Silent, Jenks landed atop the books I’d just shelved. His hands were at his waist, and his sharply angular, young face was creased in worry as he dusted a faint blue.

“So . . .” I said slowly, not sure what he was upset about: Zack, the fairies, or the paths the Weres were making in the tall graveyard grass. “I’ve been thinking about the charms we’re going to need for tonight.”

“Rache, are you okay?” he said unexpectedly.

He saw me almost crying. Shoulders slumped, I sank back to sit on the box. “I miss Trent,” I admitted, head turning when Rex stuck a long paw under the door, reaching until he pushed it open and came in. I waited to make sure David wasn’t following, then added softly, “When he’s gone, no one touches me. I mean, I’m glad he’s doing what he needs to do, but someone to—” I stopped, forcing a smile. “Someone to hold me for just a little while and tell me that I’ve got this goes a long way.”

Jenks’s wings drooped, and I added, “But hey, I’ve got you to tell me that, right?”

He nodded, clearly not convinced, and I picked up Rex and cuddled him. I could smell David on him, and somehow that helped.

“Um . . . Rache? I’ve been thinking about the church,” Jenks said, and then my grip on Rex tightened as a tomcat growl came from the suddenly tail-twitching cat.

Jenks’s attention flicked up, and from the bell, a slow peal rolled out.

“Ow!” I exclaimed as Rex dug in his claws and pushed from me, skittering to hide behind the boxes. My ears hurt, and Jenks cowered, hands over his head. Ticked, I scanned the small space, looking for anything from a dark-haired pixy to a crow. “Hodin?” I said angrily. “I told you to stay the ever-loving hell away from me.”

Jenks straightened, and I followed his gaze to the small sound of a shoe scuffing by the stairs.

The door was still open a crack, but standing before it already within the room was a ruddy-faced, red-eyed, Victorian dandy in a crushed green velvet frock, lace at his cuffs and neck, and blue-tinted glasses perched on his angular nose.

“Al,” I breathed, relieved to see him, even if he was stiff and cold, eyeing me over his blue-tinted glasses as if I’d been smeared in troll muck, rolled in corn flour, and served on a plate as dinner.

The tall demon’s lip twitched as he looked over the small space lit by my magic. “Dali wasn’t lying,” he said, his low, almost gravelly voice seeming to fill the room and push on me from behind. “You are talking to Hodin.”

He was so angry he wasn’t yelling. That wasn’t good, and I stood. “No,” I said, and when Al raised a single eyebrow at me I added, “I mean, yes, I talked to him. He showed up and I told him to go away. But I’m not working with him.” Guilt and annoyance fought for control. “You haven’t, ah, made up with Hodin?” I said in a small voice, and he made an angry-sounding, guttural guffaw.

“Don’t lie, Rachel. You aren’t good at it. You’re obviously working with the little runt.” The lace at his cuff slipped as he reached to still the faintly resonating bell. He was wearing gloves again, and my heart hurt. “That is an elven spell.” His thin lips curled into a sneer. “I despise that charm.”

I looked at Jenks, and the pixy shrugged. “I made it. Not Hodin,” I said, not knowing if that would make it better or worse. It was, as he said, an elven spell.

“You’ve learned nothing,” Al said, his expression sour. “You will die following Hodin’s foolishness. As they all did. I’m wasting no more time with you.”

“Hey!” I exclaimed as he tugged his sleeves down, a sure sign that he was about to leave. And that “wasting no more time” comment was bull. He was angry, and this was the only way he could show it. “I said I’m not working with Hodin, and I’m not. It was a tiny elven charm, and I only did it so I’d know when Hodin showed up so I could tell him to go away. Did you not hear the first words out of my mouth when it rang?”

Jenks’s wings dusted a hopeful gold, head bobbing. Al’s brow was furrowed, but he hadn’t left, and I took a step forward, pulse fast. “You know I do elven magic. If you want to leave, fine, but don’t leave because of that.” I hesitated, then added, “I’m so glad to see you.”

His eyes narrowed to slits and a scent I couldn’t name tickled my nose, trying to make me sneeze. I’d hurt him badly by refusing to condemn Hodin as the rest of the demons had done. I’d gone on to hurt him even more by demanding they quit feuding. It was a demand I was beginning to rue making. But he was here now, and I was talking with him, and my shoulders eased when I saw Al’s clenched jaw relax.

It was a start.

“A joke spell, Rachel?” Al frowned at the window when “Magic Carpet Ride” began to echo up. “You need to do better than that.” My hands were damp, and I caught back a protest when he plucked a book off my shelf and tossed it aside, the volume hitting the floorboards in a cringeworthy thump and slide. “This is for babies. I’ll get you something suiting your abilities.”

“Thank you,” I said, feeling as if I was walking on eggshells. Thanks a hell of a lot for tattling on me, Dali. “Can you stay for dinner? I’ve got vampires grilling for me. It’s going to be epic.”

“No.” He took a book from the box, flipped through it, and put it on the shelf. “I didn’t say you could sit down,” he added when I went to do just that.

I hesitated, then made a point of settling my ass on the cardboard box, shifting to find the most comfortable spot until he grimaced. “This is my spelling lab, not yours,” I said, then took a pointedly slow sip of my pop. “Constance—”

“Is your problem,” he interrupted. Al closed the book he was looking at with a snap and set it on the shelf with a little tap. “I’m here . . . to say thank you for what you did for Dali.”

My lips parted in surprise, and Al glanced at my globe of light when it brightened.

“Do not repeat this, but Dali is the better teacher. He hasn’t taken anyone to study for too long. Instructing the boy might fill a hole in him that has been eating him alive.” Again he hesitated, inclining his head in a formal gesture. “So . . . thank you.”

My focus blurred as I remembered how Dali had stammered his way through his request for my help a few months back. Though they seemed singularly focused on domination, they all had lives I didn’t know about, a history that didn’t revolve around revenge. Dali asking to teach a child was the first I’d seen of it outside of Al. I’d do anything to fan that ember to life. They all seemed so . . . lost.

“I only hope he doesn’t do anything stupid,” I muttered, and Al harrumphed.