Ever After. Kim Harrison

sound proud of the little man,” Al drawled, and my lips parted when, with a tug on my awareness and a cascading sheet of ever-after, the vision of a British nobleman vanished, replaced with a heart-stoppingly familiar vision of Nick.

      “Son of a Disney whore,” Jenks whispered, but I’d gone cold, seeing Nick with his thin build, shaggy mop of dark hair, and sparse stubble. Al even had the faded jeans, tatty sneakers, black T-shirt with the lumberjack-style shirt open and hanging loosely over his narrow shoulders. A chill went through me as he layered cold cuts on white bread, looking like Nick until he blew me a kiss and winked at me with his goat-slitted eyes with a confidence only Al could command.

      “That’s not funny,” I said.

      “Ahh, you do hate him.” His voice was his own, and I shivered as Al put a last slice of bread atop his pile. Seeing me turn away, he sent a second shiver of ever-after over himself and was back to his usual appearance. “Good for you, Rachel,” he said as he brought his sandwich to the table. “Hate is all that keeps us alive when love is gone. You’re almost there. Not quite ready to let it go yet.” Sitting, he took a large bite. “God slay me, this is good.”

      Shaken from the reminder of Nick, I crossed my knees. “So you believe we’ve got a problem?”

      He bobbed his head, not letting go of his sandwich to take a sip of his coffee. “We might,” he said, downing half of it in one go. “But you understand I simply cannot go to Dali with your scary bedtime story of killer demon babies.”

      Jenks’s wings clattered in disgust. I, too, wasn’t happy, my foot starting to bob.

      “Ku’Sox hasn’t done anything against the law. That is, our law,” Al said, one hand holding his sandwich, the other his coffee. “Especially if these children are potentially demons. It’s the first time he’s ever shown a hint of an interest in seeing our species regain its health and should be applauded. As for Nick? He’s just a human. Mostly harmless.”

      Outraged, I stood. “Al, you are underestimating the danger here. Yes, Nick is just a human, but he’s not afraid to do things that might kill him if he thinks the risk is good. You can’t fight something like that. Will you just listen to me? How come no one listens to me! Is it the dress?” I snapped, my anger misplaced but real. “Maybe the curves? If I shaved my head and dressed like Newt, would you take me seriously then?”

      The demon’s chewing paused as he sent his eyes over my shape, silent as he took a sip of coffee. “Now, now, no need to go to extremes,” he said softly. “Where is the proof that he’s planning mischief, itchy witch?”

      My shoulders slumped. If he was calling me itchy witch, he believed me, believed the danger, and that was all I wanted. “I talked to him. He as much as admitted so.”

      Red goat-slitted eyes showing over his glasses, Al made a bland face. “You talked to Ku’Sox?”

      I blinked. “God, no. Nick.”

      “Ahh.” Clearly relieved, he took a bite of sandwich. “Then you have nothing,” he mumbled around his full mouth.

      Frustrated, I slumped back into my chair, my elbow just missing my scrying mirror. Jenks’s dust sifting down seemed to fall through the glass, but I was too frustrated to care.

      “Oh, very well,” Al grumped with bad grace. “I suppose you’ll be bad-tempered until I talk to Dali. I’ll do it in the morning—he’s crankier than you if he doesn’t get his beauty sleep.”

      My head came up, and I smiled, glad I had him to go to. Then I wondered how I’d gotten to the point where going to a demon was a good thing. “Thanks,” I said, meaning it.

      Al stood, coffee in one hand, half-eaten sandwich in the other. “Indeed,” he said, then vanished in a wash of ever-after. His cane in the corner went with him, and then my eyes darted to the counter when the coffeepot popped out.

      “Hey!” I shouted, but it was too late. My fingers drummed once in discontent, but I could sympathize. You couldn’t get a cup of decent coffee in the ever-after for any amount of money. I’d pick the coffeepot up Wednesday, but experience told me that a rank burnt-amber smell would taint the coffee for weeks.

      “What an ass,” Jenks scoffed. “He took our coffeemaker!”

      Shrugging, I went to open the window. “I’ll get a new one tomorrow on the way out to Trent’s.” The slider moved up with its accustomed ease, and I stood a moment, listening to the pixies playing in the night as the stink of demons filtered out. My thoughts went to Nick, and my heart hardened. He had lied to me, misled me, and betrayed me time and again. I’d warned him, and I wouldn’t feel guilty for whatever happened.

      “You going to call Ivy?” Jenks asked, and I turned, my arms around my middle as I looked at her empty chair and her shut-down computer. Anything left open was going to smell like ever-after, and I bent to get the trash can out from under the sink. My first impulse was yes, seeing as she would like a piece of Nick’s ass in a glass as much as me, but she’d tell Glenn, and Glenn didn’t work for the FIB anymore. He had retired after finding out that HAPA had infiltrated the FIB, refusing to work for a company he couldn’t trust implicitly and moving to Flagstaff with Daryl in the hopes that the higher elevation and cleaner air would help the nymph. Calling Ivy would only get them all in a turmoil.

      Pinning the trash bin against the center counter, I ran my arm over the counter, throwing away the food that was open. “No,” I said, and I met Jenks’s eyes when he clattered his wings in disapproval. “It’s the first time she’s ever done anything healthy in her relationships,” I said, not sure it was the right thing to do. “I’m not going to screw it up. She’ll be back in a week.”

      Jenks’s dust shifted from an uneasy green to a more neutral silver. “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he said as he flew to sit on the windowsill to watch his kids.

      But it didn’t feel right.

      Chapter Four

      If I were to die and come back as a horse, I’d want to be a horse in Trent’s stables. The stalls were large, the hay sweet smelling, and the layout set to funnel the wind from the pasture right through it all to create the sensation of an open pavilion. Tucking a strand of hair back under my hat, I gave Molly a pat, running my hand down her side to feel the swallow of air she’d taken in to inflate herself so the saddle wouldn’t be so binding. I’d have to walk her until she released it before I tightened the cinch a final time.

      “Molly, you’re a sweet horse, but predictable,” I said as I turned her around in the expansive box stall and walked her into the corridor. Around me were contented snuffs, grindings, and flicking of ears and tails. We weren’t in the wing where Trent kept his racehorses. No, these were the animals he kept for the Hunt, and they were far more intelligent and levelheaded.

      My boots were silent on the sawdust as I headed for the north paddock. In the background was Ceri’s high, serious voice going over our route with the stable manager. As soon as Jenks got back with Trent and Ray, we’d be taking the river path where we could stay in the shelter of the old-growth forest.

      The late-morning sun was high and it was unusually hot outside, but the upper housing units caught most of the rays to leave the open stables cool. I couldn’t help but be reminded of camp—though I didn’t recall a lot of it, I did remember the stables. My endurance had been nil then, and the horses had made me feel strong. Though seemingly sure of himself, Trent had been anything but—until I told him to stop letting Lee bully him and stand up for himself. They found Lee in the camp well three days later. Maybe Trent listened to me more than I thought.

      My faint caffeine headache was finally easing, and I grabbed my to-go cup for the last swallows. It had gone cold, and tossing the empty cup in the trash barrel, I came out blinking into the sun, Molly clopping behind me. Seeing Quen already there with Lucy waiting for us, I smiled.

      Quen was standing sideways with Lucy on his hip, making a striking