Chapter Ten
I'll be sure Belle gets it," I said, smiling at the wingless fairy standing on the wrought-iron garden table, her long white braid almost to her waist and her pale, angular features in a tight knot. Still the mistrustful, scary-looking fairy waited until I put the little packet of stitching into my shoulder bag beside her on the table. Jenks sighed, and she hissed at him, making me shiver.
Sure, she was only six inches high, but she looked like a tiny, silver-cloaked grim reaper with her raggedy clothes made from spider silk, her long fangs used to crack the shells of the insects she ate, and the bow and toxic arrows she carried to shoot me or Jenks if we did anything she didn't like. Her butterfly-like wings were gone, burned off when she and her clan had tried to kill me and Jenks last summer, and their lack made her far more mobile even if she was stuck on the ground.
Mostly, I thought as she shot a corded arrow into the canopy and climbed the string into the surrounding greenery, taking the packet of cloth that Belle had asked me to bring to her. It had that stitching that Matalina's daughters had taught her, the one that gave beautifully around the wings. True, the fairies in Trent's gardens were wingless, but their children wouldn't be. It was odd, seeing the first steps of understanding between two longtime enemy races. Jenks had come a long way.
Knowing we were being watched by a handful of lethal assassins, I leaned back into my chair and tried to look relaxed instead of uptight. Trent's glassed-in garden felt stuffy; the propped-open door leading to the exterior gardens let in very little air. Outside, the early afternoon sun shone thinly on the largely empty spring gardens, but it was here that Trent had brought me for tea-which I thought totally weird. I'd thought that "tea" had been an excuse, something he could tell people instead of the ugly reality that he wanted me to come out so he could show me some illegal black-magic books-and maybe that's all it was. But tea and cookies were on the table, and I was hungry . . . Besides, Ellasbeth had arrived late, and I had bowed out of going to meet her. Ellasbeth had thought I was a hooker the night we had met. Arresting Trent at their wedding probably hadn't helped.
The cord Belle's sister had climbed snaked upward out of sight, and Jenks sniffed, nervously adjusting his garden sword on his hip.
"I thought you were beyond that," I said, fingering my cup of cooling tea. It smelled like Earl Grey, but I could take a few sips to be social. Jenks's comment that Trent shouldn't be alone drifted through me.
Jenks edged to the silver tray, his steps hesitant and his unmoving wings catching the light. "I don't know her," he said as he glanced up into the potted fig trees.
"Well, knock it off," I grumbled. "You're making me nervous."
"I don't know any of them," he said again. "It's not like I trust her with my kids."
But he trusted Belle with them, I thought. Small steps could make large journeys, if admittedly very slow ones. Fidgeting, I lolled my head back to look at the plate-glass ceiling as I waited for Trent to return. Ellasbeth was an idiot. How long did it take to drive half a mile and get settled? There were three chairs here.
"I still think you should let the ever-after collapse," Jenks said, his knees up almost to his ears as he sat on the rim of the silver tray, then got up when he realized his pants weren't as good of an insulator as he had first thought.
Frowning, I stood to look at the orchid jammed into the crook of two branches. Jenks followed me, and the brush rustled as the fairies shifted to keep him in their sights. "Earth magic will work for a while before it fades," he said, demanding my attention as he hovered between me and the orchid. "A year at least. You could take down a reality-based Ku'Sox before that. Ivy and I would help."
A spike of fear slid through me, quickly shoved down deep. I'd survived Ku'Sox by the skin of my teeth-every single time. But as I counted the new blossoms yet to open on the orchid, the thought of the end of magic rang through me with a new clarity. This was why Nick was helping the psychotic demon. An end or reduction to magic would put humans back in the driver's seat. I couldn't believe that Ku'Sox didn't have a way to keep magic alive with the ever-after gone, doling it out to the highest bidder. Or maybe Dali was right and this was simply a way to get me dead and the rest of the demons kowtowing to him.
I sat back down in Trent's chair so I could watch Jenks now fussing over the orchid and the path. "I might not be able to hear you if magic fails," I said as I took one of the gingersnaps I had brought over for Ray. "Ever think about that?"
Jenks's eyes widened. "Tink loves a duck!" he exclaimed, his wings clattering as he carefully untwisted a stem.
The cookie snapped between my teeth. "Might be a good thing," I said, chewing.
Wing clatter dropping in pitch, Jenks slowly dusted the plant. It was nerves: he gardened, I ate. "I didn't think about that," he said.
"This isn't only about the demons," I said, making a face when I washed the cookie down with a swallow of that awful tea. It was tepid, and it sucked dishwater. "Having no magic would piss off the vampires, the Weres, and the witches. We'd all survive, but can you imagine? Everyone would be at a disadvantage. Everyone except the humans."
Jenks darted back to the table. "Yeah? There was magic before the ever-after."
I took another one of Trent's fancy cookies that smelled like almonds. "The ley lines in the Arizona desert are dead. The demons killed them when they made the ever-after."
