Chapter Twenty-four
Jenks's front door opened to a black tunnel slightly larger than the door itself. We had to step down to enter, and the unusually deep drop jarred all the way up my spine. It was dark but for the light coming in behind us, and there was no echo. The air smelled of ginger, and my clenched jaw eased. There was a tweak on my awareness, and a soft glow grew at Pierce's feet. It was that mundane ley-line light charm he knew, and I gingerly picked it up, able to handle the globe where Pierce couldn't. If he tried, his aura would probably break the charm. The ball of ever-after was cool to the touch, and slippery, as if it was going to ooze right through my fingers.
Pierce took his hat off and shut the door behind us. Wonder crossed him, and I followed his gaze to the ceiling and walls. Pixy dust coated everything, catching the light and throwing it back to make it brighter yet. Grooves had been carved to collect the pixy dust, and they glowed the brightest to show fantastic patterns of swirls and spirals. It was singularly beautiful, and I wondered that it had all been made in less than two years. Jenks's family was amazing.
"Jenks?" I called softly, remembering we hadn't been invited in.
Pierce's hand landed on my shoulder, heavy with warning. "Wait."
I turned in protest, only to watch as a green-tinted bubble of ever-after snapped into existence around us. "Holy crap!" I shouted, pressing into him when a wasp as big as my entire upper body landed on the circle, stinger probing the bubble for a way in. "What in hell is that!"
Pierce put an arm around me so I wouldn't hit his circle. "That's a rip-roaring fine guard dog, that's what that is," he said, and the scent of redwood hit me hard. "I don't think we would smell right even if we swam in pixy dust," Pierce muttered, and I silently agreed, thinking Pierce smelled fine just the way he was.
I wasn't afraid of wasps, but the thing was the size of a goose, crawling over the bubble with its wings at an angry tilt. "I'm going to fry it on the count of three," I said, thinking that enough raw ever-after energy ought to stun it at least. Why I didn't balk at killing a wasp was simple - wasps weren't intelligent. "One, two, three!"
The bubble dropped, and I pulled on the line, throwing a ball of smutty gold at the insect. Fear gave it more force than usual, and my eyes widened as the energy swarmed over it and the wasp curled up and fell at our feet. Pierce grunted his approval, and I breathed a sigh of relief seeing it on the floor where Pierce could simply stab it... and then it exploded.
Shrieking, I ducked as hot splatters hit the walls to make an ugly sound. An awful stench rolled over us, and I straightened, horrified. Pierce's ball of light rolled until it found the wall and stopped. Embarrassed, I turned to Pierce only to laugh. He was standing ramrod straight with splatters of wasp on his beard and chest.
"Pierce, I'm so sorry!" I said, reaching to wipe it away, his lips pressed tight.
"You have no control," he said stiffly, clearly peeved. "None at all."
Sobering, I looked for something to clean it off him, having to settle for the hem of my beautiful borrowed dress. Gathering it up, I wiped his face, jumping when Pierce flung his hand out behind me. Twin flairs of light burst into existence, the shadows shifting as the light fell. Turning, I saw two more wasps curled up on the floor, one moving until Pierce pushed past me and stabbed its head with his "Arkansas toothpick." Bug goo squished out, and I cringed.
I watched the ceiling as I went to pick up his light. "Do you think there are more?"
Pierce came close. His eyes held concern as he looked me over, using his thumb to wipe a stray bit of goo off my cheekbone. "I've heard that wasp larvae were raised as sentries," he said, "but I never thought I'd see it up close and personal like. I suggest we move deeper."
"Yeah, but do you think there are more?" I insisted.
Pierce said nothing as he put a hand on my shoulder and guided me past the fallen insects. He wasn't worried, but I kept looking over my shoulder as we went down the gentle incline. The glow from the walls grew brighter, and I wasn't surprised when the confines of the hall opened up to a large open space the size of say, the sanctuary at the basilica.
"Well if that doesn't cap the climax," Pierce breathed, and I held his light high when it doubled in intensity. Even then, the glow barely touched the distant walls. It looked like we were half underground, half in the stump, with black stones the size of my hand embedded in the earth to hold it back. At the center of the room was the glow of a banked fire. Under our bare feet was the feeling of plastic, and I looked to find it was poker chips, arranged in a pleasant pattern of colors. "Jenks?" I whispered, hearing only my voice echo back.
"I'll tend the fire. See if you can find a door," Pierce said, and I gingerly headed toward the wall, Pierce's light held high. Slowly the light from the fire grew as Pierce built it up using wood from a rabbit Pez dispenser.
Evidence of tasks dropped and left undone were everywhere - life interrupted. Bits and pieces of stuff belonging to both Ivy and me were among the organized clutter, surprising me at first, then irritating me. In one corner was a small calculator I thought I had lost, the slate and chalk arrangement beside it making me think it was an impromptu schoolroom. The ticking was the watch I'd misplaced last year, the band being used for who knew what since it was being held up now with a bit of lace I recognized as being from Ivy's black panties. Not that I paid attention to that sort of thing, but I did fold clothes occasionally.
