Dead Witch Walking (16 page)

“If I accuse Trent without solid proof, he will slide through the courts on a technicality.” I couldn’t look at her. “It has to be fast and idiot proof. Something the media can get their teeth into and run with.” My motions were jerky as I picked up the cheese I had spilled and put it back on the pizza. “I have to get one of those discs, and tomorrow I will.”

A small noise of disbelief came from Ivy. “I can’t believe you’re rushing back, no plans, no preparations. Nothing. You already tried the no-thinking approach and you got caught.”

My face burned. “Just because I don’t plan out my trips to the bathroom, it doesn’t mean I’m not a good runner,” I said tightly.

Her jaw clenched. “I never said you weren’t a good runner. I only meant a little planning might save you some embarrassing mistakes, like what happened today.”

“Mistakes!” I exclaimed. “Look here, Ivy. I’m a damn fine runner.”

She arched her thin eyebrows. “You haven’t had a clean tag in the last six months.”

“That wasn’t me, that was Denon! He admitted it. And if you are so unimpressed with my abilities, why did you beg that I let you come with me?”

“I didn’t,” Ivy said. Her eyes narrowed and spots of anger appeared on her cheeks.

Not wanting to argue with her, I turned to put the pizza in the oven. The dry whoosh of air made my cheeks tighten and sent wisps of my hair floating into my eyes. “Yes, you did,” I muttered, knowing she could hear me, then said louder, “I know exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Really?” she said from right behind me. I stifled a gasp and whipped around. Jenks was standing on the windowsill next to Mr. Fish, white-faced. “So tell me,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s your
perfect plan
?”

Not wanting her to know she had scared me, I brushed past her, deliberately showing her my back as I scraped the flour off the counter with that big knife. The hair on the back of my neck rose, and I turned to find her just where I had left her, even if her arms were crossed and a dark shadow was flitting behind her eyes. My pulse quickened. I knew I shouldn’t have been arguing with her.

Jenks darted between Ivy and me. “How are we going to get in, Rachel?” he asked, alighting beside me on the counter.

I felt safer with him watching her, and I purposely turned my back on Ivy. “I’m going in as a mink.” Ivy made a noise of disbelief and I stiffened. Brushing the loosened flour into my hand, I dumped it into the trash. “Even if I’m spotted, they won’t know it’s me. It will be a simple snatch and dash.” Trent’s words about my activities flitted through me, and I wondered.

“Burglarizing the office of a councilman is not a simple snatch and dash,” Ivy said, the tension seeming to ooze from her. “It’s grand theft.”

“With Jenks, I’ll be in and out of his office in two minutes. Out of the building in ten.”

“And buried in the basement of the I.S. tower in an hour,” Ivy said. “You’re nuts. Both of you are bloody nuts. It’s a fortress in the middle of the freaking woods! And that’s not a plan—it’s an idea. Plans are on paper.”

Her voice had become scornful, pulling my shoulders tight. “If I used plans, I’d be dead three times over,” I said. “I don’t need a plan. You learn all you can, then you just do it. Plans can’t take into account surprises!”

“If you used a plan, you wouldn’t have any surprises.”

Ivy stared at me, and I swallowed. More than a hint of black swirled in her eyes, and my stomach clenched.

“I have a more enjoyable path if you’re looking for suicide,” she breathed.

Jenks landed on my earring, jolting my eyes from Ivy. “It’s the first smart thing she’s done all week,” he said. “So back off, Tamwood.”

Ivy’s eyes narrowed, and I took a quick step back as she was distracted. “You’re as bad as her, pixy,” she said, showing her teeth. Vamp teeth were like guns. You didn’t pull them unless you were going to use them.

“Let her do her job!” Jenks shouted back.

Ivy went wire tight. A cold draft hit my neck as Jenks shifted his wings as if to fly. “Enough!” I cried, before he could leave me. I wanted him right were he was. “Ivy. If you have a better idea, tell me. If not—shut up.”

Together Jenks and I looked at Ivy, stupidly thinking we were stronger together than alone. Her eyes flashed to black. My mouth went dry. They were unblinking, alive with a promise as yet only hinted at. A tickle in my belly swirled up to close my throat. I couldn’t tell if it was fear or anticipation. She fixed upon my eyes, not breathing.
Don’t look at my neck,
I thought, panicking.
Oh. God. Don’t look at my neck.
“Rot and hell,” Jenks whispered.

But she shuddered, turning away to lean over the sink. I was shaking, and could swear I heard a sigh of relief from Jenks. This, I realized, could have been really, really bad.

