"Very good, Ray," Quen said, his voice soft and holding pride. "That's the one to get into the big toy box. Now will you go to sleep? Abba has to help Aunt Rachel pick out the toy that's going to get your mother and Lucy back."
The elf name for father? I wondered, vowing to ask Jenks about it later. Guardian? Protector? Mom's Mr. Significant? I didn't know, but it sounded like a term of affection.
Ray's face puckered. I thought she was going to cry, but when Quen raised his eyebrows, she thought better of it, turning away from me to cling to him.
"Oh my God," I said as Quen held her to him with one arm and fitted the key in the lock with the other. "You're teaching her to be a little you," I accused, and Quen flashed a smile, not looking at all guilty.
"Someone has to keep Lucy alive when I'm not around," he said as the door creaked open and he reached in to flick on the light. "Trent's daughter is entirely too trusting, and I doubt her days with a demon are going to change that. Go on in. I'm going to put Ray down. Ellasbeth already has the book in the cabinet, but this will just take a moment."
He turned back to the dim nursery, and I waved bye to Ray, the girl watching me over Quen's shoulder. "Abba," Ray warbled as Quen put her in the crib, and two little hands reached for him. Quen stooped down to reassure her, and I saw the love before the closet door arced shut. I couldn't help but feel good. Jenks sighed, and I jumped, having forgotten he was there. Obviously he'd seen the love between them, too. I knew he missed having newlings.
"Wow," I said as I turned away and took in the "closet." It was impressive, smaller than the vault Trent had been keeping his most precious secrets in, but more organized. Racks of paintings, shelves of knickknacks of various styles and eras, and one big glass-fronted cabinet with leather-bound books took up most of the room. Cabinetry and a small sink ran along one wall, and a library table with two wingback chairs filled the middle space. Underfoot was a rug that looked old enough to fly, and given the location, it just might if you knew the right word.
"Don't touch anything, Jenks," I said, and he scowled at me as he hovered before a rack of shiny ley line baubles.
"I won't break anything," he said, then spilled a flash of silver dust as something caught his attention and he darted to it. "Hey! Trent still has that elf p**n statue you stole."
Eyes rolling, I came to see if it was as graphic as I remembered, but I lingered over the pair of rings below Jenks's feet. One was a simple gold band, the other heavy and ornate. They looked like mismatched wedding bands, reminding me of the rings that Al and I had used when we had shared each other's strengths. "Ah, Quen?"
Jenks had his hands on his hips as he looked over that nasty statue of three elves in the middle of a threesome. "Tink's titties," he said. "I suppose that's possible." His head tilted. "You'd need a lot of grease and two straps, though."
"Quen!" I hissed, and Quen pushed open the safe room's door, almost shutting it completely behind him. Ray was babbling to herself in the other room, but she'd probably drop off if we didn't talk too loudly.
"Let me get you the book," he said, limping past the library table to the tall cabinet.
I pushed close to ask him about the rings, and he handed me a pair of soft gloves lying out on the table. They looked too small, but I tugged them on, thinking they were likely Ceri's. Quen was putting on a second pair. "Thanks," I said, feeling the soft knit mold itself to my fingers. "Those rings by Jenks. How old are they?"
The hiss of escaping air from the temperature-controlled cabinet was soft, and Quen glanced at Jenks as he swung the doors wide. "Not sure," he said shortly. "Old. I can find out."
"Hey, Quen." Jenks circled the statue, avarice in his gaze. "Let me know if Trent ever wants to get rid of this. I have a spot in my front room it would look ace in."
I held my breath as I leaned toward the open cabinet, avoiding any possible demon stink. "Are they demon made?" I asked as I looked over the books, some so old they were falling apart.
Quen looked at me, suspicion in his eyes. "The rings? No. Elven. Why?"
"Al has something similar." I took a hesitant breath, pleased when I found only the honest scent of leather and decaying ink.
Quen snorted, the rude sound seeming odd coming from him. "I doubt that," he said as he scanned the spines. "They're chastity rings."
Jenks sniggered, coming to make annoying circles around me. "Too late for you, Rache."
Irked, I waved him off. I thought it odd that Trent would keep chastity rings next to his elf p**n , but it wasn't like he used any of these things. I think. This was his father's collection, like some dads have stamps. Or guns.
Quen reached for a book set aside by itself. "More accurately, they're binding rings," he said, his face showing the strain as he stretched for it. "It creates a continuous bond between two chis so the wearer of the alpha ring can snuff the magical ability of the other if needed. They were used to keep younger, inexperienced elves from exposing themselves as magic users. They don't work, though. The charm in them is long spent."
"The books don't smell," I said as he set the book on the library table. "Bad, I mean," when he looked at me. No, they didn't smell, but there was a faint whine at the back of my ear, like a high-pitched echo of leashed magic that made me uncomfortable.
"None of them have been in the ever-after for at least five hundred years." His voice was distant as he stood over the book and carefully turned the yellowed pages until he got to a section marked with a black ribbon. The binding made a cracking sound as he shifted the last page, and I swear he winced.
Standing over the tattered book, I looked down to read "Ley Line Corruption and Manipulation" in big, squished loops that I sort of recognized. My eyes went up, and I squinted at Quen suspiciously. "That's Ceri's handwriting."
"No shit!" Jenks said, finally abandoning the statue to come hover over the text.
"I know." Quen's eyes shifted as he read the text. "We have six books here that Ceri has copied. A handful of other scripts. She doesn't remember doing them. Ellasbeth insists that the book stays here. You're welcome to spend the night if you want to read it cover to cover, but I believe this is what you want. I read it before it was returned to Mrs. Withon."
Sitting, I looked at Ceri's extravagant loops and swirls. I sucked at research. If he'd done it already, I was good with that, though I might come back and read it all later. "Thanks," I said as I tugged the book closer. Quen cringed, and I curled my tingling fingertips under.