I’m a pixy, Rachel. I may look all tough and stuff, but I got wings, and I know infatuation when I see it.
We all watched Al open the door. Turning, he waved to us, then passed the threshold. The door shut behind him. I waited for something to happen. Nothing did. “This isn’t good,” Quen said. I choked back my burst of laughter, knowing it would come out sounding hysterical.
Minias smiled. Great. Another charming demon. I sort of prefer the insane ones.
Married pixy, I told myself, forcing my eyes back to the shelf of ceramic animals. Fifty-four kids. Beautiful wife, sweet as sugar, who would kill me in my sleep while apologizing for it.
A demon was asking me what I wanted. My eyes flicked to Al, and he shrugged. “What do you want?” he said softly.
Somehow I found him. Somehow I found Al’s sarcastic thoughts, bitter and old. Tired, angry, bored. Alone.
All I’d have to do then was roll with the consequences of inviting dewinged, fanged fairies into Trent’s backyard. God, they were savage looking. Served him right.
Relief spilled into me. He wanted to live. He just didn’t know how.
Jenks kept me alive for two years through two death threats, a crazy banshee, and at least two serial killers. Its about time I return the favor! And if I can’t, then I can sit by his bed and hold his hand as he dies, ’cause I’ve had plenty of practice doing that, too!
Her tiny hand gripped mine with a surprising warmth, and in a shocking wash of emotion, I felt everything I knew shift. The scent of cinnamon and baby powder hit me, and as my eyes widened, my heart melted, making room for her.
A devious spark lit through Al, making me smile. One way. It costs too much, he said. “There’s no inflation in the ever-after, Al.” Call it a recession then. One way.
I pushed him away, catching Lee’s awe that I was not only standing with a demon outside a circle, but that Al was treating me like an equal. Or maybe a favorite pet, I amended as Al caught me when I started to tilt.
Maybe I could be friends with a ghost. I wouldn’t be able to kill him.
I’d given up on the white picket fence after Kisten had died – finding out my kids would be demons was the nail in the coffin.
Ford put a hand to his head. “Back up. Back up!” he cried. “You’re too close.” Heart pounding, I looked at the eight feet between us and pressed into the fridge. “I think he meant for the ghost to back up,” Jenks said dryly.
Looking at everything, I started to feel nauseous, as if the seventies had taken refuge here against extinction and were preparing to take over the world.
I turned back to the mirror, seeing that there were no lines on it. It was empty. “What happened to my mirror?” I said, bewildered. Then realizing that I was looking at the back of the dumb thing, I swore and turned it over.
I sat for a moment, figuring things out, then decided to stay there. If I was on the floor, I couldn’t fall down.
I just want my name back so my life can go back to chaotic and weird instead of chaotic and desperate.
Confused, I asked, “The coven’s what?” “Plumber,” Ivy said, looking pale as she leaned on Glenn. “You know. Stops leaks?” Oh goodie. I’m a leak.
Nick as in my former boyfriend Nick. Ex-rat, ex-boyfriend, ex-alive if I ever got hold of him Nick.