Ivy’s voice sounded dead when she next spoke. “Fine,” she said to the sink. “Go get yourself killed. Both of you.” She jerked herself into motion and I jumped. Hunched and pained-looking, she stalked out of the kitchen. Too soon to be believed came the sound of the church’s front door slamming, then nothing.

Someone,
I thought,
was going to get hurt tonight.

Jenks left my earring, alighting on the windowsill. “What’s with her?” he asked belligerently into the sudden quiet. “You would almost think she cared.”

I
woke from a sound sleep, jolted by the distant sound of glass breaking. I could smell wood incense. My eyes flashed open.

Ivy was bending over me, her face inches from mine.

“No!” I shouted, punching out in a blind panic. My fist caught her in the gut. Ivy clutched her middle and fell to the floor, struggling to breathe. I scrambled to crouch on my bed. My eyes darted from the gray window to the door. My heart pounded, and I went cold in a painful rush of adrenaline. She was between me and my only way out.

“Wait,” she gasped, her robe sleeve falling to her elbow as she reached to catch me.

“You backstabbing, bloodsucking vamp,” I hissed.

My breath caught in surprise as Jenks—no, it was Jax—flitted from the windowsill to hover before me. “Ms. Rachel,” he said, distracted and tense. “We’re under attack. Fairies.” He nearly spat the last word.

Fairies,
I thought in a wash of cold fear as I glanced at my bag. I couldn’t fight fairies with my charms. They were too fast. The best I could do would be to try and squish one. Oh God. I’d never killed anyone in my entire life. Not even by accident. I was a runner, damn it. The idea was to bring them in alive, not dead. But fairies…

My gaze shot to Ivy, and I flushed as I realized what she was doing in my room. With as much grace as I could find, I got off my bed. “Sorry,” I whispered, offering her a hand up.

Her head tilted so she could see me past the curtain of her hair. Pain barely hid her anger. A white hand darted out and yanked me down. I hit the floor with a yelp, panicking again as she covered my mouth with a firm hand. “Shut up,” she wheezed, her breath on my cheek. “You want to get us killed? They’re already inside.”

Eyes wide, I whispered around her fingers, “They won’t come inside. It’s a church.”

“Fairies don’t recognize holy ground,” she said. “They couldn’t care less.”

They were already inside.
Seeing my alarm, Ivy took her hand from my mouth. My eyes went to the heating vent. Reaching out a slow hand, I closed it, wincing at the squeak.

Jax lit upon on my pajama-covered knee. “They invaded our garden,” he said, the murderous cast on his childlike face looking terribly wrong. “They’re going to pay. And here I am, stuck babysitting you two lunkers.” He flitted to the window in disgust.

There was a bump from the kitchen, and Ivy yanked me down as I tried to rise. “Stay put,” she said softly. “Jenks will take care of them.”

“But—” I bit back my protest as Ivy turned to me, her eyes black in the dim light of the early morning. What could Jenks do against fairy assassins? He was trained in backup, not guerrilla warfare. “Look, I’m sorry,” I whispered. “For hitting you, I mean.”

Ivy didn’t move. A seething mix of emotion had gathered behind her eyes, and I felt my breath catch. “If I wanted you, little witch,” she said, “you couldn’t stop me.”

Chilled, I swallowed hard. It sounded like a promise.

“Something’s changed,” she said, her attention on my closed door. “I didn’t expect this for another three days.”

A sick feeling washed over me. The I.S. had changed its tactics. I had brought this on myself. “Francis,” I said. “It’s my fault. The I.S. knows I can slip past their watchers now.” I pressed my fingertips into my temples. Keasley, the old man across the street, had warned me.

There was a third crash, louder this time. Ivy and I stared at the door. I could hear my heartbeat. I wondered if Ivy could, too. After a long moment, there was a tiny knock at the door. Tension slammed into me, and I heard Ivy take a slow breath, gathering herself.

“Papa?” Jax said softly. There was a whine of noise from the hall, and Jax darted to the door. “Papa!” he shouted.

I lurched to my feet, shoulders slumping. I flicked on the light, squinting in the sudden glare at the clock Ivy had lent me. Five-thirty. I’d only been asleep an hour.

Ivy rose with startling quickness, opening the door and stalking out with the hem of her robe furling. I winced as she left. I hadn’t meant to hurt her. No, that wasn’t true. I had. But I thought she was making me into an early morning snack.

Jenks careened in, nearly crashing into the window as he tried to land.

