Chapter Fourteen
The teakettle was whistling. It had been for some time. Angry, I shoved my chair back from the table, leaving the demon spell book open as I went to the cupboard. Muttering under my breath, I grabbed the first cup I touched, only to realize it had blue butterflies on it.
"Who in hell bought a mug with blue butterflies on it!" I shouted, slamming it on the counter beside the stove. "We are serious people doing serious things! I don't have time for butterflies!"
Chamomile. That's supposed to be soothing, right? I thought as I ripped the individual package open and dropped it into the cup. I didn't drink tea often, but it was getting late and I was going to have a hard enough time getting to sleep as it was. Gone. Bis was with that monster, and I was more than livid; I was panicked.
Unthinking, I reached for the teakettle, jerking my hand away and shaking it as the steam hit my fingertips, burned from trying to break Ku'Sox's circle. "Damn it!" I exclaimed, slamming drawers until I found the potholder and, more carefully this time, filled my cup. Bits of herbs floated up, and the fragrant steam bathed my face. Crap on toast, the bag was broken.
My shoulders slumped, and I stopped. From the hallway came the tiny whispers of the pixies-fresh from their midnight nap-watching my tantrum. Sniffing, I pushed my hair out of my face and tried not to cry into my tea as I imagined Bis trapped with Ku'Sox. The little guy was my responsibility. He was probably terrified.
Staring at my stocking feet with one hand over my middle and the other holding my forehead, I forced myself to breathe. Then I put my arms down, exhaling slowly. I could panic later. Right now, I had to concentrate. The sun would be up in a few hours, and if I didn't have a plan by then, I'd never get any sleep.
My hands shook as they encircled the mug. The ceramic was hot on my burned skin, and I changed my grip as I carried it back to the big farm table. I had to shove my spell and curse books to the side, and they threatened to spill off. There was nothing in them. I was coming up empty.
Depressed, I set the tea down with a soft thud. Elbows on an open book, I stared at the yellowed pages. The plop of a tear on the faded print surprised me, and I wiped it away, sitting up and away from it.
Bis was gone. Lucy was gone. Ceri was gone. Quen was with us again but unable to do magic. I had until Friday midnight to fix the line and prove to the demons that I could keep Ku'Sox from killing them. I knew how to fix the line, but I couldn't do it without Bis. If I told the demons what Ku'Sox was doing, Ku'Sox would turn everything around onto me. I didn't have any demon-magic-invoking babies for them to escape the dying ever-after with. They wouldn't help me. The truth didn't matter. It was all about perception.
I jerked, my head nearly exploding as, in shrill shrieks, six pixies skated in from the hall on my slipper. Scoot-the-shoe could usually make me laugh as five or six pixies jammed into my slipper; their screaming like they were on a roller coaster and being chased by an orange cat was hilarious. But tonight . . .
"Jenks!" I shouted, my frustration finding a convenient outlet.
Jenks darted in, his voice hushed as he corralled his kids, almost unheard as his kids complained, fussed, and finally left, flying my slipper out three feet above the floor. "Sorry, Rache. They'll leave you alone."
I looked up. He was hovering miserably in the dark threshold, a faintly glowing yellow dust slipping from him. Immediately a layer of guilt slathered itself over my already bad mood, making me even more depressed. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my hand gesturing uselessly as it sat on the table. "Your kids are okay." God help me, I'd only made things worse.
He drifted up and down, looking as helpless as I felt. "We'll get him back," he finally said, then darted out when someone yelled at her brother to leave her alone.
I turned to the book, not seeing the print. Flipping a page, I felt the tingle of black magic stab my burned fingers. Hissing, I curled my hand into a fist and shoved the book away. I flopped back angrily into the chair, almost knocking myself backward. I knew how to fix the line, but not without Bis. I could get Bis back, but only if I fixed the line.
Jenks and Belle were in the hall, Belle's lisping whispers obvious but not clear enough to decipher. Depressed, I slumped. I was ruining everyone's day. Yay, me. I was still staring at the faded demon print when Jenks edged into the kitchen, looking as meek as a flying man capable of lobotomizing fairies in his sleep could. "Ah, how you doing, Rache?"
My teeth were clenched, and I forced them apart. "Fine." F'ed IN the Extreme, as Ivy would say. I should have called her yesterday, not three hours ago. She was on her way back, but it would take a bit.
Jenks hesitated, then dropped down beside me, wings flat against his back. "It's going to be okay," he said. I knew he meant to be encouraging, but it grated like fish scales.
