Ever After (Rachel Morgan)

simply cannot go to Dali with your scary bedtime story of killer demon babies.”
    Jenks’s wings clattered in disgust. I, too, wasn’t happy, my foot starting to bob.
    “Ku’Sox hasn’t done anything against the law. That is, our law,” Al said, one hand holding his sandwich, the other his coffee. “Especially if these children are potentially demons. It’s the first time he’s ever shown a hint of an interest in seeing our species regain its health and should be applauded. As for Nick? He’s just a human. Mostly harmless.”
    Outraged, I stood. “Al, you are underestimating the danger here. Yes, Nick is just a human, but he’s not afraid to do things that might kill him if he thinks the risk is good. You can’t fight something like that. Will you just listen to me? How come no one listens to me! Is it the dress?” I snapped, my anger misplaced but real. “Maybe the curves? If I shaved my head and dressed like Newt, would you take me seriously then?”
    The demon’s chewing paused as he sent his eyes over my shape, silent as he took a sip of coffee. “Now, now, no need to go to extremes,” he said softly. “Where is the proof that he’s planning mischief, itchy witch?”
    My shoulders slumped. If he was calling me itchy witch, he believed me, believed the danger, and that was all I wanted. “I talked to him. He as much as admitted so.”
    Red goat-slitted eyes showing over his glasses, Al made a bland face. “You talked to Ku’Sox?”
    I blinked. “God, no. Nick.”
    “Ahh.” Clearly relieved, he took a bite of sandwich. “Then you have nothing,” he mumbled around his full mouth.
    Frustrated, I slumped back into my chair, my elbow just missing my scrying mirror. Jenks’s dust sifting down seemed to fall through the glass, but I was too frustrated to care.
    “Oh, very well,” Al grumped with bad grace. “I suppose you’ll be bad-tempered until I talk to Dali. I’ll do it in the morning—he’s crankier than you if he doesn’t get his beauty sleep.”
    My head came up, and I smiled, glad I had him to go to. Then I wondered how I’d gotten to the point where going to a demon was a good thing. “Thanks,” I said, meaning it.
    Al stood, coffee in one hand, half-eaten sandwich in the other. “Indeed,” he said, then vanished in a wash of ever-after. His cane in the corner went with him, and then my eyes darted to the counter when the coffeepot popped out.
    “Hey!” I shouted, but it was too late. My fingers drummed once in discontent, but I could sympathize. You couldn’t get a cup of decent coffee in the ever-after for any amount of money. I’d pick the coffeepot up Wednesday, but experience told me that a rank burnt-amber smell would taint the coffee for weeks.
    “What an ass,” Jenks scoffed. “He took our coffeemaker!”
    Shrugging, I went to open the window. “I’ll get a new one tomorrow on the way out to Trent’s.” The slider moved up with its accustomed ease, and I stood a moment, listening to the pixies playing in the night as the stink of demons filtered out. My thoughts went to Nick, and my heart hardened. He had lied to me, misled me, and betrayed me time and again. I’d warned him, and I wouldn’t feel guilty for whatever happened.
    “You going to call Ivy?” Jenks asked, and I turned, my arms around my middle as I looked at her empty chair and her shut-down computer. Anything left open was going to smell like ever-after, and I bent to get the trash can out from under the sink. My first impulse was yes, seeing as she would like a piece of Nick’s ass in a glass as much as me, but she’d tell Glenn, and Glenn didn’t work for the FIB anymore. He had retired after finding out that HAPA had infiltrated the FIB, refusing to work for a company he couldn’t trust implicitly and moving to Flagstaff with Daryl in the hopes that the higher elevation and cleaner air would help the nymph. Calling Ivy would only get them all in a turmoil.
    Pinning the trash bin against the center counter, I ran my arm over the counter, throwing away the food that was open. “No,” I said, and I met Jenks’s eyes when he clattered his wings in disapproval. “It’s the first time she’s ever done anything healthy in her relationships,” I said, not sure it was the right thing to do. “I’m not going to screw it up. She’ll be back in a week.”
    Jenks’s dust shifted from an uneasy green to a more neutral silver. “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he said as he flew to