Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            His voice was low and suggestive, and though clean-shaven most of the time, Pike had a hint of stubble today. One of his canines had been chipped, and a pewter ring glinted dully on his right hand. It was his only bling other than the scars. Needless to say, the man’s personal allure went all the way, a much-needed attribute seeing as the living vampire was posing as Constance’s scion, working with Ivy to keep the Cincinnati vampires in line.

            True, Ivy and Pike were waiting tables and mixing drinks, but the reality was that they were keeping tabs on the city. Gossip, requests, complaints, the right word in the right ear—it was how things got done, and Ivy was all about seeing and settling a problem when it was small. Piscary had been training her from birth to take control of the city when she died her first death, and she had a knack for it.

            So it wasn’t surprising that Ivy and Pike had been doing a far superior job than most undead city masters. They didn’t make the demands on a population that a long undead did, and I think their success was much of the reason why the DC vamps had tried to supplant my rule with one of their own. Maybe if they hadn’t sent a psycho to oversee Cincy’s vampires, I might have ignored Constance, but regardless, I was clearly making them look bad, or rather, pointing out that there was no reason to put up with sloppy stewardship.

            “Good thing you called ahead,” Glenn said as he peered over my shoulder to the waiting list.

            “Piscary’s on a slow day.” I waved for Pike’s attention. I wasn’t here for a pleasant lunch; I was here to rescue David, and the pinch of that was growing in my gut.

            Pike lifted his hand in acknowledgment, and I eased down to my heels. The tension in his shoulders wasn’t obvious, but that’s why he made such a good enforcer.

            It was crowded and hot. Nina was downstairs, obviously, seeing as the sun was up, but the scent of her was everywhere, an intentional buzz for the living vamps upstairs, reassurance that they were taken care of and that a voice spoke to their concerns. True to his word, Pike had made the motif tomatoes, and pictures of various varieties adorned the walls like mug shots. There were little tomato lights over the bar, and a basket of them at the front door in recognition of Halloween. Six varieties of ketchup stood at every table because . . . well . . . they could.

            A mixed-population license hung over the unlit stone fireplace, and if not for needing an MPL to get a liquor license, I’d say it wasn’t required. Most humans became physically ill at the sight of a tomato, a quirk that Pike played on to keep them out. Glenn, though . . .

            I smiled through my worry as Glenn eagerly eyed the stand of ketchup beside the bar. “They are for sale,” I said, and the man’s expression lit with avarice.

            “Seriously?” he said, gathering annoyed and then wondering looks as he edged through the crowd to reach them. Glenn was comfortable with what and whom he liked, and I was proud of him as he took one of each variety, juggling them in his arms as if they were liquid gold.

            “You want some help?” I asked, and he held them closer, head shaking.

            Ivy was clearly trying to get out from behind the bar as she gave some last-minute instructions to a green-haired, lots-of-skin-showing bartender. I followed her pointing finger to Brad Welroe as her lips moved. The living vampire was dressed exactly like Pike, sitting behind the bar as he put olives on sticks. The man in his early forties was Pike’s brother, and he seemed a little lost as he chatted with people who obviously knew him but he had no memory of.

            A flash of guilt took me. Brad had no short-term memory. Worse, the curse was steadily eating away at his long-term, and he was losing his sense of self, day by day, week by week. The countercurse I’d tried hadn’t worked. Atlantean mirror, I grumped, a pang of worry taking me. Where in the Turn was I supposed to find one of those? I’d tried substituting a hand-polished mirror just last week. It hadn’t worked, and I was running out of ideas.

            That Cassie had opted out of lunch was probably a blessing in disguise. Brad was the one responsible for her employees being in long-term coma care, the living vampire having made a deal with Hodin for the ring that had put them there. Some might say that losing his mind was a just penalty, but no one deserved to be eaten alive like that.

            Exhaling, I squared my shoulders as Ivy finished her instructions and slipped from behind the bar. Heads inclined and bodies pressed back, getting out of her way. Her attention, though, was on me, and I smiled as I reached for her, pulling her close.

            “Rachel,” she said as she gave me a hug. “Perfect timing. Your table just cleared.”