Page 20 of Demon's Bluff
And there was no way in two hells that Elyse was going to keep my book.
Chapter
5
The mid-November wind pushed onthe church, scattering the last of the leaves and swirling them to beat against the sanctuary’s stained-glass windows. The heat was on for the first time of the season, and I could smell the dust burning off the furnace as I sat on the couch and went through the last box of Newt’s things.
“I’m fine, woman!” Jenks barked from the lampshade, and Getty rose, a flush pinking her cheeks.
“You didn’t wear the scarf I gave you, did you!” the dark-haired pixy yelled back, her gossamer wings invisible as she hovered. “I’m not your wife, but you will, by the Turn, try out my weavings. I twisted those stitches so they would better block the wind and keep you warm with maximum mobility. I can’t keep the garden alone, and if you kill yourself by falling into a hibernation stupor, I will dump your body over the wall and leave you to the sparrows!”
“I wore your scarf,” he griped, wings a fast blur. “It worked great. I’m just trying to get warmed up, okay?”
“You wore it?”
I smiled at the pixy woman’s surprise, my head down as I pushed to the bottom of the box, fingers tingling. “Perhaps you should explain to her why you’re so cold, Jenks.”
“Because I’m not going to ride in your purse like a package of gummy trolls!” Clearly peeved, Jenks left the heat of the lamp, still trailing a faintblue dust as he darted over to me and landed on my shoulder. “Tell her the scarf is pretty, will you?” he whispered.
“You tell her,” I said, and he slumped as Getty bobbed up and down before darting out of the sanctuary, silver sparkles of indecision coloring her dust.
“Last time I told her something was pretty, she cried,” he said, and I began to rummage again. Getty was desperately in love with him, but her upbringing left her feeling as if she didn’t deserve love in return, especially from Jenks, whose heart still beat for his deceased wife. It had become just as obvious that Jenks could love her but that he wouldn’t allow himself, worried it might mean he loved Matalina less. All I knew was that the two of them had better figure it out, or it was going to be a very long, tumultuous winter.
A sudden cramp of magic jolted through me, and I jerked my hand away from a sealed black envelope before cautiously taking it up and setting it on the low slate table. This was the last box that Al had inherited from Newt when she became the elven Goddess in my stead, my last chance for finding that damned mirror. I wasn’t happy that Elyse was hiding behind definitions like a lawyer, and sure, I was furious that she had kept my book. But what really burned my toes was that Elyse had known exactly what button to push to get me to do something stupid.
Kisten.
Jenks’s wings rasped as he landed atop the edge of the box and looked down, his pixy curiosity getting the better of him. Getty was banging about in the kitchen. And seeing as she was only four inches tall and weighed less than an ounce, that took some doing. “Ah, we are going to get your book?” he asked, clearly reluctant to go into the kitchen and make everything right quite yet.
“Tonight, yes.” I carefully shook out a silken dusting cloth. It had the glyph for purity on it, and I set it aside to keep for myself.
Jenks hesitated for a moment. “So why are you mad?”
I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, and I opened a wooden box to see neatly arranged puzzle-like shapes. Snapping it shut, I set it on the tableto continue to search. “I didn’t appreciate Elyse dangling Kisten before me as if he was a carrot,” I muttered. Kisten was gone. I had mourned him and moved on.And yet…
“Yeah, that was kind of a jerk-ass move,” Jenks said. “You fell right for it.”
“Hey,” I protested, my words faltering when I felt an odd draw on the ley line out in the graveyard. A softbongcame from the steeple, and I froze, senses reaching. Someone had done something magical, and it wasn’t me.
“That was Al.” Jenks dropped into the box to look under another silk scarf. “He’s trying to reinstate that toadstool ring around the church.”
“For protection?” Curious, I stood and went to peer out of one of the stained-glass window’s lighter panes and stare at his colorful wagon parked in the graveyard. It had to be over twenty-five feet long, and would need a team of oxen to pull it. Maybe two teams. Not that it would ever move. He may as well take the wheels off and burn them for firewood. “How is it coming?”
Jenks’s wings rasped. “Slowly. Apparently mushrooms have a natural connection to the ley lines. It’s like making a circle without actually being connected to the line. Or at least that’s how he explained it to me.”
I turned, surprised not that Al had attempted to circumvent his current lack of ability to do ley line magic, but rather that he was using his limited skills to protect the church and, in turn, me. A demon who couldn’t tap a ley line was vulnerable—more than one who couldn’t jump the lines. It felt bigger than that, though.
“You told him about the coven’s threat?” I said, shoulders slumping when a burst of dust blew up and over the top of the box. “Jenks,” I complained, and he rose, wings laboring, and his arms wrapped around a knife as long as he was tall. “I feel bad enough as it is that he can’t tap a ley line because of me. This just points it out.”
“It’s winter. I’m not going to say no to a little extra protection,” he said, and I took the knife before it brought him down. “You can see your reflection in it,” he said. “Maybe it’s an Atlantean mirror.”
“It’s possible.” I set it aside to ask Al. As much as I complained aboutthe demon being this close, it did make teasing information out of him easier. I wasn’t his student, but I did learn from him. He wasn’t my protector, but he gave protection just by being in the garden—his current lack of ley line magic aside. He’d once been the demons’ premier supplier of fine familiars, which meant he had been both a slave trader and an instructor all wrapped up in one. Now he wasn’t much of anything—even as he was still rightfully feared. He was tired, as they all were, of maintaining the mystique of all-powerful. Especially when it kept him alone.
Which might be why I had made only a token protest when his RV/wagon had shown up in my garden a few weeks ago, parked right in the ley line to make a fast getaway if needed.
Jenks rose from the box at the sound of the porch door opening.I don’t think I’ll ever get used to him using the door instead of popping in via the ley lines,I thought as Getty’s voice sounded in a tart greeting and I went back to shuffling through Newt’s things.
“Hey, Al. Was that you pulling on the line?” I said as the demon’s boots scuffed to a halt at the top of the hall. “I didn’t think you could get toadstools to grow this time of year.”