Closer to the fire, the poker-chip floor was covered with a soft gray fur. Mouse, I decided by its softness under my bare feet. A barrette that I'd lost behind my dresser and never bothered to retrieve was being used to hold a magnetic calendar with WERE INSURANCE on it. Postage stamps decorated the walls at odd heights. Some of them had frames built of garden materials. Pictures, I decided, seeing that most of them were of outside shots.
I paused when I got to a huge glittering figure eight on the wall. Reaching up, I touched the bottom loop to decide it was made of fish scales. Maybe they were from the wishing fish Jenks and his family had accidentally eaten. It looked important, stretching up almost four times as tall as I stood. As I watched, a dot of sun shining down from a hidden upper window slowly slid onto the scales to make them glitter brilliantly.
"Noon," Pierce said from the fire pit, and I looked to my borrowed watch, seeing it said 12:35, not noon. But then I realized that it wasn't our noon, but the real noon of when the sun reached its apex. The figure eight was a clock to show seasons, not hours. It was something a pixy would have to be very sure of so as not to get caught unaware by the cold. "Cool," I said breathlessly, following the shaft of light up to a small patch of sunshine high above our heads.
"Do you see a door?" Pierce asked, satisfied with the state of the fire and joining me.
"I think they're all up there," I said, pointing to shafts opening up about two pixy lengths over my head. Pierce sighed, and I looked around for something to stand on. There was an arrangement of cushions and chairs in a lowered pit, which was no help. But between it and the now-cheerful fire was a long table made of popsicle sticks, stained red and dovetailed together to make it longer. Maybe we could prop it up against the wall, like a ramp.
I was just about to suggest it when a scuffing from the ceiling jerked our attention upward. Wasps? I thought in fear.
"Jenks?" Pierce called out, and I tensed when a harsh clatter of wings came and went.
"Who's here? Jax, is that you?" said a slurred voice from the high patch of sun. " 'Bout time you showed up. I gotta tell you about the water rights with the clan next t-t-to ours."
"It's me, Jenks!" I called out, thinking it was one of the dumbest things I'd said in a while, but I was so relieved to know he was alive I didn't care.
"Rache?" The shadow between us and the light staggered, then fell backward. There was a crash followed by a weak "Ow."
I looked at Pierce, then the upper patch of light. "There's a room up there," I said. Another brilliant observation. "How are we going to get up there?"
"Stairs," Pierce said, pointing, and I realized that there was indeed a thin excuse for a stair, without so much as a hint of a banister, snaking upward in a wide spiral running along the outside wall of the main room.
"Who, by Tink's little red thong, put the floor up here?" drifted down.
Oh God. He was drunk. I gathered up my skirts and dropped Pierce's light into them, anxious about what I might find. The higher I went, the brighter it got. The air, too, felt different. Moister. I wondered why there were stairs at all, seeing that pixies could fly.
Finally I reached the top, blinking in the strong sun. Jenks was flat on his back beside a fallen wire-and-cushion chair. Dropping my skirts and Pierce's light, I went to him.
Pierce came up behind me in a soft padding of bare feet. "I swan, this is the most beautiful room I've ever seen," he said as I knelt beside Jenks.
The bottoms of six glass pop bottles were wedged into the earth wall to let the sun in, but the ceiling was actually the stump. The long, curving room was moist, and the soothing sound of water dripping came from somewhere. Moss grew on the floor with tiny white flowers growing from it. Even the benches under the windows were covered in green, making soft hummocks. A small table made from a big button and plastic-coated paper clips stood before an empty fireplace that looked like the bottom of a throat-lozenge box. The chairs were of wire and cushions, and I recognized them as looking almost exactly like the tables and chairs from the island resort at Mackinac Island. The top of a saltshaker was in a corner half full of dirt, and infant seedlings grew close to the windows. Manicured grass rose tall at the back to hide the wall.
No wonder Jenks is here, I thought as I pulled on his arm to get him up. Matalina's grace was everywhere.
Jenks finally focused on me as I got him upright, his wings bent behind him as he sat on the floor. Not a glimmer of glitter was on him anywhere, and he was still stained from the battle. "The Turn take it, Rache," he said, pushing my hands off him as he sat propped against a hummock. His wing was caught under him, and he shifted a tall vial of honey to his other hand to reach back to free it with a tug. "Can't you just let me die in peace? Matalina died in peace."
Pierce sighed. "He's corned!" the witch said, and I looked at him, annoyed.
"Of course he's drunk," I said sharply, trying to get the vial of honey away from Jenks. "He just lost his wife." Oh God. Matalina was really gone, and my heart ached for Jenks.