Where Demons Dare. Kim Harrison

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       Eight

      I cut a sharp left into the carport, taking it fast because of my lingering anger at Trent. Habit alone kept the paint unscratched. I loved my car, and though I was jamming the gearshift like an Indy 500 driver, I wasn’t going to do anything to hurt my mobile icon of independence. Especially after finally getting my license back and the dent I didn’t remember putting in the car repaired. Fortunately the church was in a quiet residential area, and only the sixty-year-old oaks lining the street saw my ugly temper.

      I hit the brakes sharply, and my head swung forward and back. A perverse sense of satisfaction filled me. The grille was four inches from the wall. Perfect.

      Grabbing my bag from the backseat, I got out and slammed the door. It was edging two. Ceri was probably still asleep, seeing as elves kept the same sleeping habits as pixies when they could, but I had to talk to her.

      I heard the dry clatter of pixy wings when my feet hit the walk, and I swung my hair out of the way for whomever it was. My money was on Jenks; it was his habit to stay awake with the few kids on sentry duty, sleeping odd hours when everyone else was up.

      “Rache,” Jenks said in greeting, his swooping dart to land on my shoulder shifting at the last moment when he saw my sour expression. Hovering, he flew backward in front of me. I hated it when he did that. “Ivy called you, huh?” he said, his attitude one of affronted righteousness. “It’s in the eaves in the front. I can’t wake the damn thing up. You need to use a spell or something.”

      My eyebrows rose. It’s in the eaves? “What’s in the eaves?”

      “A gargoyle,” Jenks said angrily, and my alarm vanished.

      “A clumsy-ass, pimply-faced, big-footed gargoyle.”

      “Really?” I said as I stopped right there and peered up at the steeple, not seeing the gargoyle. “How long has it been here?”

      “How the hell should I know!” he shouted, and I realized that was where his anger was coming from. Someone had slipped through his lines, and he didn’t like it. Jenks saw my smile, and he put his hands on his hips as he hovered backward. “What’s so funny?”

      “Nothing.” I pushed myself into motion, making a left on the sidewalk to go to Keasley’s instead of the church. Jenks’s wings hummed when I took the unexpected direction, and he hastened to catch up. “We’ll talk to him or her tonight, okay?” I said, wanting to get Ivy’s take before we made any sweeping decisions. “If it’s young, it’s probably just looking for somewhere to hang.”

      “They don’t hang, they lurk,” he muttered, wings clattering aggressively. “Something’s wrong with it, or it would be with its kin. They don’t move, Rachel, unless they did something really bad.”

      “Maybe he’s a rebel like you, Jenks,” I said, and the pixy made a tiny huffing sound.

      “Where are we going?” he asked shortly as he turned to look at the church behind us.

      Immediately my bad mood returned. “To talk to Ceri. I ran into Trent trying on costumes.”

      “What does that have to do with Ceri?” Jenks interrupted, as protective of the small but self-assured woman as I was.

      Toes edging the drop off of the curb, I pulled myself to a stop so I could watch his expression. “He got her pregnant.”

      “Pregnant!”

      The shrill shout was punctuated by a flash of dust I could see even in the strong afternoon light. “It gets better,” I said, stepping into the empty street and heading for the tired, sixty-plus-year-old house Ceri and Keasley shared. “He wants me to go into the ever-after to get a sample so their child will be born without any effects of the curse. Tried to guilt me into it.” And it almost worked.

      “Pregnant?” Jenks repeated, his angular face showing his shock. “I gotta smell her.”

      The scraping of my boots on the pavement faltered. “You can smell it when someone’s pregnant?” I said, somewhat appalled.

      Jenks shrugged. “Sometimes. I don’t know about elves.” He darted to the sidewalk, then back to me. “Can you walk a little faster? I’d like to get there before the sun sets and that thing in the eaves wakes up.”

      My gaze went three houses down to find Keasley outside enjoying the fall weather, raking leaves. Great, he’d seen me tear into here like a bunny on fire. “Jenks,” I said suddenly. “I’m going to do the talking. Not you.”

      “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, and I fixed my gaze on him with a threatening sharpness.

      “I mean it. Ceri might not have told him yet.”

      The hum of his wings dropped in pitch, though he didn’t lose a millimeter of height. “Okay,” he said hesitantly.

      My boots hit the sidewalk and the dappled pattern of sun that made it through the colored leaves still clinging to the dark branches. Keasley is Leon Bairn? I thought as I looked him over. Leon was the only other person СКАЧАТЬ