Ever After (Rachel Morgan)

he said proudly. “Usually a gargoyle is taught by only one other gargoyle, but the lines aren’t acting right, so they’re taking turns by singing me only their line, the one they know by heart.”
    “D-demons?” I stammered. “You’ve been talking to demon-bound gargoyles?”
    He nodded, almost going invisible as he flushed a deep black to make his red eyes stand out. “They’re trying to teach me all the lines so that I can teach them to you. I only know a few, since most won’t leave the ever-after and their demons. They want me to come to them.”
    He dropped his eyes, scared of the idea, and I frowned. “The lines aren’t acting right,” he said, clawed feet shifting as he looked at the line. “Demons aren’t jumping on their own at all. Everyone needs their gargoyle, like they’re brand-new to line jumping.”
    Remembering my jump from the mall to Newt’s kitchen, I nodded. “They’re teaching you line jumping,” I said, and he grinned, a glint of light showing on his thick black teeth.
    “Yup.”
    I looked at the line, then him. “So you know what some of the lines sound like?
    He nodded, making a face. “I know what they’re supposed to sound like. They’re off.”
    “Because their imbalances are here in my line . . .” Fingers tapping the cold stone, I thought that over. “Bis, if you know what they’re supposed to sound like and you can hear what they sound like now, then maybe I can find what’s missing in my line here and shift it back. It’s the misplaced imbalance that’s causing the trouble.”
    Bis’s eyes blinked slowly. “Maybe that’s what they were talking about,” he said, his heavy brow furrowing. “Pigeon poop, Rachel. Talking to those old gars is like talking to crazy old men. They never come out and tell you what they mean. Everything is spoons and two-legged chairs. What does a spoon have to do with a ley line? I don’t know! Do you?”
    Clearly he was frustrated. I could sympathize, having listened to enough wise-old-man crap to fill a wheelbarrow. “No,” I admitted, “but if we can separate even one imbalance and put it back, it might make a big difference in the leak. Buy us some more time.”
    “Or Ku’Sox might show up,” Bis said.
    True. I exhaled heavily and turned in a slow circle, looking into the dark for the silver tracing of pixy dust. Jenks should have been back by now; Trent was slowing him down.
    “Sounds kind of hard,” Bis said, the tip of his tail twitching.
    I turned to follow his gaze to the ugly, shrill line, slumping as my first excitement died. “I know,” I said dejectedly. “I have no idea how to separate the imbalances.”
    Bis moved his wings, the hush of leather against leather making me shiver. “Why does it have to be hard?”
    Bis’s head turned. A second later, Jenks’s wings’ clatter became obvious. “It always is,” Jenks said as he hovered before us, dusting heavily and clearly having heard Bis’s last statement. Behind him, a black shadow strode out from the surrounding woods. It had to be Trent, or Jenks would be having issues. Besides, no one else I knew moved with that kind of grace.
    “Well?” I asked Jenks, trying not to look at Trent as he rejoined us. Pierce’s warning was still ringing in me. I was not in love with Trent, and never would be—especially with Ellasbeth back in the picture and Trent on a mission to save the elves. True, we worked marginally well together. His unexpected surprises were annoying, but they did generally work out. And yes, he looked more than a little attractive in his sturdy black jeans, tucked-in stretchy shirt, and lightweight rain jacket. His fair hair was covered with a black cap to keep off the damp, and the black gloves were probably just for effect because I knew he wasn’t cold. But to entertain anything more than a casual work relationship was laughable.
    Seeing Jenks hovering over his shoulder, I was struck by how they managed to look as if they went together though they were nothing alike. “There isn’t much here for pixies unless there’s a tour coming through,” Jenks said, his face glowing from the dust. “They remember you being here yesterday, and a bunch of demons before that, but not one on his own like Ku’Sox. We did a quick survey, and we’re good for at least a quarter mile unless you count the raccoons.”
    I squinted at the line. “Okay. I’m going to take a look-see—”
    “You’re not getting in that line!” Jenks