Ever After (Rachel Morgan)

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