Jenks looked into the canopy when someone hissed. Hearing it, he hunkered down, trying to look meek in a butch sort of way. I snapped through my cookie, recalling how the dead lines in the Arizona desert had been unusually close together, overlapping like pickup sticks. Maybe they'd been forced together in order to make a hole in reality, ergo making the ever-after. There was something here. I just didn't have the time to think about it.
"Maybe you're right," Jenks said, as if it pained him to say it. "I still say we'd be better off without demons."
I wasn't so sure. Demons were mean, cruel, untrustworthy, and just plain nasty. But the memory of Al sitting in front of his fireplace trying to remember what he originally looked like only made me pity them. The elves had cursed them for trying to kill their entire species, and the demons had returned fire. I wondered if either side remembered what the original insult had been. Hadn't five thousand years of war been enough?
There was a lesson here, too. I didn't have time to think about this one, either.
Impatient, I ate another gingersnap, rubbing the crumbs between my fingers before I leaned back and closed my eyes. Jenks's wings buzzed as he flitted from flower to flower like a hummingbird. "If it stays warm, we're moving back in the garden this week," he said out of the blue. "All of us."
"Great! That's great," I said, not opening my eyes. "Are you still in the garden wall?"
"Belle is . . ." he started, and I opened my eyes when he hesitated. Finding him at a nearby orchid, I saw him shrug. "Belle is going to move into the wall, too," he said quickly, his wings turning red and his dust evaporating before it could hit the plant. "She can have the spare room. We'd just be sharing a front door is all, like you and Ivy."
Ahh, I thought as I sat up. "That's good, Jenks."
"She gets cold fast," he said as if I had protested her moving in with him, but maybe he was really talking to her sisters in the foliage. "It would be easier to just have one fire."
Chair scraping, I moved the plate of cookies farther away from me so I'd stop eating them. "I'm proud of you, Jenks," I said, and he flushed, his wings going full tilt.
"Yeah, well, she's not cooking for me."
My smile was faint but sincere. "I'm still proud of you."
Jenks flew to the table, looking tall next to the tiny cups Trent was using. "She's okay, I guess. By the way, that gargoyle that showed up last night is still there."
Frowning, I put my elbows on the table and rested my chin on the back of my hands. I would've thought that it was the same one from the ever-after, but there hadn't been enough scars. "The one that looks older than the basilica?"
Nodding, Jenks speared one of the gingersnaps, holding it over his head like an umbrella as he twirled it. "I don't like it, Rache. Bis wouldn't tell me what they were talking about."
"And you didn't just spy on them?"
"You don't think I tried?" Jenks angled his sword until the cookie was at his face. His expression thoughtful, he nibbled a corner off the cookie, looking like Willy Wonka eating an umbrella. "The little turd kept spitting on me. All the way across the Tink-blasted garden. They have better hearing than even Jrixibell."
I squinted up at the glass ceiling, bored. "I'll ask him tonight when he wakes up." I hadn't wanted to interfere, but if he was still there . . .
"I think they're spying on us." Wiping his mouth, Jenks put the nibbled cookie back over his head, resting his sword on his shoulder.
"They have a right to be concerned." Where in hell are Trent and Ellasbeth? My foot began to bob. "Bis went ape when Al cut off his contact with the ley lines. Can you imagine what might happen if they collapse?" Foot slowing, I thought about that. Maybe I could ask for their help. They might know something the demons didn't, something that wasn't written down.
Spinning on a heel, Jenks took a breath to say something, then hesitated when the cookie sailed off the tip of his sword and smack-pattered into the surrounding greenery. There was a rustle and hiss of delight, and I wondered if he'd done it intentionally, tasting it first so they wouldn't think it was treachery.
"Piss on my daisies, we have to save the demons!" he said, his eyebrows high when my attention came back to him. "I'm not going to let Bis go crazy."
Ignoring his foul mouth, I set three cookies on the retaining wall. Seriously, how did my life get so screwed up that I was giving cookies to fairies and busting my ass to save the demons?
The faint tap-tap of shoes coming down the path caught my attention, and I sat up. "It's about bloody time," I whispered, moving back to my chair before they could round the corner. But it was only Trent, and I watched as his somber silhouette moved slowly through the greenery, his fingers reaching out but not touching the plants in passing like they were old friends. I don't think he even knew he was doing it. His stance was upright, and he managed a faint, worried smile. Something was different.
"Where's Ellasbeth?"
"Waiting for coffee," he said, his green eyes meeting mine for a bare instant. "She doesn't like Earl Grey." His fixed smile grew even more stiff. "I'd have rather looked at the book out here, but do you mind coming in?" He looked at Jenks. "Both of you?"
Immediately I stood. "Sure. No problem."
His smile was a shade forced, and he shook his head when I reached for the tray. "You can leave it." His focus came to me, and he took a cookie before he turned back up the path. "Is that a new outfit? It looks nice on you."
