Chapter Three
The kitchen was bright with electric light, loud with the shrieks of pixies, and with a snap, I flicked the coffeemaker on before turning back to my sandwich. It was a rather large room, newly remodeled with stainless-steel counters, two stoves, and my mom's old fridge with the automatic ice dispenser right in the door. My spelling equipment hung over the center island counter, copper pots and ceramic spelling spoons making it look less like the industrial kitchen at the back of a church that it had started out as. Ivy's thick country-kitchen table where she did most of her research was depressingly empty. She'd been gone this whole week, out in Flagstaff helping Glenn and Daryl get settled in their new digs.
Standing at the counter in my evening gown, surrounded by cold cuts, condiments, and a half-empty two-liter bottle of pop, I clenched my teeth and wished the pixies would go away. They were playing war among the hanging copper pots, giving me a headache. Copper was one of the few metals that wouldn't burn them, and they loved banging into it. Telling Jenks about the abducted Rosewood babies had been bad enough, but bringing Nick into it had left us both in a bad mood that his kids weren't helping get rid of. Nick. If there was anyone who could irritate me by simply breathing, it was Nick.
The self-proclaimed thief once professed that he'd loved me, and I think he had, inasmuch as he could love another person. He loved money and the security he thought that it represented more. I honestly believed that he felt justified for all the trouble he'd heaped upon me. I hadn't trusted him for a long time, but when he had betrayed not just me but Trent in the same breath, I'd written him off. That he lured Jenks's eldest son, Jax, into a life of crime and hardship just pissed me off.
I'd not heard from Nick since he had spirited himself-and presumably Jax-out of Trent's high-security lockup. Only a demon could have done it. I frankly didn't give a damn if Nick had gotten himself indebted to a demon, but I did care about who might be holding his leash-and why he was again on this side of the ley lines stealing Rosewood infants.
The big knife Ivy left out to scare magazine salesmen was too big to comfortably cut my sandwich, but I used it anyway, setting it down on the counter with a thud when an unpopped kernel of popcorn zinged over my head and clattered against the wall.
"Jenks!" My shout sent a strand of hair drifting. "Your kids are driving me nuts!"
From the sanctuary-turned-living-room I heard him yell, "Get the hell out of the kitchen!"
Sure. That ought to do it. Frowning, I set the sandwich on a napkin, little drops of water from the lettuce making spots on it.
I reached for a paper towel as Belle edged into the kitchen, riding Rex like an elephant. The fairy had her feet snuggled in behind Rex's ears and she gave the cat a tap with the end of her bow when Rex threatened to sit down and spill her backward. Changing her mind, the orange cat twined about my ankles instead. Belle was an odd contrast of a pixy silk's bright colors and a fairy's naturally gaunt paleness. Never would I have imagined that Jenks would suffer to let a fairy live in his garden, but the small warrior woman had somehow become a part of the church-even if it had been her clan who had killed Jenks's wife. That the fairy was now wingless might have something to do with it, but I think he admired her grit.
"Your dad s-s-says to get outs-s-side," she lisped around her long teeth, her face turned upright at the noisy battle. "You shame your-s-s-selves!" With a disgusted snarl, she smacked Rex's flank as she purred and rubbed against me, hoping for a fallen morsel. "Get out!" she yelled at them. "Now!"
My head was exploding from their noise, but about half of them started for the hallway, flying backward and still shooting popcorn kernels at each other with slingshots. Someone shrieked when a seed punched through her wing, and the shouted threats got serious as the girls sided against the boys. There was a sharp ping when a seed hit my biggest spell pot and ricocheted into me, making my eyes narrow. Jenks was giving them a lot of latitude, knowing that as soon as it warmed up, half of them were going to leave to make homes for themselves.
"All right, you lot!" Jenks shouted as he flew into the kitchen, a faint red dust of annoyance spilling from him. "You heard Belle. Get out before I bend your wings backward! If you're cold, put on the long johns Belle made you, but I want you outside clearing the lines! Jumoke, get your sister a patch. You made it, you fix it. Do it nicely or you're going to do midnight sentry with Bis no matter how cold it is!"
