really didn't care. Melancholy, I looked out over the distance, feeling the breeze, tasting it almost. It was too quiet for my garden, so long holding the singing or giggling of pixies by sun or starlight. They were either gone or hiding. Pierce gave a small start as I slipped my fingers into his. So I needed his moral support. Eyes forward, I stepped out, feet silent in the manicured dirt as I crossed the opening and watched the door get bigger. My pace didn't falter until I reached it.
My knees went wobbly as I stared at it. Jenks was behind it, mourning his wife. Of all the demons I'd faced, of all the wicked witches, wild Weres, and evil elves, this was the most daunting thing I'd ever done. Jenks's life was on the line. I couldn't fail.
"Should we knock?" Pierce asked as we looked at it.
"Absolutely." Gathering my courage, I knocked, knowing by the flat sound that it wouldn't carry into the stump any distance. Pierce cleared his throat and pulled himself straight, as if we were calling on neighbors, and after a moment, he glanced at me.
"Can you tap a line?" he asked, his blue eyes showing a hint of trepidation. "I'm a mite skerry to try. I'm of a mind it might explode in me, being so small."
"I've been connected since we did the spell. It's okay."
"Oh." He hesitated, and I felt a tingle between us. "I think we should just go in," he said, his eyes on the wooden door.
Nodding, I pushed the door open.
Chapter Twenty-four
Jenks's front door opened to a black tunnel slightly larger than the door itself. We had to step down to enter, and the unusually deep drop jarred all the way up my spine. It was dark but for the light coming in behind us, and there was no echo. The air smelled of ginger, and my clenched jaw eased. There was a tweak on my awareness, and a soft glow grew at Pierce's feet. It was that mundane ley-line light charm he knew, and I gingerly picked it up, able to handle the globe where Pierce couldn't. If he tried, his aura would probably break the charm. The ball of ever-after was cool to the touch, and slippery, as if it was going to ooze right through my fingers.
Pierce took his hat off and shut the door behind us. Wonder crossed him, and I followed his gaze to the ceiling and walls. Pixy dust coated everything, catching the light and throwing it back to make it brighter yet. Grooves had been carved to collect the pixy dust, and they glowed the brightest to show fantastic patterns of swirls and spirals. It was singularly beautiful, and I wondered that it had all been made in less than two years. Jenks's family was amazing.
"Jenks?" I called softly, remembering we hadn't been invited in.
Pierce's hand landed on my shoulder, heavy with warning. "Wait."
I turned in protest, only to watch as a green-tinted bubble of ever-after snapped into existence around us. "Holy crap!" I shouted, pressing into him when a wasp as big as my entire upper body landed on the circle, stinger probing the bubble for a way in. "What in hell is that!"
Pierce put an arm around me so I wouldn't hit his circle. "That's a rip-roaring fine guard dog, that's what that is," he said, and the scent of redwood hit me hard. "I don't think we would smell right even if we swam in pixy dust," Pierce muttered, and I silently agreed, thinking Pierce smelled fine just the way he was.
I wasn't afraid of wasps, but the thing was the size of a goose, crawling over the bubble with its wings at an angry tilt. "I'm going to fry it on the count of three," I said, thinking that enough raw ever-after energy ought to stun it at least. Why I didn't balk at killing a wasp was simple - wasps weren't intelligent. "One, two, three!"
The bubble dropped, and I pulled on the line, throwing a ball of smutty gold at the insect. Fear gave it more force than usual, and my eyes widened as the energy swarmed over it and the wasp curled up and fell at our feet. Pierce grunted his approval, and I breathed a sigh of relief seeing it on the floor where Pierce could simply stab it... and then it exploded.
Shrieking, I ducked as hot splatters hit the walls to make an ugly sound. An