looked, and my tension slammed back into me. "Crap," I whispered, picking up the canister. It was the same three. I could tell by their hunched stature and the way they were breathing deeply. Jaw clenched, I stood up and put the fountain between us. Where was Ivy?
"Rache?" Jenks questioned. "Why are they following you?"
"I don't know." My thoughts went to the blood I had left on the roses. If I couldn't break the scent trail, they could follow me all the way home. But why? Mouth dry, I sat with my back to them, knowing Jenks was watching. "Have they winded me?" I asked.
He left in a clatter of wings. "No," he said when he returned a bare second later. "You've got about half a block between you, but you gotta get moving."
Jiggling, I weighed the risk of staying still and waiting for Ivy with moving and being spotted. "Damn it, I wish I had a car," I muttered. I leaned to look into the street, searching for the tall blue top of a bus, a cab, anything. Where the hell was Ivy?
Heart pounding, I stood. Clutching the fish to me, I headed for the street, wanting to get into the adjacent office building and the maze I could lose myself in while waiting for Ivy. But a big black Crown Victoria slowed to a stop, getting in my way.
I glared at the driver, my tight face going slack when the window whined down and he leaned over the front seat. "Ms. Morgan?" the dark man said, his deep voice belligerent.
I glanced at the Weres behind me, then at the car, then him. A black Crown Victoria driven by a man in a black suit could only mean one thing. He was from the Federal Inderland Bureau, the human-run equivalent of the I.S. What did the FIB want? "Yeah. Who are you?"
Bother crossed him. "I talked to Ms. Tamwood earlier. She said I could find you here."
Ivy. I put a hand on the open window. "Is she all right?"
He pressed his lips together. Traffic was backing up behind him. "She was when I talked with her on the phone."
Jenks hovered before me, his tiny face frightened. "They winded you, Rache."
My breath hissed in through my nose. I glanced behind me. My gaze fell on one of the Weres. Seeing me watching him, he barked out a hail. The other two started to converge, loping forward with an unhurried grace. I swallowed hard. I was dog chow. That's it. Dog chow. Game over. Hit the reset button.
Spinning, I grabbed the door handle and jerked it up. I dove in, slamming the door behind me. "Drive!" I shouted, turning to look out the back window.
The man's long face took on a tinge of disgust as he glanced behind him in his rearview mirror. "Are they with you?"
"No! Does this thing move, or do you just sit in it and play with yourself?"
Making a low noise of irritation, he accelerated smoothly. I spun in my seat, watching the Weres come to a halt in the middle of the street. Horns blew from the cars forced to stop for them. Turning back around, I clutched my fish canister and closed my eyes in relief. I was going to get Ivy for this. I swear, I was going to use her precious maps as weed block in the garden. She was supposed to pick me up, not send some FIB flunky.
Pulse slowing, I turned to look at him. He was a good head taller than me, which was saying something - with nice shoulders, curly black hair cut close to his skull, square jaw, and a stiff attitude just begging for me to smack him. Comfortably muscled without going overboard, there wasn't even the hint of a gut on him. In his perfectly fitting black suit, white shirt, and black tie, he could be the FIB poster boy. His mustache and beard were cut in the latest style - so minimal that they almost weren't there - and I thought he might do better to lighten up on his aftershave. I eyed the handcuff pouch on his belt, wishing I still had mine. They had belonged to the I.S., and I missed them dearly.
Jenks settled himself at his usual spot on the rearview mirror where the wind wouldn't tear his wings, and the stiff-necked man watched him with an intentness that told me he had little contact with pixies. Lucky him.