I tossed my paper towel, exchanging a weary look with Belle as they flowed out of the kitchen with a chorus of complaints, going across the hall and up the flue in the back living room by the sound of it. Jumoke, Jenks's only dark-haired son, helped the pixy with the hole in her wing, stoically taking the verbal abuse the eight-year-old pixy was heaping on him. She'd probably be on her own next year, fully grown and ready to start a family. Why Jumoke hadn't left yet was obvious. Black-haired pixies were often killed on sight by their own kind. He, at least, would be staying.
Belle nudged Rex into motion, and she followed them out. It was too cold for fairies, but if she was sitting on Rex, she'd be okay. The cat door squeaked, and Jenks flew a red-dusted path to the kitchen spigot, where he could watch the garden and his kids dispersing into the damp spring night. His hands were on his hips and his feet were spread wide, but he seemed more worried about Jax than the noise.
Belle's touch was showing in surprising places, and Jenks wasn't looking so much like Peter Pan these days. He still had the tights and garden sword at his hip that he used to chase off birds, but his usual green gardening coat had been replaced by a flashy multicolored jacket with tails and a dark orange vest. Belle's work. With the hunter-green shirt, it made a striking statement with his curly blond hair, trim physique, skintight boots and tights, and that narrow waist and wide shoulders. His dragonfly-like wings blurred to nothing as he watched the dusty glows from his grown children in the garden. Though his feet never lifted off, the noise of his wings increased when the cat-size shadow of Bis joined them; then he relaxed.
"Thanks," I said in relief as I took my sandwich to the table. "They don't listen to me."
Jenks frowned as he flew over the center counter, spilling a sour green dust on the cheese and making it glow briefly. "They don't listen to me, either."
It was a not-so-subtle reminder of Jax. Nick's sudden appearance had us both in a stellar mood. Uptight, I shifted to try to make the dress feel more comfortable, finally sitting sideways to the table in the hard-backed chair. My clutch purse and shawl were at Ivy's empty spot, trying to make it look less . . . empty.
Suddenly Nick didn't seem so important, and depressed, I leaned sideways over the table as I took a bite of my sandwich, trying not to get any of it on my dress. The coffeemaker on the counter gurgled its last, but I didn't bother to get up. Jenks descended from the utensil rack, using his sword to cut a pixy-size chunk of cheese. Spearing it on the tip, he angled the short sword up to eat it right from the blade.
"So-o-o-o," he drawled, his dust shifting to a more normal gold. "You never did tell me what Quen wanted."
I froze, then took another bite to give myself time to think. Nick had been on my mind when Quen dropped me off: Nick, demons, Rosewood babies. Quen's request hadn't even been in the theoretical kitchen, much less on a back burner. "Ah, he wanted to know if I'd take over some of his security duties."
"Tink loves a duck, really?" It wasn't the reaction that I had expected, and my chewing slowed when Jenks flew to sit on the back of Ivy's monitor where he could see me better. "You told him no, right?"
I made a little huff, trying to forget that surprising hug. "Trent doesn't need my help. You've worked with him. Tell me I'm wrong. Quen is a nervous worrywart. Trent can handle anything Cincinnati can dish out."
His eyes fixed on mine, Jenks tilted his head and bit off a chunk of cheese. "Sure, like his best friend locking him on a boat and blowing it up. Demons possessing said best friend. Said demon's ex-familiar living in his home, mothering the child he had with the woman who tried to kill him last summer."
I sighed. "You think I should have said yes?"
Jenks shrugged. "Trent always pays his bills."
I stared at him. "Who are you and how did you kill my partner?" I asked, and a faint red dust of embarrassment slipped from him. Last year, he would have been insulting Tink with a brandished sword for my even considering the idea, but then again, he had worked with Trent to rescue his daughter.
Head tilting the other way, he plucked the last chunk of cheese from the tip and ate it, licking the crumbs from his fingers. "Cincy is a fickle woman. One day you're leading her in a waltz, and the next she's smacked you and is walking on your face. Round the clock would be an insult, but someone to watch his back, someone in a dress who looks like a pushover and isn't always telling him what to do? Yeah, he'd go for that." His eyes met mine. "Especially if it was you."
