“Rache, it’s mystics,” Jenks whispered, his voice holding fear.

But even as they sparked in my hair and made my aura flare, I knew they weren’t interested in me. There was no buzzing in my head or whispered thoughts-not-mine. They were just there, latent energy called together for a task.

Chin trembling, I gently tossed the power-imbued dirt over Nash’s silk-wrapped body. “Ta na shay, sa’ome,” I whispered, gut clenching as the spell spilled from me, the earth flaring brilliantly as it arced down to him, pulling magic and mystics from me in a shivering wave.

The charm settled over Nash like a haze, brightening to make me squint and the watching pixies cry out in alarm. When I could see again, Nash was gone.

“Holy pixy piss. They took him!” Jenks swore.

David shot him a dark look at his vulgar language, but I could tell the Were was surprised, too.

I licked my lips, my hands still humming with the last of the spell. The grass where Nash had lain was alive with flowers, and the pixies dropped to flit above the new little bronze blossoms. The scent of green rose to drive the stink of lily and fear from me, and I breathed deep, feeling refreshed. I didn’t recognize the flowers with their bloodred stamens. Maybe Hodin knew what they were.

David bent to pick one, his head bowed to hide his grief as he breathed it in. Hodin’s dark eyes, too, were lost in memory. I dusted my hands free of the last of the glowing earth, wondering how many times he had stood at the outskirts, silently mouthing the words and watching those he cared for put to rest. For though elves lived long lives, demons could live forever, and despite their lingering hatred for the elves, there was a path to peace. They just had to remember it. Or perhaps . . . find the courage to act on it.

The pixies darted away, drifts of their new song trailing behind them like audible solace. Somewhere, my anger had turned to ash, but my resolve that Constance wouldn’t be allowed to ride roughshod over Cincinnati remained—stronger now that the hate had been extinguished. “Thank you, Hodin,” I said, feeling tired and spent.

Hodin looked up, visibly quashing an old panic. His attention flicked to David, then settled on me. “You did it, not me,” he said gruffly. Tugging his spelling robe free of the clinging winter-dead weeds, he stood unmoving, his shoulders slumped in a memory.

I refolded the paper and tucked it in my jeans pocket. “You gave me the knowledge,” I said. “Thank you.”

Hodin grimaced, his solemn mood broken. “I’m surprised I remembered the words.” Head high, he strode forward, and Jenks made a wing chirp of shock when the demon walked right over where Nash had lain. “Here.” Hodin bent down and came up with a flower. “You wear it to show you’re in mourning.”

“Oh, ah, okay.” I felt funny as Hodin tucked the tiny flower in my hair. “Hey, uh, I’m sorry for what I said to you. Earlier? That rant of mine was totally out of line.”

Hodin froze, then dropped back, his ringed hands clasped and hiding in his sleeves.

“I was angry at myself,” I added before he could speak, my face warming. “And Al, maybe. And I took it out on you. No one knows how to do everything, except maybe Newt, and it drove her crazy.” I tried to smile, but I was sure it looked sick. “You aren’t useless. You know things that no one else does, stuff that would otherwise be lost. I had no right to say what I did, and I wish I could take it back.”

The demon’s expression became cold. “Because you want something from me.”

“No, because I was wrong,” I said, and Jenks, standing on David’s hand to look at his flower, snickered.

Hodin turned to go. Desperate for him to understand, I took a breath and lurched after him, grabbing his arm and taking his hand. Hodin stopped stock-still, shocked as our energy balances shifted and equalized. “I said I was wrong,” I said, my tone taking on a hint of anger as he pulled his hand away. “You have amazing skills and knowledge, but even if you didn’t, I’d stand beside you, whether Bis is returned to me or not.”

He stared at me, not seeming to know what to do. There was pain in him, though, and I bent to pick a flower. Not knowing why, I extended it to Hodin.

Blinking in surprise, he almost smiled. “I’m not sorrowing for the dead,” he said as he took it from me. “They are gifts from the deceased, given by those who care for the bereaved. Something to show they’re not alone.” He leaned close again, and the scent of burnt amber reached me as he settled the second flower beside the first.

“Oh.” Flustered, I felt myself warm. “Thanks.”

Hodin cocked his head, an unknown emotion flitting behind his eyes.

“Here, Rache.” Jenks hummed close, a flower as large as his head in his grip. “I want you to be happy, too,” he said, gruff and embarrassed as he darted up and wedged the flower next to Hodin’s two.

“And me,” David said, and Hodin dropped back when the smaller Were came forward, smelling of earth and growing things as his nimble fingers tucked a fourth flower beside the rest.

“Thanks, guys.” Flustered at the attention, I looked at the ground where Nash had lain, and blinked. I will not cry. I will not cry.

But it was hard when David pulled me into a solid, warm hug. The scent of lily was finally slipping from me, masked by the complex scent of Were and pixy dust, and I felt loved. Brow furrowed, I gave David a tight squeeze and rocked back. Sure enough, Hodin had distanced himself, but he hadn’t left, and I hoped he wouldn’t before I could talk to him again. He had come. Al had not. Sometimes, it was that simple.

“You are a good person,” David said, recapturing my attention. “Don’t let Nash’s choice turn you from that.”

“I . . . How can I not let this change me?” I said, gesturing at the carpet of flowers as all the ugly returned. But this time I knew I wasn’t alone and I could handle it.

David touched my hair as he stepped back, his smile faint but real. “We all change. But that doesn’t mean you have to lose what makes you, you.” His eyes flicked to Hodin. “I’ll be inside.” Giving my shoulder a squeeze, he turned and walked away. “Jenks!” he shouted, and the pixy hovered, his dust a conflicted silver and red.

I leaned against a tombstone and Jenks landed beside me, wings snapping. Together we looked at the graveyard and witches’ garden as David made his way to the back door, trailing the new pixy clan.

“Hey, ah, I’m letting Baribas and his kin stay if they can work around the fairies,” Jenks said, though that was clearly not what was on his mind. “Same thing with the fairies.”

I glanced sideways at Hodin. The demon had gone to sit on a nearby fallen tombstone, his eyes closed, basking with his metal rings and demon bling glinting in the sun. Little trills of pixy song rose up like life-giving rain in reverse. Maybe he wanted to talk to me. “That’s great, Jenks,” I said. “I know how hard that is for you, but if you didn’t, they probably wouldn’t survive. Any of them.”