Startled, I looked down at my black slacks and linen top. I'd spent almost an hour in my closet, trying to find something professional and casual that Ellasbeth couldn't label "hooker."
"Ah, no, but thank you."
Still smiling, he gestured for me to go with him. "Ellasbeth woke up Ray when she came in, and now she won't go down. She's usually such a docile, biddable little girl, but she's been fussy since . . . her sister is away." He took a bite of cookie, mood introspective. "I never realized how she depended on Lucy to make her wishes known. She's had to speak up more. I suppose that's good."
The cookie I'd just eaten went tasteless. "Trent-"
His head dropped, and my words cut off at his sudden stillness. "Ellasbeth has been very cooperative. Dropped her petition for Lucy. I think she wants to try to make this work again."
I froze, almost choking. Why is he telling me this? "Ah, that's great!" I said, not looking at him as I spun to find my shoulder bag. "If you two get back together, then there won't be any issues with Lucy at all, right?"
Jenks took to the air, a sickening green dust sparkling from him. "What a little cat scrotum!" he said, and both Trent and I stared. From the bushes, three hissing laughs sounded and were shushed.
"Jenks!" I admonished him, and he hovered, his hands on his hips and a disgusted expression on his face. "What is your problem?"
"Nothin'." Wings clattering, he flew between Trent and me, headed for the door, a bright silver sparkle falling to show his path.
Okay, my first reaction had been not far from that of Jenks, but honestly, there was nothing between Trent and me, and never would be. If he could make it work with Ellasbeth, it wouldn't be simply the girls who benefited, but an entire demographic of politically motivated elves. "Sorry," I said as I fell into place beside Trent, our feet hitting the cobbles at the same time. "He just doesn't like her."
Trent was silent, and I looked at him questioningly. "Right," he said quickly, then ate that cookie he'd taken, but I wasn't sure what was going through his mind, and that bothered me. Jenks had told me little of what happened when he and Trent stole Lucy from Ellasbeth, saying it was privileged information, but Trent clearly hadn't appreciated having to steal his own child.
"This is good, isn't it?" I said, glancing back at the unappealing cold tea to see the fairies descending on it.
Trent looked sideways at me. "Yes, of course it is. It would make everyone's lives much easier."
Damn it, I couldn't read the smile he was giving me, and the nerves suddenly started. What if that book was useless? What if Ellasbeth had brought it all this way, and I couldn't figure it out? What if . . .
We paused at the door and Trent punched in a code on the pad. It was too fast for me, but I was sure Jenks caught it. There was a heavy thunk of a lock shifting, and Trent nodded, easily moving the huge, perfectly balanced door. "I'm anxious to see what you make of the book she brought," he said, and Jenks buzzed in ahead of us, ever curious. "I remember looking at the pictures when I was about ten. I don't know where my mother got it. Probably stole it from Ellasbeth's mom, seeing as she willed it back to her."
He chuckled, but I thought he might be serious as I followed him inside. The hallway was brightly lit and sported beautiful close-ups of orchids in the morning dew, but the air smelled stale after the rich scents of the garden.
"You're going to have to look at it in the girls' closet," he said as we started down the carpeted hallway, heading back to the great room.
"A closet?" I said, trying to keep up with him. "You keep your magic books in a closet?"
"You keep your splat gun in a mixing bowl."
True.
Jenks flew ahead as we entered the lower level of Trent's great room. To my right was the huge three-story window ward that Lee had made, letting in light and sound but little else. Beyond its faint shimmer was the highly landscaped outside living area with a grill/kitchen and swimming pool. At the far end of the gigantic room was a fireplace large enough to roast an entire elephant in. In between was the grand staircase up to Trent's apartments.
"Since learning my father's vault downstairs was not secure, we moved everything to the girls' closet," Trent was saying as he headed for the stairway. "Ceri put some kind of demon ward on all the upstairs rooms. They aren't holy, but it has the same effect. There's no way in or out but the door, which only Ceri, Quen, and I have access to. If you ask me, it's safer than my father's vault. But the reason Ellasbeth insists you look at it there is because it's temperature and humidity controlled and the book is ancient."
That Ceri had warded the girls' rooms sounded about right, and I touched the smooth finish of a couch as we passed. The ground floor here was basically a big party room. Past the stairway was a dark and silent bar area, and behind that the kitchen and underground parking. I knew, because I'd run through it more than once. Damn it, what was I doing having tea and cookies with Ellasbeth while Ceri suffered all that Ku'Sox was capable of?
Jenks dropped from the ceiling, an excited silver dust trailing from him. "Rache!" he exclaimed as he landed on my shoulder, his wings never slowing as they drafted my hair back. "You'll never guess who's here!"
"Who?" I asked, almost afraid.
From the third-story apartments, I heard Quen's distinctive gravelly voice say, "I'll speak to the chef immediately, Miss Withon."
"See that you do," said an imperialistic feminine voice, and I stopped short at the foot of the stairs.
Quen? He was okay? He was back!