The sandwich went tasteless, and I set it down, two bites in. I'd worked with Trent three times: the first to steal a thousand-year-old elven DNA sample from the ever-after-which ended badly; the second to apprehend HAPA-which turned out okay; and the last at a museum fund-raiser-where the assassins were aiming at me, not him. And yet . . . "I can't do it, Jenks. I can't work for him."
"So work with him, not for him," Jenks said, as if that distinction was the easiest thing in the world. "Hell, if I can work with him, you can."
"Sure, because you're great at backup," I protested. "But I'm not a backup kind of girl." Jenks nodded solemnly and I slumped, shoving the tomato back into my sandwich. "Trent isn't either," I muttered. "I'm not going to change, and I'm not going to delude myself that I can change him. I don't know if I would if I could." Focus blurring, I gazed past the kitchen's blue curtains to the foggy night beyond.
"Good, because you can't." Jenks dropped down, his wings rustling as they lay flat on his back. "No one can change anyone but themselves."
My thoughts drifted again to the unusual hug Trent had given me, and then his request that I come out to talk about the abducted infants. I knew the subject of security would come up again. I could see it already, Quen forcing the issue and both Trent and I staunchly against it. I wasn't averse to spending time with Trent, and I liked kicking ass that needed kicking, but either I was in charge of his security and he took direction from me, or I wasn't. "People don't change," I whispered, silk sliding as I stood to get a cup of coffee.
"You did." I turned from the open cupboard to see Jenks smirking at me. "You're a hell of a lot easier to work with than you were a few years ago." He paused. "Tink's little pink rosebuds, has it only been a few years? It seems like three times that."
The sound of coffee chattering into the porcelain was comforting, and I smiled faintly. "He invited me out tomorrow to go over the abductions. If it's warm enough, do you want to come? I could use your take on things."
Jenks struck a pose as if shooting from the hip. "Pow! See? You never would have asked me that two years ago. Hell, yes, I'll come. Elf babies are almost as cute as pixy newlings. What time, so I can get Belle to watch my kids?"
Cup cradled in my hands, I leaned back against the counter and winced. "Eleven."
He snickered. "I'll wake you up at nine," he said, then flew to the counter, dust sifting silver and gold from him. "Felix knows about Nick, right? The I.S. probably has an APB out on him already. I bet that put slugs in Trent's roses."
"I didn't tell Felix," I said, eyes flicking to Jenks, and the pixy's eyes widened. "Quen didn't tell him, either."
"Why the hell not? He was right there!"
"What would be the point?" Avoiding his eyes, I came back to the table. "I can't prove anything. All I've got is a hunch." Admittedly, a pretty good hunch, but still just a hunch.
Jenks hovered at the coffeemaker to catch a drop in a pixy-size cup. "Like needing proof ever stopped you before."
Blowing over the top, I took a sip. "You're the one who said I was capable of change. Besides, if there's one thing Nick can do, it's disappear. He's long gone."
Sitting cross-legged on the coffeemaker with his cup, Jenks frowned. "And lie. He's really good at that." Wings slipping silver dust, he eyed me. "You should call him."
"Felix?"
"No, Nick!" Jenks looked at my clutch purse. "You've still got his number, don't you? It might still work. Ask him if he's involved. Even if he lies, you'll be able to tell. At the very least, you'll know if he's here or in the ever-after."
I sat for a moment and thought about it. I'd never bothered to take Nick's number out of my phone. I didn't know why. Maybe because I had so few friends whose number ever made it that far. Jenks made a get-on-with-it gesture, and I half stood, my dress pinching as I stretched across the table to reach my clutch bag. "Okay, I'm game."
Jenks flew over to eavesdrop, and I wondered if he'd suggested it in the hopes of finding out about Jax. I heard a stitch give when I fell back into my chair with my purse. Wings clattering, Jenks hovered over my open phone as I scrolled, his dust making the screen blank out until he moved away.
"Tink's panties, why do you still have Denon's number in your address book?" Jenks said, and I made a face at him. Not only was Denon no longer my boss, but the man was dead, entombed and burned to ash in one of Cincy's tunnels. I helped with the last part, but he got dead all on his own.