“Jenks?” I said, deciding my apology to Ivy could wait. “Are you all right?”

“We-e-e-e-ell,” he drawled, sounding as if he were drunk. “We won’t have to worry about fairies for a while.” My eyes widened at the length of steel in his hand. It had a wooden handle and was the size of one of those sticks they put olives on. Staggering, he sat down hard, accidentally bending his lower set of wings under him.

Jax pulled his father to his feet. “Papa?” he said, worried. Jenks was a mess. One of his upper wings was in tatters. He was bleeding from several scratches, one right under his eye. The other was swollen shut. He leaned heavily on Jax, who was struggling to keep his father upright.

“Here,” I said, tucking my hand under and behind Jenks, forcing him to sit on my palm. “Let’s get you to the kitchen. The light’s better in there. Maybe we can tape your wing.”

“No light there,” Jenks slurred. “Broke ’em.” He blinked, struggling to focus. “Sorry.”

Worried, I cupped my hand over him, ignoring his muffled protests. “Jax,” I said, “get your mom.” He grabbed his father’s sword and darted out just below the ceiling. “Ivy?” I called as I edged my way through the dark hall. “What do you know about pixies?”

“Apparently not enough,” she said from right behind me, and I jumped.

I elbowed the light switch as I entered the kitchen. Nothing. The lights were busted.

“Wait,” Ivy said. “There’s glass all over the floor.”

“How can you tell?” I said in disbelief, but I hesitated, not willing to chance my bare feet in the dark. Ivy brushed past me in a whisper of black, and I shuddered as the breeze of her passage chilled me. She was going vampy. There was the crunch of glass, and the fluorescent bulb over the oven flickered into life, illuminating the kitchen in an uncomfortable glow.

Thin, fluorescent lightbulb glass littered the floor. There was a pungent haze in the air. My eyebrows rose as I realized it was a cloud of fairy dust. It caught in my throat, and I put Jenks on the counter before I sneezed and accidentally dropped him.

Breath held, I picked my way to the window to open it farther. Mr. Fish was laying helpless in the sink, his bowl shattered. I gingerly plucked him from between the thick shards, filling a plastic cup and plunking him in. Mr. Fish wiggled, shuddered, and sank to the bottom. Slowly his gills moved back and forth. He was okay.

“Jenks?” I said, turning to find him standing where I had left him. “What happened?”

“We got ’em,” he said, barely audible, listing to the side.

Ivy took the broom from the pantry and began sweeping the glass into a pile.

“They thought I didn’t know they were there,” Jenks continued as I rummaged for some tape, starting as I found a severed fairy wing. It looked like a Luna moth’s wing rather than a dragonfly’s. The scales rubbed off on my fingers, staining them green and purple. I carefully set the wing aside. There were several very complicated spells that called for fairy dust.

Jeez,
I thought, turning away. I was going to be sick. Someone had died, and I was considering using part of him to spell.

“Little Jacey spotted them first,” Jenks said, his voice falling into an eerie cadence. “On the far side of the human graves. Pink wings in the lowering moon as the earth slipped ’round her silver light. They reached our wall. Our lines were strung. We held our land. What’s said is done.”

Bewildered, I looked at Ivy standing silent with her unmoving broom. Her eyes were wide. This was weird. Jenks wasn’t swearing; he sounded poetic. And he wasn’t done.

“The first went down beneath the oak, stung by the taste of steel in his blood. The second on holy ground did fall, stained with the cries of his folly. The third in the dust and salt did fail, sent back to his master, a silent warning given.” Jenks looked up, clearly not seeing me. “This ground is ours. So it is said with broken wing, poisoned blood, and our unburied dead.”

Ivy and I stared at each other through the ugly light. “What the hell?” Ivy whispered, and Jenks’s eyes cleared. He turned to us, touched his head in salute, and slowly collapsed.

“Jenks!” Ivy and I cried, jolted into motion. Ivy got there first. She cupped Jenks into her hands and turned to me with a panicked look. “What do I do?” she cried.

“How should I know?” I shouted back. “Is he breathing?”

There was a sound of jangling wind chimes, and Jenks’s wife darted into the room, trailing a wake of at least a dozen pixy children. “Your living room is clean,” she said brusquely, her silk fog-colored cloak billowing to a stop around her. “No charms. Take him there. Jhem, go turn the light on ahead of Ms. Ivy, then help Jinni fetch my kit here. Jax, take the rest of this lot through the church. Start in the belfry. Don’t miss a crack. The walls, the pipes, the cable and phone lines. Watch the owls, and mind you check that priest hole. You even think you smell a spell or one of those fairies, you sing out. Clear? Now go.”

