American Demon - Kim Harrison Page 0,54

bridge into the Hollows. Jenks wanted to pick up a few things from the boat, making it our first stop before starting part two of our weekend. Mood bad, I listened to Al’s phone ring as the sun flashed between the girders. I imagined him taking it out of his pocket, sniffing, and dropping it back in unanswered—and it was starting to tick me off.

“Damn sensitive demon,” I muttered as I gave up, and Jenks, who was sitting on his favorite spot on the rearview mirror, exchanged a worried look with Trent.

“I’m sure he’s fine, Rache,” the pixy said, and I shoved my phone away.

“Well, I’d be a lot finer if he’d answer his phone,” I complained.

“Did you try him on his mirror?” Trent asked, his musical voice soothing.

I stared out the window, my fist against my mouth. “Yes. He’s got a do-not-disturb up.” I exhaled, frustrated. “I don’t even know where he lives. Did you know that? He won’t tell me.” I hated that my voice carried my hurt, but there it was.

“I’m sorry.”

Trent’s hand touched my knee. A tantalizing dart of energy went through me, and I tried to smile. We had the entire two days before us, and I wasn’t going to let Al ruin it.

“So what do you want to do this afternoon?” I asked as we angled toward the Hollows waterfront. The streets were almost deserted this early, making it nice. Jenks cleared his throat, and I added, “After we pick up the last of Jenks’s stores and drop him off at the church, I mean.” I lifted my gaze to Jenks, wondering why he was wearing the fancy embroidered suit that Belle had made him. The scrumptious outfit was too posh for the weekend. Maybe it was to impress the fairy clan he’d be sharing the winter with. “What do you need at the church anyway?”

“Milkweed.” Jenks picked nervously at the suit as I noticed it. “I went through Jumoke and Izzy’s stores last night, and they don’t have any milkweed stalk. There’s some out at the Macis plot, and this will probably be my last chance to gather some. I’d get one from Trent’s gardens, but he doesn’t have any milkweed. God help you, man,” he said to Trent. “Do you know how useful milkweed is?”

“Apparently not,” Trent murmured, and my unease with Al began to unknot.

“Its sap is poisonous, so you can use it to kill just about anything smaller than yourself,” Jenks said, his dust sparkling when we turned and the low sun hit it. “It’s sticky, so bam! Glue.”

“The seed fluff can be mattress stuffing,” I said, and Jenks’s wings blurred to invisibility.

“Yep,” he agreed. “But I want the fibrous stalk. Trent doesn’t have anything in his conservatory to make clothes out of, and those newlings of Jumoke and Izzy are going to need something disposable before they get back in the garden.”

That made me feel good, and I smiled as Trent drove into Piscary’s old lot. The onetime tavern, now a private residence, looked peaceful in the cool fall morning. Quiet. Kisten’s boat at the quay looked even more alone, and I stifled a pang at the thought of being there by myself.

“Darn kids aren’t thinking ahead far enough,” Jenks said, more to himself than to us. “A stalk of milkweed will save them a month of misery.”

My smile deepened as Trent parked right at the boat, and as one, we all got out.

“Trent, be a pal, will you?” Jenks said as he flew a back-and-forth arc between Trent and the boat, impatient with our slow pace in the chill air. “I can’t carry it all at once like you can.”

I didn’t have a clue why Trent was allowed to help Jenks and I wasn’t, but I had a feeling that it was because pixy women generally didn’t do the heavy lifting. “Water is low. Watch your step,” I warned as I grabbed a pylon and made the awkward jump to the boat. The sixty-foot craft hardly moved under my weight, but I still took a moment to get my balance. Trent was quickly behind, and Jenks hummed impatiently as I dug my keys from my pocket and unlocked the sliding-glass door. It was a substantial lock for a boat, but Kisten had been all about safety.

Not that it saved him in the end.

Jenks flew in ahead, and I followed, Trent slow in the rear. He’d never actually been in Kisten’s boat before, and I watched his eyes take

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