"You got a problem with that?" I asked him, and he held his hands up in surrender. Embarrassed, I punched Nick's number and put the phone to my ear. The hum of Jenks's wings was loud as he came to sit on my shoulder so he could hear.
"I don't think it's good anymore," I said, but then my bobbing foot stilled when the phone machine clicked on and an automated voice told me to leave a message. It was generic but familiar. The number was good. I finally got a beep, and I filled the silence with my attitude.
"Hello-o-o-o, Nic-k," I said, hitting the K hard. "You might want to consider getting a new number if you're going to be doing bad-guy stuff." Jenks flew backward off my shoulder, giving me a thumbs-up with both hands. "I saw you tonight-running away as usual. If I catch you, you will be in the I.S. lockup with a zip strip bolted to your forehead. That's a promise from me to you, you hear me, crap for brains? These are babies, not a piece of antiquated piece of history no one cares about. You are stealing someone's child, and I'm going to-"
The phone clicked. "Rachel."
The flat sound of my name cracked through me, and my eyes darted to Jenks, now standing on my plate. It was Nick all right, his tone dry and accusing. The image of his narrow face, scruffy stubble, and casual, unkempt clothes flashed through my mind, and my gut tightened. What had I ever seen in him? But behind his rough exterior was a wickedly clever mind, one that was going to get him in a hole in the ground.
"Oh," I said lightly. "So you have a pair after all, huh?"
"You left me with no recourse but to sell my soul," Nick said.
"Oh please." I stood, pacing to the other side of the kitchen with Jenks hovering by my ear. "You sold your soul all on your own. I never made you summon a demon. I asked you once, but you were summoning him already, so I'm not taking the blame for that. Besides, you don't belong to Al. Who owns you, Nickie? Is it Newt? You almost deserve her."
"There you go again," he said, his bitter laugh clear through the phone. "Jumping to the wrong conclusion. Listen to me this time. You left me with no recourse but to sell my soul. Thank you." My lips parted. "I never would have met Ku'Sox any other way."
Oh. Shit. My gut tightened even more, and Jenks dropped to the counter before me, pale and his wings unmoving. Ku'Sox was totally deranged and psychotic-along with coddled, endured, and hated by his entire race as their beloved and mentally unstable attempt to circumvent the elven curse that had made them basically barren. The lab-created demon had a tendency to eat people alive because he thought his soul was missing something. Maybe he was right. Nick stealing surviving Rosewood babies for him wasn't for the good of his species. He was up to something, something really bad. I had to call Algaliarept. My teacher had to know of this like yesterday.
"Son of a Disney whore," Jenks whispered.
I spun, hearing the silence of the church. "Listen to me," I said, and Nick snorted. "Ku'Sox is psychotic. He'll kill you as soon as he has everything he needs."
"Which is why I haven't told him how to make the enzyme that keeps his babies alive," Nick said, his voice distant. "God, you think I'm stupid?" He wasn't really paying attention, and that made me even angrier.
"You think you have something on him?" I exclaimed, and I heard pixy kids whisper from the hallway. "Nick, you almost deserve what's coming. Just stop. Okay? Stop. If you stop and go away, I won't have to hurt you. Better yet, put the babies back, and maybe I can get the rest of the demons to not kill you, too. You're not going to come out of this alive."
"You're not the only one who wants to cheat death," he said bitterly. "I'm hanging up now. Don't bother calling back. This number isn't going to work anymore."
I stared at the phone as he clicked off. "Son of a bastard," I whispered, knowing now why he'd gone to Ku'Sox. He wanted power and was hoping Ku'Sox would give it to him. "Sweet loving son of a bastard." More tired than angry, I leaned against the counter, my dress pulling tight against me. Head bowed, I set the phone down with an exaggerated softness. Nick was going to get himself killed, but not before he hurt a lot of people and broke the balance of power that kept Inderland and humans from open conflict. Ku'Sox was halfway to making his own army of day-walking demons-unless I did something about it.