The pixy children scattered. Ivy, too, obediently followed the tiny woman’s order and hotfooted it into the living room. I would have thought it amusing but for Jenks unmoving on her palm. Limping, I followed them.

“No, love,” the tiny woman directed as Ivy went to set Jenks on a cushion. “The end table, please. I need a hard surface to cut against.”

Cut against?
I thought, moving Ivy’s magazines off the table and onto the floor to make room. I sat down on the closest chair and tilted the lamp shade. My adrenaline was fading, leaving me light-headed and cold in my flannel pajamas. What if Jenks was really hurt? I was shocked he had actually killed two fairies.
He had killed them.
I had put people in the hospital before, sure, but kill someone? I thought back to my fear as I huddled in the dark next to a tense vampire and wondered if I could do the same.

Ivy set Jenks down as if he were made of tissue paper, then backed to the door. Her tall stance hunched, making her look nervous and out of place. “I’ll check outside,” she said.

Mrs. Jenks smiled, showing an ageless warmth in her smooth, youthful features. “No, love,” she said. “It’s safe now. We have at least a full day before the I.S. can find another fairy clan willing to breach our lines. And there’s not enough money to get pixies to invade other pixies’ gardens. It just proves fairies are uncouth barbarians. But you go search if you like. The youngest bairn could dance among the flowers this morning.”

Ivy opened her mouth as if to protest, then realizing the pixy was entirely serious, she dropped her eyes and slipped out the back door.

“Did Jenks say anything before he passed out?” Mrs. Jenks asked as she arranged him so his wings were awkwardly splayed. He looked like a pinned bug on display, and I felt ill.

“No,” I said, wondering at her calm attitude. I was nearly frantic. “He started in like he was reciting a sonnet or something.” I pulled my pajama top tighter to my throat and hunched into myself. “Is he going to be all right?”

She sank to her knees beside him, her relief obvious as she ran a careful finger under her husband’s swollen eye. “He’s fine. If he was cursing or reciting poetry, he’s fine. If you told me he was singing, I’d be worried.” Her hands slowed their motion over him, and her eyes went distant. “The one time he came home singing, we nearly lost him.” Her eyes cleared. Pressing her lips together in a mirthless smile, she opened the bag her children had brought.

I felt a flush of guilt. “I’m really sorry about this, Mrs. Jenks,” I said. “If it hadn’t been for me, this never would have happened. If Jenks wants to break his contract, I’ll understand.”

“Break his contract!” Mrs. Jenks fixed her eyes on me with a frightening intensity. “Heavens, child. Not over a little bit of a thing like this.”

“But Jenks shouldn’t have to fight them,” I protested. “They could’ve killed him.”

“There were only three,” she said, spreading a white cloth next to Jenks like a surgical kit, laying bandages, salve, even what looked like artificial wing membrane on it. “And they knew better. They saw the warnings. Their deaths were legitimate.” She smiled, and I could see why Jenks had used his wish to keep her. She looked like an angel, even with the knife she held.

“But they weren’t after you,” I insisted. “They were after me.”

Her head shook to send the tips of her wispy hair waving. “Doesn’t matter,” she said in her lyrical voice. “They would have gotten the garden regardless. But I think they did it for the
money.
” She nearly spat the word. “It took a lot of I.S. money to convince them to try my Jenks’s strength.” She sighed, cutting out portions of the thin membrane to match the holes in Jenks’s wing with the coolness of someone mending a sock.

“Don’t fret,” she said. “They thought that because we had just taken possession, they could catch us off balance.” She turned a smug eye to me. “They found out wrong, didn’t they?”

I didn’t know what to say. The pixy/fairy animosity went far deeper than I had imagined. Being of the mind-set that no one could own the earth, pixies and fairies shunned the idea of property titles, relying upon the simple adage might makes right. And because they weren’t in competition with anyone but each other, the courts turned a blind eye to their affairs, allowing them to settle their own disagreements, up to and including killing each other, apparently. I wondered what had happened to whoever had the garden before Ivy rented the church.

“Jenks likes you,” the small woman said, rolling up the wing membrane and packing it away. “Calls you his friend. I’ll give you the same title out of respect for him.”

“Thanks,” I stammered.

“I don’t trust you, though,” she said, and I blinked. She was as direct as her husband, and just about as tactful. “Is it true you made him a partner? For real and not just a cruel prank?”

I nodded, more serious than I had been all week. “Yes, ma’am. He deserves it.”