Mouth open, I looked at Trent. The shocked billionaire was backing to the door. 'Excuse me,' he said. 'This was a mistake. If you will release Quen, I'll leave.'
Ceri spun to him. 'My apologies for keeping you from your next appointment. You're a very busy man,' she said caustically, then turned her attention to Quen, slumped on the floor. 'Is he a good person?' she asked abruptly.
Trent paused, and the metallic stench tickling my nose grew stronger. 'Yes.'
'You should listen to him more often,' she said, crouching before him, her dress pooled like water turned to silk. 'That's why we have others around us.'
Jenks dropped down to me, and I wondered if Ceri thought of me like that. Sort of a servant with whom to talk things over.
Trent's eyes pinched in worry as Ceri muttered Latin, and a black shimmer of ever-after coated Quen. He snorted, the black splintering away to silver threads when his eyes opened. Scrambling up, he stood while Ceri found her feet with more grace. It was obvious by his chagrined expression that he was surprised and humbled. I couldn't help but feel bad for the man. Ceri was a handful, even when she wasn't pushing us around.
'Did you see what I did?' she asked him seriously, and Quen nodded, his green eyes fixed upon her as if seeing his salvation. 'Can you do it?' she asked him next.
Glancing at Trent, he nodded. 'I can now that I've seen you do it,' he said guiltily.
But Ceri smiled in delight. 'He didn't know you practice the dark arts, did he?'
Quen looked down, then blinked when he realized she was barefoot. 'No, Mai Sa'han,' he said softly, and Trent shifted uncomfortably.
Ceri laughed, the wonderful sound cascading over me like cool water. 'Perhaps we are alive yet,' she said, touching the top of his hand as if they were old friends. 'Keep him safe if you can. He's an idiot.'
Trent cleared his throat, but they were lost in each other's attention.
'It's what he was made into, Mai Sa'han,' Quen said, kissing the top of her hand, the gesture full of grace. 'He had no choice.'
Ceri sniffed as she drew her hand from Quen. 'Well, he does now,' she said saucily. 'See if you can't remind him of who and what he is.'
With a respectful nod, Quen turned to me. I, too, was given that same head bob, but mine was accompanied by a smirk I couldn't decipher. Jenks sighed from my shoulder, and I found myself rocking back off the balls of my toes. It seemed to be over.
'Just a minute,' I said, jiggling on my feet. 'Don't leave yet. Ceri, don't let them leave.'
Both men froze when Ceri smiled at them, and I jogged into my room. Snatching the two garment bags, I hustled back. I was alive— check. Still had the focus—check. Introduced Trent and Ceri—check.
'Here,' I said, dumping the two dresses into Trent's arms. 'I'm not working your lame-ass wedding. I'd refund your money, but you haven't given me any.'
Trent's face was murderously furious, and he dropped them on the floor. Turning on a heel, he stiffly walked out the door, leaving it open behind him. I heard his feet on the sidewalk and the sound of a car door opening and shutting, then nothing.
Quen made an elegant bow to Ceri, who drew her dress up and curtsied back, shocking me. Hesitating, Quen bowed again to me, and I gave him a sloppy see-you-later salute. Like I could curtsy? His dark face smiling, Quen followed Trent out and quietly shut the door.
My exhaled breath seemed to be very loud.
'Holy crap,' Jenks said, leaving my shoulder to make circles around Ceri. 'That was the damnedest thing I've ever seen!'
As if it had been a signal, the sanctuary was abruptly pixy-filled. My head started to hurt, and though I was obviously happy with how this had ended, I was worried, too. I had to get rid of the focus as soon as possible. 'Ceri,' I said, waving pixy kids from my path as I flung the discarded dresses over the back of the couch and hotfooted it into the kitchen to turn off the burner, 'just what am I to you anyway? '
She had followed me, and I was surprised to see Trent's gift in her hand when I glanced over my shoulder. 'My friend,' she said simply.
The stink was awful in the kitchen, and I wedged the window higher. See, this was why I liked coffee. You couldn't screw up making coffee. Even the bad stuff was good.
Using a hot pad, I moved the black kettle to the sink, the pops of superheated water startling me when the kettle hit the damp porcelain. 'You want some coffee?' I said, at a loss for what to do. I knew she'd rather have tea, but not made in something so dirty on the outside.
'I like him,' she said wistfully, and I spun, shocked at the shy tone.
'Quen?' I stammered, remembering him kiss her hand.
She was standing in the threshold to the kitchen, a dreamy look on her face where a powerful anger had just been. 'No,' she said, as if mystified at my confusion. 'Trent. He's so deliciously innocent. And with all that power.'
I stared at her as she took the lid off the gift box he had left and plucked an opal the size of a chicken's egg from it. Holding it up to the light, she sighed, 'Trenton Aloysius Kalamack…'
Twenty-eight
The sun had shifted across to the far wall of the kitchen, and I sat at the table wearing one of Jenks's human-size shirts over a black chemise. I had it on for the comfort factor; I wasn't looking forward to going to the morgue again. To my left was that jar of jalapeño salsa and a tomato for Glenn. To my right a cup of long- cold coffee sat beside my cell and the land line. Neither one was ringing. It was a quarter after noon, and Glenn was late. I hated waiting.
Leaning closer to the table, I eased another coat of clear polish over my index fingernail. The odor of acetone mixed with the scent of the herbs hanging over the center island counter, and the sound of Jenks's kids was a balm as they played hide-and-seek in the garden. Three more pixies were braiding my hair, Jenks playing supervisor to prevent a repeat of 'the snarl incident.'
'No, not that way, Jeremy,' Jenks said, and I stiffened. 'You go under Jocelynn, then over Janice before you do the double back. There, that's it. Got the pattern?'
A weary chorus of 'Yes, Dad,' brought a smile to my face, and I tried not to move as I painted my thumbnail. I could hardly feel the tugs on my hair as they worked. Finished, I capped the bottle and held my hand up for inspection. A deep, almost maroon red.
I brought my hand closer, noticing that the faint scar on my knuckle was gone, undoubtedly erased along with my freckles after I'd used that demon curse to Were this spring. I'd gotten the scar from falling through the screen door when I had been ten. Robbie had pushed me, and after he dried my tears and put a bandage on it, I sucker- punched him in the gut. Which sort of left me wondering if Ceri would be landing one on me when I least expected it.
Robbie and I had come up with this wild story that the neighbor's dog had tried to jump through it. Looking back now, I was sure Mom and Dad knew that the black Lab had nothing to do with the broken screen, but they hadn't said anything, probably proud that we'd settled our differences, then hung together to escape punishment. I rubbed my thumb against the smooth skin of my finger, sad the scar was gone.
The draft from Jenks's wings brushed my hand. 'What are you smiling about?'
My gaze fell upon my phone, and I wondered if Robbie would return my call if I left a message. I wasn't working for the I.S. anymore. 'I was thinking about my brother.'
'That is so weird,' Jenks said. 'One brother. I had twenty-four when I left.'
Focus blurring, I tightened the cap on the polish, thinking that when he had left home, it had been as if they had died. He knew it was a one-way trip to Cincy. He was stronger than I.
'Ow!' I yelped when someone pulled too hard. My hand came up to my head, and I turned, sending them
