Ever After (Rachel Morgan)

darted into my room with the same message, all of them chattering loud enough to give me a headache. “Ivy!” I shouted before she could move. “I’ll get it. You watch Nick.”
    I touched the rings in my pocket for reassurance as I shooed everyone out of my room and shut the door behind me. Pace fast, I headed for the sanctuary. Ivy was where I’d left her on the couch, stretched out and dangerously languorous, and I gave Nick a disparaging glance as I passed. “Don’t let him move, whatever happens, okay?” I asked Jenks, and he left my shoulder to stand on the coffee table beside Jax. The smaller, tattered pixy shied at the soft clatter of his dad landing, and I hoped that the two of them would start to talk again.
    Stomach churning, I went to the door, promising myself that if I lived through this, I was finally going to get a light in the foyer.
    “It’s Quen!” one of Jenks’s kids said in excitement as I undid the bolt to the front door and peeked out into the lamp-lit dark.
    Relief filled me as I pushed the heavy oak door open wider in invitation. Quen was getting out of the black beamer parked at the curb, and my face warmed as I remembered him charging me with Trent’s safety. And here I was the one asking him to help me. At midnight. On a weekday. To save the world a day ahead of schedule.
    His hair slicked back, Quen was wearing all black again and soft-soled shoes. My eyes fell as I remembered the first time I had seen him. He’d looked like a gardener. Perhaps that was what he’d truly like to be.
    “How are the girls?” I asked, and he brought his gaze back from where he’d been saying a soft hello to the pixy bucks braving the cold to escort him in. The light on the sign over the door made creases in his face. Or maybe it was the burden of his life balancing on a fine point. It was going to fall one way or the other.
    “Doing well,” he said, looking taller than usual because I was in my stocking feet. “Ellasbeth is getting to know them.” A frown crossed his features. “They’re locked in the closet until I get back. Did you have fun raiding the museum today?”
    Smiling, I took his sun-weathered hand in mine as he extended it, pulling him into a hug instead. My eyes teared up as I remembered Ceri. The scent of cinnamon and warm wine filled my senses, and Quen took a quick breath to catch his grief. Anger at Nick flared, and I shoved it away. “I appreciate your help,” I said, thinking that he smelled different from Trent, dark and warm, not green and warm. I wondered if it was a mark of more maturity or just an individual trait. “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s just us. No demon assist.”
    His lip twitched, and Quen pushed me into the church, his hands heavy on my shoulders. “I’d rather it be that way. The girls will not be safe until this is settled.”
    From just inside, a pixy girl chanted “Come in! Come in!,” and I stepped aside. He slipped past me, and I leaned into the night, looking for any pixy dust before I shut the door.
    The latch clicked shut, and I turned toward the warmth and light. I gasped as someone pulled on the line out back, the draw so heavy that my knees almost buckled. Wide-eyed, I watched Ivy spring from the couch. “Quen, no!” she shouted, the dust from Jenks’s startled kids sifting down to make her glow.
    Heart pounding, I lurched into the sanctuary. Nick was sitting in his chair, hands bound before him, glaring at Quen. Ivy was between them, her face pale as Quen stood ready to fling a black ball of energy at Nick. His expression was terrifying with hatred. He knew Nick was to blame for Ceri’s death—and I had let him walk in unawares. Shit. Could I be more clueless?
    “Quen,” I said softly, padding over to him. I reached to touch his arm, and he jerked from me, the curse sparking the air between us.
    “Why is this filth alive?” he said, cords showing in his neck.
    I put my hand on his arm again, gently tugging. “The gargoyles found him in the garden. He’s my present to Al when this is over. You want to sign the card?”
    “Tink’s titties, I do,” Jenks said, his dust a bright silver as he hovered beside me. Ivy was holding her breath. If Quen began throwing curses, Ku’Sox might drop into Nick just to see what was up.
    “Quen . . .” I fidgeted nervously. “Al is not at all happy about what happened to Ceri.” I couldn’t say dead. This was as close as I could get without crying. “Until this