you broke the balance. The artifact is out. Power is shifting. Slowly, with the gentle pace of generations, but it will shift to the Weres."

He stood. I kept my attention off my splat gun, but I could feel it—utterly too far away.

"If you can find a way for the undead to retain their soul, then the numbers of the undead will grow at a similarly slow pace." He smiled, starting to button up his coat. "Balance is maintained. No one dies. Isn't that what you want?"

I put a hand to my middle. I suppose I should've expected this; no good deed goes unpunished and all. "And witches and humans?" I asked.

He looked out my kitchen window and into the dark. "Maybe that's up to you, too."

But what I heard was "Who cares?" Just wanting this to all go away, I said, "I don't know how to do it. You've got the wrong witch."

Rynn Cormel found his hat and, with a graceful swoop, plucked it from the floor. "I think I have the only witch," he said, brushing the matted dandelion seed from it. "But even if you don't find a way, others will see what you accomplished and will build on that. In the meantime, what have I lost by declaring your blood off-limits to all but Ivy? What have I spent in making sure that you and she have a chance to develop a blood relationship free of stress and trouble?"

I stifled a shiver, and my hand rose up to cover my neck.

"It's no effort at all," he said, then put his hat on.

Okay, he was keeping my butt safe from vampires. "I appreciate that," I said grudgingly. "Thank you."

A copper spell pot grated against the salt when Rynn Cormel pushed it aside with the toe of his dress shoe. "That's hard for you, isn't it? Owing someone?"

"I don't—" I started, then grimaced, rubbing my back where a cupboard knob had raked my skin. "Yes," I finally admitted, hating it.

His smile grew to show a slip of teeth, and he turned as if to leave. "Then I expect you to honor that."

"I don't belong to you," I shot after him, and he turned in the threshold, looking good in his long coat and stylish hat. His eyes were black, but I wasn't afraid of him. Ivy was a bigger threat, hunting me slowly. But I was letting her do it, too.

"I meant, I expect you to honor your relationship with Ivy."

"I do that already," I said, clasping my arms about myself.

"Then we are in perfect understanding."

He again turned to leave, and I followed him into the hall. My thoughts went to Ivy, then Marshal. He wasn't my boyfriend, but he was new in my life. And we were having the hardest time getting together to do the simplest thing. "Are you the reason Marshal and I weren't able to get together this afternoon?" I accused. "Are you going to drive him away so Ivy and I will fall into bed together?"

He was in my living room, and from over his shoulder he said, "Yes."

My lips pressed together, and my slippers scuffed the wood floor we had found under the carpet. "Leave Marshal alone," I said, hands on my hips. Kisten's bracelet fell to my wrist, and I shoved it back into hiding. "He's just a guy. And if I want to sleep with someone, I'm going to. You running off men isn't going to send me rushing into Ivy's arms, it's going to piss me off and make me miserable to live with. Got it?"

I suddenly realized I was swearing at a past leader of the United States, and I flushed. "Sorry for barking at you," I muttered as I fingered Kisten's bracelet and felt guilty. "It's been a hard day."

"My apologies," he said, so sincerely that I almost believed it. "I'll stop interfering."

I took a breath and unclenched my teeth before I gave myself a headache. "Thank you."

The sound of the front door crashing open made me jump. Rynn Cormel took his hand from the door and turned to face the hall.

"Rachel?" came Ivy's worried voice. "Rachel! You okay? There's a couple of guys out front in a car."

I glanced at Rynn Cormel. His eyes had gone black. Hunger black. "Uh, I'm fine!" I sang out. "I'm back here. Uh, Ivy?"

"Damn it all to hell," she swore, her boots clunking in the hall. "I told you to stay on holy ground!"

She barreled into the living room, almost pinwheeling to a stop. She flashed red, her short, dark hair swinging as she stopped. Her hand went first to her bare neck, then she forced it down to her leather-clad hip. "Excuse me," she said, her face going pale. "I've interrupted."

Rynn Cormel shifted his weight, and she cringed. "No, you're fine, Ivy," he said, his voice now deeper and measured. He had lightened his usual demeanor to lull me, and it had worked. "I'm glad you're here."

Ivy looked up, clearly embarrassed. "I'm sorry about your men at the car. I didn't recognize them. They tried to stop me from coming in."

My eyebrows rose, and Rynn Cormel's laughter shocked both Ivy and me. "If you bested them, they deserved it and needed the reminder. Thank you for correcting their poor interpretation of your skills."

Ivy licked her lips. It was a nervous habit I didn't see often, and my tension rose. "Um," she hedged, trying to tuck her short hair behind an ear. "I think I ought to call an ambulance. I broke a few things."