Kim Harrison - Pale Demon

“Uh, the kitchen,” he said, glancing at Jenks as if the pixy was going to protest.

A last hard look at Jenks, and I started for the hallway. Trent was standing in the doorway with Lucy, smelling of fresh baby powder and baby wipes, and his injured hand gently patted her as he rocked. I jerked to a stop when he didn’t get out of my way fast enough, my eyes dropping to the floor as I flushed. “Come on in,” I said softly. “I don’t think we have anything but water, but you’re welcome to it.”

He awkwardly edged back, and I breathed easier. “Ivy?” I called as I strode to the kitchen. “Belle’s been hurt!”

“Belle?” came from her room. “Is she okay?”

“I think so. I’ll let you know in a minute.”

Jenks’s wings were clattering, and Bis was a bright spot as he crawled along the ceiling to get there before me. His expression worried, Jenks dusted at my shoulder, not coming to rest there like he might have otherwise. “Ivy knew, too?” he asked, and I realized his somber mood wasn’t because he felt bad but because he was the last to know.

I flipped the bright kitchen lights on, squinting. Bis had said he’d talked to her; she had to be awake. “Jenks, if a fairy can hide in your garden for three months, then have the grace to help your kids survive an attack, don’t you think you should rethink your attitude?” I turned to him, and his defiance faltered. “You’re going to live to be forty years old. You’re going to have to grow up. It’s a small world after all, or didn’t you go on that ride?”

Wings silent, Jenks hovered dead center in the doorway, at a complete loss. Trent edged in around him, taking in the kitchen as he stood between Ivy’s farm table and the center counter. My annoyance at Jenks vanished in a flash of memory: a memory of Trent standing in my unreal kitchen, confused, irritated, and attractive as all hell as he tried to save my soul with a kiss. And then the kiss itself, burning its way through me, kindling my chi back to life. I’d been mortified when I’d woken up and discovered that the kiss had been real—which didn’t negate how good it had felt, but did lead me back to Trent standing with Lucy in his arms, his eyes roving over my kitchen as if comparing it to his memory.

Flustered, I turned, seeing the chrysalis trapped under the brandy snifter where my Mr. Fish had once been. My beta was still in the ever-after with Al, and I hoped the demon would remember to feed him. Maybe Pierce would do it—if he was still alive.

With a surprising jolt, my eyes started to swim and I spun before Trent could see, hiding my tears by opening the window behind me wider and letting in the night air and the sound of pixies. Someone was mowing his lawn at half-past midnight. They don’t sell lawn tractors with headlights for nothing. I didn’t know if my sudden emotion was relief that I was home—really home—or that I’d said good-bye to everything in the ever-after for good.

A small touch on my shoulder shocked me, and I stiffened to find Bis standing beside the sink, his eyes wide in concern as something he had no control over had set me to shaking. But even his worry did nothing to help; he was touching me, and I couldn’t feel a thing. There was nothing in my mind, nothing but a faint hum of elven magic coming from my wrist. And I missed the ley lines, even as I relished the freedom I now had.

“I’m fine,” I whispered to him, then squared my shoulders and turned slowly on my heel. “Belle?” I warbled, and Jenks stared at me like I’d gone nuts when I wiped the back of my hand over my eye. Trent made no comment, but he gingerly sat on the edge of Ivy’s chair, his foot in the cast tucked under it.

A ping at the rack over the center counter drew all our attention up, and Jenks flushed, swearing and dusting an embarrassed red when a tiny white-haired head showed over my smallest spell pot, the one with the dent in it. I still didn’t know how it had gotten there. The dent, not the pot.

“Welcome back, Rachel” came Belle’s curious hissing accent, sounding like crickets. “Have a good vacation?”

My eyes darted to Trent, thinking of the wingless fairies he now had in his garden. If he hadn’t known they’d come from me, he soon would. “I’ve had better,” I said, head craning. “Are you okay? Jenks said there was a fight.”

Jenks made a small sound as a thin line dropped from the bowl and Belle snaked down it. She looked odd in a bright pink pixy dress that was too short for her, and I glanced at Jenks on the spigot, his arms crossed and standing almost sideways so he wouldn’t have to face her.

“I’m fine,” she said, smacking her bare leg and the bandage there. “It’s going to take a few more days before I can pull my longbow with any strength, but I’ll mend. If I live or die, doesn’t matter. We held our territory.” Her eyes went to Bis on top of the fridge, and she smiled. “I like the shirt.”

“Thanks.”

I did a double take at the soft shyness in his voice. Jenks had heard it, too, and cleared his throat, making Bis blush a deep black.

“Your territory,” Belle amended, thinking that’s what Jenks had taken offense to. I wasn’t so sure.

Wings clattering, Jenks landed beside her. His eyes went to her bandage, then her face. She looked like a long-armed, sinewy Amazon next to him. “Uh, thank you,” he said grudgingly, glancing nervously at Trent, but the man was more interested in the spell pots over the counter, his hand gently patting Lucy as she slept. “I should have said that first off.” Belle’s sparse eyebrows rose, and he added, “Thanks for telling them what to do. They’re good kids, but—” He tried again. “You saved their lives. Please…stay in my garden. If you like.”

Even as hesitant and possessive as that had been, I looked at Bis in wonder. The gargoyle was grinning, accepting Jenks’s change of heart with a quickness only a kid could possess. I’d be a little more hesitant, but Jenks wouldn’t say anything unless he meant it.

Belle’s long features were pale and out of place with the pixy colors on her. “Your hair is getting long,” she said shortly, her tone giving nothing away.

Jenks’s hand went up to touch it. “Yeah, well, I don’t have anyone to cut it anymore.”

I wondered how these two warriors were going to find a way to exist together. Belle finally nodded her acceptance of his apology but clearly was withholding complete judgment.

Feeling awkward, I opened the fridge and cringed. Yep, we were down to water, ketchup, and a tub of butter. Maybe I could make Trent a virgin Bloody Mary; we had some Worcestershire sauce, too. “Anyone want to order pizza?” I said softly, wondering how long it would take for Quen to check out the graveyard.

“I do!” Bis chimed out, and I ducked when Jenks’s kids swarmed in from the garden and hallway, shouting out their toppings. Their high-pitched voices woke up Lucy, and she began to wail, frightened. Bis pinned his ears to his skull and made the jump to the top of the fridge. Trent frowned as he tried to calm Lucy, but the pixy girls were humming over her and scaring her even more. Clearly they had been eavesdropping, and the lure of pizza had overridden their fear of their dad. Nasturtium blossoms?

“Jenks!” I exclaimed as I shut the fridge door, and he shrugged.

Belle, too, had sat down, her bored expression clearly saying that it wasn’t her problem. “You’ve had nothing but pizza for a week,” she complained, her voice loud to be heard over the noise. “I would have thought you’d be tired of it by now.”

“Pizza?” Jenks exclaimed. “What about all the good food I put aside…” His voice faltered. “Never mind,” he finished, scowling at Bis, and the gargoyle went three shades darker in embarrassment. “I want you all out!” he shouted, and the noise was cut by about half, leaving only Lucy crying. “Out and watching that elf in the garden!”