My dinner sat on the table across the kitchen, the two bites out of it looking odd and disconnected-coffee and a sandwich when I'd been expecting to end my day with grilled salmon and tiramisu. "Where's my scrying mirror?" I said softly, and Jenks lit into motion, darting to the open shelving under the counter.
Lungs full of stale air, I leaned to get it. My dress tightened again, and with a smooth motion, I pulled the scrying mirror from between the demon textbooks and my favorite cookie book. Holding it tight to my chest, I sat back down in my chair and rested it on my knees. It was wrong side up, the flat silver back dull and mundane. "I'm calling Al," I said, though that was obvious. "He needs to know what's going on."
The red-wine-tinted glass sent sparkles through my fingertips and the tops of my legs as I arranged it right side up, the silver-edged etchings that I'd put in it catching the light and gleaming. The round, plate-size glass holding the demon curse had been scribed with the figures to make it into sort of an interdimensional cell phone. It was really beautiful, and the fact that I had made it was a source of guilty pride.
"Keep your kids out in case he comes over," I warned Jenks, but he had already chased them back into the garden, and I set my right hand in the center glyph. Tapping a line, I felt my mind expand as my awareness was dumped into the demon collective. I could still see the kitchen, hear the pixies playing outside, but I could also hear the faint whispers of a handful of conversations-demons in their chat room, I guess. It was uncomfortable, but it would ease if I could get Al to pick up.
Rachel calling Al, come in, Al, I thought sourly. It wasn't even midnight yet. He should still be up. Most demons kept to a witch's sleep schedule, and they did sleep. Al had given me his bedroom after examining the closet-size room I'd purchased from another demon. His old room had safeguards built into the walls, and he didn't trust I could take care of myself-yet.
Yo! Are you there, Your Immenseness? Come in, Al. I need to talk to you!
Jenks's wings were humming, and my move to look up at him was cut short when Al's thoughts slid into my mind, somehow maintaining the slightly dry, lordly tone of a British aristocrat that his verbal speech invariably had. What do you want? We're busy.
"We?" I said aloud, knowing that my verbal speech would carry through the mirror, reflected perfectly in my thoughts. Jenks wouldn't be able to hear Al's responses, but it was polite to include him as much as I could.
Ah, me, Al amended, his embarrassment making it through the attempted barrier that he tried unsuccessfully to erect between us. What do you want? I'm busy. If it's about canceling your next lesson, forget it. Wednesday midnight, or I'll find you.
I hesitated, getting the faintest impression of books and candles, but his thoughts weren't tinged with thoughts of the library. He was in his closet of a room, etching the walls with curses to make a new safe room. Paranoid, are we? "Ah, we might have a problem," I said, meeting Jenks's eyes and seeing his encouragement. "It's Nick."
How many nasty little men do you need, love? Isn't Trenton enough? Al thought, clearly distracted. You can't have him. Ku'Sox would put too high a price just because it's you. Cut him loose. He's toad shit.
My jaw dropped. Hovering across from me, Jenks's wings dropped in pitch as he reflected my shock, not knowing why. "You know Ku'Sox has Nick?" I said, warming. "And you don't care? You didn't tell me?"
Of course I know. And no, I don't care. His thought was distant, as if I was only getting half his attention, and I wondered what he was doing. Why do you? If all you're after is abuse, I can give it to you far more deliciously than a human.
I frowned at the wave of titillation he'd put in his words. "Do you have any idea what he's capable of?"
Ku'Sox?
"No, Nick!" I pressed my fingers more firmly into the glass. He was losing interest.
Oh, for the two worlds colliding, Al thought, clearly bothered. Can this wait?
"No!" I said, and Jenks crossed his arms over his chest to mirror my distress. "How did Ku'Sox get Nick? The two of them couldn't have met before."
That I knew for a fact. The timing was off. I waited, shoving needlelike thoughts of impatience at Al's mind, threatening him until he found out for me. Sure enough, he made a huge mental sigh, thinking, Hold on a sec.
I took a breath to complain, but he was gone. I shuddered-it felt as if I suddenly lost half my mind when the thousand half-realized musings that go on in the back of our awareness abruptly vanished. I hadn't lost my mind, of course, but Al and I had been sharing mental space by way of the scrying mirror, and I felt the loss of his background noise when he left.
