Silver and ebony meshed in a sharply angular pattern that never seemed to repeat and, indeed, seemed to change with the light, making a mesmerizing pattern that would get anyone to stare even if Jenks didn't look like a million bucks in it.
"You sure you don't want me to harvest more of that yew?" Jenks asked as he came to stand on the spigot. "The gargoyles out there don't bother me."
I smiled and ran the now-warm water into the nested spell pots. "No. I'd rather wait. Friday sunrise is the equinox."
Jenks nodded, jingling his bells when Rex padded in with Belle on her shoulders. "Je-e-enks-s-s-s," she hissed, her angular features drawn up in annoyance. "I told you to take that off. Those are not fighting clothes-s-s."
"It's black, I'm wearing it," he said, his wings blurring to invisibility. "I don't have anything else to put on."
That wasn't entirely accurate, and I hid a smile and moved the graduated cylinders and mortar to the sink, piling them in the sudsy spell pots. Wringing out the saltwater-soaked rag, I began wiping down my spell-prep area, thinking it rather useless when half of Jenks's brood was up there, dusting heavily.
"The tails-s-s are too long. If an enemy catches it, he will have you at a dis-s-sadvantage," she said. "The buttons are too large. They glint in the light. The bells-s-s will give you away."
I nodded, agreeing with her, and Jenks began to look worried. "I can muffle the bells," he said, tugging the coat straight. "I like it, fairy woman! I'm wearing it!"
"Your vanity will be your death," she hissed at him, and Jenks put his hands on his hips.
"Yeah?"
Scowling, Belle nudged Rex toward the door, but the fluffy yellow cat purred her way to me instead, coming to twine about my feet and beg for some attention. Seeing her intent, Belle slipped off, shaking her clothes straight and adjusting the bow across her back.
Jenks flew to the center counter where Belle couldn't see him from the floor. "Are you sure all this is going to work?" he asked, looking over the assembled charms and spells.
"As long as I can keep your kids' dust out of them," I said, then bent down to pick Rex up. "Hi, sweetheart," I crooned, trying to distract the cat from the pixies arguing over the gumdrop they had found left over from solstice cookie decorations. "I can't pet you right now. I'm still cleaning the kitchen."
Jenks rose up on a column of muddy gold. "Everyone out!" he shouted, and the handful of pixies in the rack whined their disappointment. "Go play in the belfry or something!" he added, and the complaints turned to delight. "We're spending tonight inside!" he added when half of them darted out. "You hear me? I don't want any of you out there pestering the gargoyles! They might squish you before they know you're there. Jrixibell! You hear me?"
"Yes, Papa!" the little pixy moaned, then darted out, her dust a bright red of mischief.
"Thanks, Jenks," I said with a long exhalation, then glanced out the window at the dark garden, the gargoyles' eyes winking eerily. The older ones looked huge this close to the ground, wings as big as sails stretching in the shadows. No wonder Jenks had corralled his kids back inside for the night. Creeped out, I rinsed the ceramic spoons and set them aside to soak in my saltwater vat.
Rex, who had hid under the chair with wide eyes and flattened ears at the noise from the departing pixies, came out, meowing up at me for an early dinner. Jenks's wings began to glow as he took to the air. "I don't like leaving the lines this vulnerable, but Nick isn't going to show with those gargoyles out there. They probably hate Ku'Sox more than you do."
I made a sour face. The fact that my line was the only one on the US continent that wasn't screaming probably had something to do with them being here, too.
"I don't trust my kids," Jenks said as he rose up, wings clattering and limbs stretching. "I'll be on the steeple."
"I'll join you," Belle said, resettling her bow. "I don't trus-s-st your kids, either."
Jenks hovered where he was, dust pooling under him. "You want a ride up there?"
Shocked, I stared. Belle, too, seemed taken aback at his offer. "Do you think you can handle my weight, little man?"
"Tink's panties, yes."
I watched, amazed as Jenks darted over, picked her up from behind by the waist, and rose, Belle hissing in delight. Wings humming, they flew into the hall, a line of descending silver stars marking their path.
"By the Goddess, you're more maneuverable than I ever was," I heard faintly, then even the sound of Jenks's wings was gone.
"Huh," I said softly, feeling good. "How about that?"
Smiling, I turned back to the sink. Past the blue curtains and Al's chrysalis, the hunched shadows of gargoyles were thick among the tombstones, but I could imagine it a month from now with the early flowers blooming and pixies out there instead of in here. I hoped I was here to see it. I had gotten rid of most of the ifs, but it would only take one to bring it all crashing down. Please be okay, Bis.
Slowly the silence soaked in as I finished rinsing everything and set my spelling supplies to dry. My smile faded, and the feeling of being watched pricked through me. There was nothing outside but the low rumbles of the gargoyles. But I knew Nick was out there somewhere-becoming frustrated.
The hair on the back of my neck rose, and even knowing Jenks was on the steeple, I felt as if I was being watched. The air was thick with the scent of vampires, evidence of Ivy and Nina, and nervous, I ran the tap to warm the water as I messed with the soap, head down as I tried to scrub the burnt amber stink out from under my fingernails.
Goose bumps rose, and I couldn't say why. "Stop it, Rachel," I whispered as I turned, shocked to see a young, thin vampire standing at my table.
Holy shit! I thought, panic icing through me, first that he might know what I was doing, and then because there was a undead vampire standing in my kitchen and I hadn't heard him come in. "Who in hell are you?" I said, heart pounding. No wonder I'd felt as if I'd been being watched!
For an instant, I thought he looked like Kisten, the same blond hair falling about his eyes, and when he tossed his head, I almost forgot to breathe. But it wasn't Kisten. This vampire's face was thinner, younger, less worldly wise. His frame wasn't nearly as bulky, giving him a bookish, intelligent mien. His black suit fit him perfectly, a dull white shirt, paisley ascot, and handkerchief finishing his polish. His shoes looked as if they'd never seen the dirt before today.