I stared at the wall, my throat closing. Jenks's kids were soulfully watching from the hallway, sitting on the lintel with their dust like tinsel.
"I'm not Ivy, but I bet we can come up with something," he said.
I managed to dredge up a smile from somewhere. "I don't know where to start," I said as I closed the book. The binding cracked, and I didn't care.
"When was the last time you ate?"
I listlessly picked at the binding, then quit when I realized it was probably someone's skin. "I don't know. Last year, maybe?"
He chuckled, but it sounded forced. "I'll call for takeout. What sounds good?"
I knew he was trying to be helpful. It bothered him that he couldn't do anything for me or for Bis, and that the two worlds were about to collide in a big, kind of permanent way. I simply couldn't find the strength to meet his hesitant smile with my own.
"I'm not hungry," I said, and his dust faltered as his smile faded. I couldn't eat knowing that Bis was scared. My failings had put him there. Trent must be frantic about Lucy and Ceri. I didn't know how he had managed it, remaining calm when he drove me back home.
Silent, Jenks sat on the book, wings unmoving. My chamomile tea grew cold beside me. "I know it hurts," Jenks said, but I couldn't look up. "Remember when you told me I'd find a way to live without Matalina?"
My head jerked up. "Bis isn't dead."
"Bad example," he admitted. "But I didn't believe you, and I should have. It would have made those first few weeks easier. Rache, we will get him back. Believe it."
But I didn't know how, and my helplessness welled up.
"Oh, thank God!" Jenks exclaimed suddenly, rising up on a column of gold dust and darting into the dark hallway. I wiped the back of my hand under my eye, then sagged again when I heard the bong of the church's front bell. The pixies clustered on the lintel peeled off one by one to follow Jenks to the front with the enthusiasm they reserved for elves.
"Swell," I whispered as I looked down at my socks, jeans, and black tee I'd changed into after crying in the shower. Turning in my chair, I eyed the clock over the stove. It was after four in the morning-just about my bedtime, but an elf would be bright-eyed and fresh. I had nothing for Trent or Quen. Nothing at all.
My heart seemed to quiver as I recognized the soft scuffing of Trent's shoes. I sat up and tried not to look so bedraggled as pixy excitement grew and Trent strode in, looking calm and focused in his long overcoat spotted with rain. He carried a take-out bag from a doughnut shop and a large paper bag with handles in one hand, a small briefcase in the other. Jenks was on his shoulder, looking as right as snow on a mountain. Trent had lost Ceri and Lucy and was keeping it together. If he could do it, I could do it.
"Rachel," he said, wincing at the noise the pixies were putting out. "I can't stay, but I had to come into the city to take care of some legal business and I wanted to drop these off and discuss something with you. I hope you don't mind me stopping in unexpectedly."
"No, that's fine," I said, glancing at where the coffeepot had been, wanting to offer him something. I still hadn't gotten a new one. Stuff kept interfering. My chest hurt, and I looked at the top of the fridge where Bis usually sat.
Jenks gave me a look to pull it together, then lifted from Trent's shoulder. "Let me get my kids out of here." His voice rose. "Hey! How many times have I told you to leave the shoelaces alone!"
Head going down, Trent shifted his feet and three pixies flowed out the door at ankle height, giggling and laughing. Jenks was tight on their dust, and the noise level dropped.
His relief obvious, Trent came farther in and set his briefcase down before placing the bag of doughnuts on the center counter and the paper sack on the table with a heavy thump. He was silent, utterly still, and I looked up. "Are you doing okay?"
I closed the demon textbook and shoved it to the center of the table. "No."
Trent dropped his rain-spotted hat on the table and began to unpack the leather-bound books of odd sizes from the paper sack. "It was a hard night."
I couldn't stop my sarcastic laughter. His daughter had been dangled before him and he had been given a horrible choice. A minor entrusted to my care had been abducted. Bis was only fifty years old. He shouldn't have even been there. The tears welled, and I held my breath, not wanting to cry in front of him again. "Look at me," I said as I dabbed at my eyes, trying to make light of it. "I'm such a baby. I can't stop crying."
"It's okay," he said as he stood by the table and carefully folded the paper sack.
"No, it's not," I protested, and Trent walked over to me and placed his hand on my shoulder. His shoes were untied, and I looked up, startled when he crouched to put our eyes at the same level. His eyes were dark with a shared pain. "I meant it's okay to cry," he said, and I remembered to breathe. "You're wound so tight right now, you need a healthy release."