What concerned me most, though, was that my line of work wasn’t always conducive to being a good neighbor. The church was unlivable because of a misunderstanding with Cincy’s resident vamps, made worse when the elven goddess threw a tantrum in my front room. Not both at the same time, fortunately, but imagining that in downtown Hollows? The potential collateral damage was enough to give even Trent pause.

Jenks’s hopeful expression, though, ate at my resistance. Constance would be in Cincy in two weeks and our rent-free situation in Piscary’s old digs would be over. We had to live somewhere, and the church needed a new kitchen before it could get an occupation permit. Without that, no one would even consider buying it.

“Could you excuse us for a moment?” I said to Sharron, and Jenks rattled his wings in anticipation as Sharron beamed.

“I’ll be outside,” she said, heels clicking as she headed for the sidewalk where her bright yellow, big-ass, four-door Cadillac waited at the curb. “This is a good one, Rachel. You could look for a year and not find anything better in your price range. It makes me glad all those others fell through. What did I tell you? Things happen for a reason.”

David eased himself up to sit on the counter, knees wide in a classic manspread as the dusty door chime clunked and Sharron went outside. His scruff, so different from Trent’s always-smooth cheeks, held my eye. Must be a Were thing.

“Well?” Jenks prompted as the street noise cut off. His expression was hopeful, and I quashed a rising worry. Jenks would have the funds from the church to cover his side of things, but my share would take everything I’d managed to scrape together. I had to trust myself that the money for the mortgage would come, but even more important, I could trust myself.

Again I looked out the wide window. Is this the place? I wondered. I’d have a nice view of the river if I put a larger window in upstairs. Maybe the roof was better than I thought, and Jenks and I could make a potted paradise up there. “I like having off-street parking,” I said slowly, and Jenks rasped his wings in agreement.

“The building is sound,” David encouraged, reaching for his phone when it dinged for his attention. “If you like it, you should take it. You can always sell it later if you change your mind. Downtown property moves pretty fast.”

I took a breath. Held it. Exhaled. Jenks was right. It was time to let go. I needed a more professional image, and I hadn’t picked out the church in the first place. Ivy had, and the reason for having it—sanctified ground where the undead and demons couldn’t tread—was no longer an issue.

“I like it,” I said, and Jenks inked a bright silver. “We should put in an offer.”

“Great!” Jenks darted to hover by the door, waiting for one of us to open it. “I’ll tell Sharron. How much you want to start with?”

My shoulders slumped as if having decided made everything easier. Gold lettering on the door. Maybe a light over the window. Nice rug . . . “Anything less than the last place sounds good to me. Go for it, Jenks. You’ve got a good feel for our finances.”

Smiling, David slipped from the counter and went to open the door a crack.

“Good-bye, stinky pizza place, hello, downtown living. I’m a city pixy!” Jenks exclaimed, and then he was on the sidewalk, making circles around Sharron until she clapped her hands and gave me an enthusiastic smile.

David lingered by the door as I took one last look to imagine the space with me and Jenks and all our stuff. “Thanks for bringing this to our attention,” I said as I found my phone and took a picture of the old counter, then another of the big front window to show Trent. “I can’t believe how fast property is going right now. This is, like, the seventh place we’ve almost bought.”

“It’s a great building,” David said, louder since I’d gone to take a picture of the back room. “Nothing weird in the history apart from a lizard issue in the eighties. Still don’t know what that was about.” He chuckled. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask Trent to look at it.”

“Trent?” I clicked off the light and came out. “And have the owner jack up the price?”

“I suppose.”

“Besides”—I stared at the ceiling, wondering if it was higher out here than in the back—“he and the girls left today for the West Coast with Ellasbeth to visit her mom. It’s her birthday, and apparently elves make a big deal about it when it’s got a zero attached to it.” Nose wrinkling, I waved at Jenks that I’d be right there. He’d plastered himself against the window like a highway casualty. Translation: I was killing him. “I would have gone, but I’ve got an appointment with Dali tomorrow.” Annoyed, I ushered Jenks off the window, and he darted back to Sharron.

“Still, an all-expenses-paid vacation to the West Coast?” David said, and then his expression blanked. “You didn’t get banned from Seattle, too, did you?”

“No, but being surrounded by Ellasbeth’s family for a week doesn’t sound like a vacation. He’s going to be busy with the enclave elders cementing his Sa’han status. My presence would not help.”

David put an arm over my shoulders in consolation. The eon-long war between the demons and elves had crusted over, but the scab was new and they both seemed to be looking for a reason to scratch it. “I’d think having a demon on your payroll would be a positive thing,” David said as he opened the door and the sounds of the city at noon rose to soothe me.

“Sure, if I wasn’t also in his bed,” I muttered, and David laughed.

Jenks looked up from his hover over Sharron’s shoulder as she gave me a thumbs-up that could mean anything from “I’m on the phone with my mom” to “we cinched the deal.”

“I’m sure it will work out.” David’s arm fell away as he came to a rocking halt in the sun, his dark eyes scanning the street. “You’ve got a solid in with the elven dewar for saving Landon from the baku. Zack doesn’t have a problem with a demon shacking up with the prince of the elves and, come his eighteenth birthday, he’ll be the head of the dewar.”

“Trent is not the prince of the elves,” I said, my gaze dropping to my new pinky ring, glinting in the sun.

“Tink’s tampons, he isn’t,” Jenks said as he abandoned Sharron. “The guy is pure Rachel candy. Vast power and clout—”

“—on the skids,” David finished, to make Jenks laugh and bob his head, golden hair shining. “Face it, Rachel. You’re kryptonite to the high-powered elites.”

“Am not.” I fumbled to put my phone in my bag, head rising to follow the sounds of sirens two blocks over.

Jenks gave David a sidelong look before landing on his shoulder. “You bankrupted Al in three years flat,” the pixy said, raising one finger. “Did the same for Trent in, what? Six months?”