Ким Харрисон: Every Witch Way But Dead

Keasley jerked, almost spilling his coffee. His eyes tracked Ceri's grace as she went to the freezer and, with Jenks's encouragement, pulled out a box of fries. She meticulously punched the buttons, her lip caught between her teeth. I thought it odd that the woman was over a thousand years old but thought the microwave was primitive.

"The ever-after?" Keasley said softly, and my attention returned to him.

I held my coffee before me with both hands, warming my fingers. "How is she?"

He shifted his shoulders. "She's healthy enough. Maybe a little underweight. Mentally she's been abused. I can't tell what or how. She needs help."

I took a deep breath, looking down into my cup. "I've got a big favor to ask."

Keasley straightened. "No," he said as he put his bag on his lap and started putting things in it. "I don't know who—or even what—she is."

"I stole her from the demon whose work you stitched up last fall," I said, touching my neck. "She was its—I mean, his—familiar. I'll pay for her room and board."

"That isn't it," he protested. Bag in hand, his tired brown eyes went worried. "I don't know anything about her, Rachel. I can't risk taking her in. Don't ask me to do this."

I leaned over the space between us, almost angry. "She has been in the ever-after the last millennium. I don't think she's out to kill you," I accused, and his leathery features shifted to a startled alarm. "All she needs," I said, flustered that I had found one of his fears, "is a normal setting where she can regain her personality. And a witch, a vampire, and a pixy living in a church running down bad guys isn't normal."

Jenks looked at us from Ceri's shoulder as the woman watched her fries warm. The pixy's face was serious; he could hear the conversation as clearly as if he was standing on the table. Ceri asked him a soft question, and he turned away, answering her cheerfully. He had chased all but Jih out of the kitchen, and it was blessedly quiet.

"Please, Keasley?" I whispered.

Jih's ethereal voice rose in song, and Ceri's face lit up. She joined in, her voice clear as the pixy's, managing only three notes before she started to cry. I stared as a cloud of pixies rolled into the kitchen, almost smothering her. From the living room came an irate shout as Ivy complained that the pixies were interfering with the stereo reception again.

Jenks yelled at his kids and all but Jih flitted out. Together they consoled Ceri, Jih soft and soothing, Jenks somewhat awkwardly. Keasley slumped, and I knew he'd do it. "Okay," he said. "I'll try it for a few days, but if it doesn't work, she's coming back."

"Fair enough," I said, feeling a huge weight slip off my chest.

Ceri looked up, her eyes still wet. "You didn't ask me my opinion."

My eyes widened and my face flamed. Her hearing was as good as Ivy's. "Um…" I stammered. "I'm sorry, Ceri. It's not that I don't want you to stay here—"

Heart-shaped face solemn, she nodded. "I am a stumbling stone in a fortress of soldiers," she interrupted. "I'd be honored to stay with the retired warrior and ease his hurts."

Retired warrior? I thought, wondering what she saw in Keasley that I didn't. In the corner came a high-pitched argument between Jenks and his eldest daughter. The young pixy was wringing the hem of her pale green dress, her tiny feet showing as she pleaded with him.

"Now wait a moment," Keasley said, curling the top of his paper bag down. "I can take care of myself. I don't need anyone 'easing my hurts.' "

Ceri smiled. My slippers on her feet made a hush across the linoleum as she came to kneel before him. "Ceri," I protested, right along with Keasley, but the young woman batted our hands away, the suddenly sharp look in her green eyes brooking no interference.

"Get up," Keasley said gruffly as he sat before her. "I know you were a demon's familiar and this might be how he made you act, but—"

"Be still, Keasley," Ceri said, a faint glow of ever-after red blurring her pale hands. "I want to go with you, but only if you let me return your kindness." She smiled up at him, her green eyes losing their focus. "It will give me a feeling of self-worth I truly need."

My breath caught as I felt her tap the ley line out back. "Keasley?" I said, my voice high.

His brown eyes went wide and he froze where he sat as Ceri reached out and placed her hands upon the knees of his work-faded overalls. I watched his face go slack, the wrinkles sliding into themselves to make him look older. He took a deep breath, stiffening.

Kneeling before him, Ceri shivered. Her hands dropped from him. "Ceri," Keasley said, his raspy voice cracking. He touched his knees. "It's gone," he whispered, his tired eyes going watery. "Oh, dear child," he said, standing to help her rise. "I haven't been without pain for so long. Thank you."

Ceri smiled, tears leaking out as she nodded. "Neither have I. This helps."

I turned away, my throat tight. "I have some T-shirts you can wear until I take you shopping," I said. "Just keep my slippers. They'll get you across the street at least."

Keasley took her arm in one hand, his bag in the other. "I'll take her shopping tomorrow," he said as he headed for the hallway. "I haven't felt good enough to go to the mall in three years. It will do me good to get out." He turned to me, his old, wrinkled face transformed. "I'll send the bill to you, though. I can tell everyone she is my sister's niece. From Sweden."

I laughed, finding it was very close to a cry. This was working out better than I had hoped, and I couldn't stop smiling.

Jenks made a sharp noise, and his daughter slowly drooped to land upon the microwave. "All right, I'll ask!" he shouted, and she rose three inches, her face hopeful and her hands clasped before her. "If it's okay with your mother and it's okay with Keasley, it's okay with me," Jenks said, his wings a dismal blue.

Jih rose and fell in obvious nervousness as Jenks hovered before Keasley. "Um, do you have any plants at your house that Jih might tend?" he asked, looking terribly embarrassed. Brushing his blond hair from his eyes, he made a wry face. "She wants to go with Ceri, but I'm not letting her leave unless she can be productive."

My lips parted. I sent my eyes to Ceri, seeing by her held breath that she clearly wanted the company. "I've got a pot of basil," Keasley said reluctantly. "If she wants to stay when the weather breaks, she can work the garden, such as it is."

Jih squealed, pixy dust falling from her in a gold shimmer that turned to white.

"Ask your mother!" Jenks said, looking upset as the excited pixy girl zipped out. He landed on my shoulder, wings drooping. I thought I could smell autumn. Before I could ask Jenks, a shrill tide of pink and green flowed into the kitchen. Appalled, I wondered if there was a pixy in the church that wasn't in that four-foot circle surrounding Ceri.

Keasley's wrinkled face was filled with a stoic acceptance as he unrolled the bag of supplies and Jih dropped inside to make the trip safe from the cold. Above the crinkled top of the bag, the pixies all cried good-bye and waved.

Eyes rolling, Keasley handed the bag to Ceri. "Pixies," I heard him mutter. Taking Ceri's elbow, he nodded to me and headed into the hall, his pace faster and more upright than I'd ever seen it. "I have a second bedroom," he said. "Do you sleep at night or during the day?"

"Both," she said softly. "Is that all right?"

He grinned to show his coffee-stained teeth. "A napper, eh? Good. I won't feel so old when I drop off."

I felt happy as I watched them head to the sanctuary. This was going to be good in so many ways. "What's the matter, Jenks?" I said as he remained on my shoulder while the rest of his family accompanied Ceri and Keasley to the front of the church.

He sniffed. "I thought Jax would be the first one to leave to start his own garden."