"He's checking," I said, then jumped as my focus blurred briefly as Al came drifting back into my head.
Ah. Here it is, the demon muttered, and I pressed my fingers against the scrying mirror to improve the connection. Ku'Sox won him in a bet. One concerning you, actually.
I put my free hand to my forehead and massaged it. Jenks landed on the table beside me, his tiny features drawn up in concern. It was as I'd feared. Ku'Sox on his own was bad enough, but add in a thieving, magic-using human who didn't mind getting dirty, and we were in trouble. Won him, eh? I thought derisively. This omnipotent crap you guys think of yourself is going to get you all killed. Nick is devious. Ku'Sox is worse. Together, they're really bad.
Al's spark of amusement darted through me, alien and at odds with myself. He belongs to Ku'Sox. That should be some consolation. Abject humiliation . . . blah, blah, blah. He somehow gave the impression of leafing through papers. It's all perfectly legal.
"I doubt abject humiliation is what's going on. Nick is over here in reality," I said, and Jenks smirked. Frowning, I turned back to the mirror, seeing a very faint reflection of him in its reddish depths. I thought it interesting that the pixy showed up better than me. "Did you know Nick is stealing Rosewood babies?" I said shortly, and Jenks's dust pooling on the mirror shifted to a sick-looking blue. "Thriving Rosewood babies? Nick knows the enzyme to keep them alive. Stole it from Trent. He's injecting it into them, prolonging their lives, then stealing them. Eight so far."
Al's amusement only ticked me off. Ah. You think Ku'Sox is making little yous? I don't blame him, seeing as you don't like him. Long-term planning. Good for him. It will keep the freak busy for a few decades. First thing the brat has done right since he got out of a test tube. I'm proud.
Al's thoughts were going distant, and I pressed my hand harder into the glass until it ached with the thrum of energy running through it. "He's not doing this for the greater demon good," I said sharply. "In ten years, he's going to have a bunch of preadolescent, very powerful day-walking demons who look to him for everything right down to their continued existence. Nick knows the enzyme, not the cure. The moment they don't get the enzyme, they die. You think that little fact is going to escape Ku'Sox?"
Breath held, I felt Al consider that. A hint of worry colored his usual confidence. If he were actually next to me, I probably wouldn't have been able to detect it, but here, with our consciousness twined together, it was harder to hide. And just as I knew he was concerned, he knew I was deadly serious. Mmmm, he finally thought. Is that coffee I smell in your thoughts? With an abruptness that told me he was taking me seriously, he snapped our connection.
I sucked in my breath and jerked my head up, shocked. "Damn," I whispered, curling my shaking fingers under into a fist. The lingering energy swirled, hurting until it was reabsorbed. "I hate it when he leaves that fast. He's coming over." Fingers aching, I slid the mirror onto the table and stood, rubbing my hands together to try to rid myself of the lingering prickles of magic. "Scrying mirrors are like party lines. This is a good thing." I think. "You staying?"
Jenks casually cleaned his sword on a torn corner of napkin and nodded.
I smiled, carefully setting my scrying mirror beside my cooling coffee. "Thanks. He's easier to deal with when he thinks people trust him."
"Trust?" The pixy held the blade up to the light and squinted at its shine. "I trust him all right. Trust him to get away with whatever he can."
As if on cue, there was the barest tug on my awareness as Al gently misted into existence without even the hint of a shift in the air. Appearing in the threshold, he sniffed, his eyes going to the steaming pot of coffee. The demon was taller than me, his overdone buckled boots giving him an advantage. He was wearing his usual crushed green velvet frock coat with the lace at his throat and cuffs, having gone on to add a matching top hat, a scarf to protect against the night's mist, a cane he didn't need, and his usual round blue-tinted glasses. They did little to hide his red goat-slitted eyes, and I knew he didn't need them to see with. Al was all about show, and he liked the image of a bygone British nobleman.
"Rache-e-el," he drawled, eyeing me over his glasses as he loosened his scarf and came in, boots grinding leftover circle-salt into the linoleum. "Sweats at your trial, gowns in your kitchen. You simply must learn how to dress yourself properly. Or did you go all out for me?" His expression souring, he gave Jenks a disparaging glance.
Jenks wrinkled his nose in disgust at the rank smell of burnt amber now permeating the air. "Sweet ever-loving Tink," he said, rising up and holding his nose dramatically. "Haven't you learned how to take a shower yet? You smell like a burning tire."
"Stop it," I said, knowing Al couldn't help it. The ever-after stank like burnt amber, and it rubbed off on you. I still noticed it, but it didn't seem to have the same impact anymore, which bothered me for some reason.
"I didn't get dressed up for you," I said, hoping the pixies stayed out. "I haven't had time to change from my, ah, date is all."
Al pulled his bared-teeth smile from Jenks, mellowing as he turned to me. "Is that so?"
Wanting to improve his mood, I went to get him a coffee. Al propped his cane in the corner and sat in Ivy's chair by the door, knowing it was the throne of the room. Settling himself with a pompous air, he shook out his sleeves and took a deep breath to speak.
I spun when six pixies came burst in, shouting about something or other. Jenks rose up, but as soon as they saw Al, they flew out screaming. Jenks shrugged, and Al grinned to show me his flat, blocky teeth. "You do have an interesting life," he said, fluffing the lace at his cuffs. "Now, about Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos. Stealing Rosewood babies? How sure are you that he's not collaborating with Trent?"
Shocked, I almost sloshed his cup over. "Pretty sure. Trent seemed as angry as I was when we met at the crime scene."
"You wore that to a crime scene? No wonder they don't take you seriously." Al rolled his eyes dramatically, and frowning, I extended his coffee to him. His eyebrows rose at the rainbow mug, and in a huff, I sat down beside my uneaten sandwich and pushed it away. He was eyeing the cold cuts still out, and I gestured for him to help himself. Coffee I'd get him, but if he wanted a sandwich, he was going to have to make it himself.
Pinkie extended, he sipped from his rainbow mug, his eyes closing in what had to be bliss. "Oh, this is marvelous! Rachel, you have made a capital cup."
"Al, about Nick," I said impatiently, and Al set his coffee aside, rubbing his hands in anticipation as he went to the center counter. "Trent wouldn't help him. He doesn't want to see more Rosewood babies turning into demons any more than I do."
Standing behind the counter, Al shook water off the lettuce, looking odd in his silk and velvet. "Trent has been known to work with Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos before," he said, using his full name to denote his familiar status. "The tricky elf freed Ku'Sox from the prison we put him in. He allowed Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos to escape from his lockdown." Al put a gloved finger to his nose. "Sounds suspicious."
I frowned, chin lifted as I refused to let his doubt poison me. "Trent didn't let Nick go. He was abducted by a demon, probably one that Nick called for that very reason, and probably the same one Ku'Sox got him from."
"You sound proud of the little man," Al drawled, and my lips parted when, with a tug on my awareness and a cascading sheet of ever-after, the vision of a British nobleman vanished, replaced with a heart-stoppingly familiar vision of Nick.
"Son of a Disney whore," Jenks whispered, but I'd gone cold, seeing Nick with his thin build, shaggy mop of dark hair, and sparse stubble. Al even had the faded jeans, tatty sneakers, black T-shirt with the lumberjack-style shirt open and hanging loosely over his narrow shoulders. A chill went through me as he layered cold cuts on white bread, looking like Nick until he blew me a kiss and winked at me with his goat-slitted eyes with a confidence only Al could command.
"That's not funny," I said.
"Ahh, you do hate him." His voice was his own, and I shivered as Al put a last slice of bread atop his pile. Seeing me turn away, he sent a second shiver of ever-after over himself and was back to his usual appearance. "Good for you, Rachel," he said as he brought his sandwich to the table. "Hate is all that keeps us alive when love is gone. You're almost there. Not quite ready to let it go yet." Sitting, he took a large bite. "God slay me, this is good."
Shaken from the reminder of Nick, I crossed my knees. "So you believe we've got a problem?"
He bobbed his head, not letting go of his sandwich to take a sip of his coffee. "We might," he said, downing half of it in one go. "But you understand I simply cannot go to Dali with your scary bedtime story of killer demon babies."
Jenks's wings clattered in disgust. I, too, wasn't happy, my foot starting to bob.
"Ku'Sox hasn't done anything against the law. That is, our law," Al said, one hand holding his sandwich, the other his coffee. "Especially if these children are potentially demons. It's the first time he's ever shown a hint of an interest in seeing our species regain its health and should be applauded. As for Nick? He's just a human. Mostly harmless."
Outraged, I stood. "Al, you are underestimating the danger here. Yes, Nick is just a human, but he's not afraid to do things that might kill him if he thinks the risk is good. You can't fight something like that. Will you just listen to me? How come no one listens to me! Is it the dress?" I snapped, my anger misplaced but real. "Maybe the curves? If I shaved my head and dressed like Newt, would you take me seriously then?"
The demon's chewing paused as he sent his eyes over my shape, silent as he took a sip of coffee. "Now, now, no need to go to extremes," he said softly. "Where is the proof that he's planning mischief, itchy witch?"
My shoulders slumped. If he was calling me itchy witch, he believed me, believed the danger, and that was all I wanted. "I talked to him. He as much as admitted so."
Red goat-slitted eyes showing over his glasses, Al made a bland face. "You talked to Ku'Sox?"
I blinked. "God, no. Nick."
"Ahh." Clearly relieved, he took a bite of sandwich. "Then you have nothing," he mumbled around his full mouth.
Frustrated, I slumped back into my chair, my elbow just missing my scrying mirror. Jenks's dust sifting down seemed to fall through the glass, but I was too frustrated to care.
"Oh, very well," Al grumped with bad grace. "I suppose you'll be bad-tempered until I talk to Dali. I'll do it in the morning-he's crankier than you if he doesn't get his beauty sleep."
My head came up, and I smiled, glad I had him to go to. Then I wondered how I'd gotten to the point where going to a demon was a good thing. "Thanks," I said, meaning it.
Al stood, coffee in one hand, half-eaten sandwich in the other. "Indeed," he said, then vanished in a wash of ever-after. His cane in the corner went with him, and then my eyes darted to the counter when the coffeepot popped out.
"Hey!" I shouted, but it was too late. My fingers drummed once in discontent, but I could sympathize. You couldn't get a cup of decent coffee in the ever-after for any amount of money. I'd pick the coffeepot up Wednesday, but experience told me that a rank burnt-amber smell would taint the coffee for weeks.
"What an ass," Jenks scoffed. "He took our coffeemaker!"
Shrugging, I went to open the window. "I'll get a new one tomorrow on the way out to Trent's." The slider moved up with its accustomed ease, and I stood a moment, listening to the pixies playing in the night as the stink of demons filtered out. My thoughts went to Nick, and my heart hardened. He had lied to me, misled me, and betrayed me time and again. I'd warned him, and I wouldn't feel guilty for whatever happened.
"You going to call Ivy?" Jenks asked, and I turned, my arms around my middle as I looked at her empty chair and her shut-down computer. Anything left open was going to smell like ever-after, and I bent to get the trash can out from under the sink. My first impulse was yes, seeing as she would like a piece of Nick's ass in a glass as much as me, but she'd tell Glenn, and Glenn didn't work for the FIB anymore. He had retired after finding out that HAPA had infiltrated the FIB, refusing to work for a company he couldn't trust implicitly and moving to Flagstaff with Daryl in the hopes that the higher elevation and cleaner air would help the nymph. Calling Ivy would only get them all in a turmoil.
Pinning the trash bin against the center counter, I ran my arm over the counter, throwing away the food that was open. "No," I said, and I met Jenks's eyes when he clattered his wings in disapproval. "It's the first time she's ever done anything healthy in her relationships," I said, not sure it was the right thing to do. "I'm not going to screw it up. She'll be back in a week."
Jenks's dust shifted from an uneasy green to a more neutral silver. "Yeah, maybe you're right," he said as he flew to sit on the windowsill to watch his kids.
But it didn't feel right.