Into the Woods (40 page)

“I’m holding the bowl,” Bis said quickly, eyes darting.

Vincet took his daughter’s hand, pretending he needed to watch her.

“Chicken shits,” Jenks muttered, scooping out a handful and throwing it at the statue. It hit with a splat, and Ivy, somewhere in the dark, gasped, swearing at him.

At that, Bis grinned to look like a nightmare. “Pigeon shits,” he said cheerfully, and Jenks smeared another glowing handful on Sylvan’s statue’s nose.

The chiseled face looked as if it could see him and knew what he was doing. “It’s not
that
bad,” Jenks muttered, but his nose was wrinkling at the stink. It seemed to be sticking to him even if the modified plastique wasn’t. His gaze dropped to Rachel’s bowl, glinting in the lamplight, and his wings hummed faster. Ivy wouldn’t tell Rachel, would she?

Hovering backward, he looked over his work, almost putting his hands on his hips before stopping at the last moment. If he’d done it right, it’d shatter at the base and out toward the walkway. Sylvan would be free. Jenks’s gaze shifted to the small opening under the dogwood that was Vincet’s home. It was too close for his liking.

“Jumoke,” Jenks said tersely, and the young pixy rose on a glittering column of sparkles. “Set down a layer of flammable dust on the plastique. I have to get this crap off of me.”

“You bet, Dad,” he said enthusiastically, zipping to the statue. Jenks had put a heavy layer of dust in the mix already, but a top dusting would flash it all into flame faster than any petroleum product made from dead dinosaur.

Bis was stretching his neck to get away from the smell, holding the bowl and being more dramatic than Jrixibell pretending to have a sore wing so she wouldn’t have to eat her pollen. He’d used only about half of what he had made. Maybe he should blow both statues up. That would piss off Daryl.

“You got a problem?” Jenks asked, and Bis shook his head, breath held.

“No,” Bis said, his thick lips barely moving. “You done with this?”

“For now,” he said, and Bis shoved the bowl under the bench, then scuttled to the middle of the sidewalk, gasping dramatically when he stopped in the puddle of lamplight.

Frowning, Jenks wiped his hands off on his red bandanna, then wondered what he was going to do with it. He couldn’t put the symbolic flag of good intent back around his waist. Not only did it stink, but taking it back to Matalina to wash wasn’t an option. Glancing at Vincet, he dropped it into the bowl. If Vincet had a problem with it, he could just suck Tink’s toes.

Just off the sidewalk beside Sylvan’s statue, Vincet was on one knee, trying to get his kids to go inside. The triplets were clearly unhappy about being told to go to ground. Vincet was just as reluctant to leave Jenks alone to take them there. Even now, he was eyeing the bow and quiver that Jenks had brought with him to ignite the explosive.

Give me a break
, Jenks thought dryly. Like he’d take the man’s garden? Frowning, he reached for his bow peeking from the small bag beside the dung-filled copper pot. Vincet stiffened when Jenks put the quiver over his shoulders and strung the bow. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten rid of his red bandanna.

“Go inside,” Vincet said tersely to his children, but they only clung to him tighter.

“Papa? I’m scared,” Vi said, her eyes riveted to the crap-smeared statue.

Irritation flashed over Vincet, and taking her hands, the young father faked a smile for his eldest and only daughter. “Go wait with your mother so Jenks can fix this,” he said. “I can’t leave another man alone in my garden with a bow, Vi. Even Jenks. It isn’t right.”

“But Uncle Jenks won’t touch the flowers,” she whined. “Papa, please come with us. Don’t let the ghost out. Please!”

Smiling, Jenks gestured for Jumoke, who was bored and flying up and down like a yo-yo. They had time before the moon hit its zenith point. Daryl wouldn’t appear until Sylvan did, and hopefully the statue would be demolished before then. Jenks had to give Jumoke something to do. That darting up and down was irritating.

“Come here,” he said as he brought out from the bag a pot the size of two fists. “I want you to hold on to the coal pot,” he said, handing it to the excited pixy.

“Got it,” he said, wings clattering, and Jenks reached up, snagging his foot when he started to flit away.

“Keep it lit, Jumoke,” he said, yanking him back down so hard Jumoke lost his balance and had to scramble to find it again. “Give it sips of air, nothing more. If it goes out from too much or too little air, I’m going to have to ask Ivy for a light, and that would be embarrassing.”

“Uh, guys?” Bis interrupted, claws scraping as he slid to a stop beside them.

“Just a minute, Bis,” Jenks said, turning back to Jumoke. “When I ask, take the top off, okay? Not before. The coal won’t last long given full air.” His voice was severe, but Jumoke was holding the small pot with the right amount of care now, and Jenks was satisfied.

“Go wait with your mother!” Vincet shouted across the way, and his two boys darted away to leave a heavy dust trail. But Vi . . . Vi didn’t look so good.

“Jenks?” Bis said, clawed feet shifting, but Jenks’s attention was riveted to Vi. Her dust didn’t look right, and as he watched, her eyes rolled back and her wings collapsed. And her aura—went silver.

Shit.

“Vi!” Vincet shouted, scooping up the girl as she fell into convulsions. “The dryad’s taking her!” he exclaimed, eyes wide in horror as he held his daughter. “She wasn’t even asleep! Blow it up! Blow it up now!”

“Sorry,” Bis said, ears pinned as he looked sheepish. “I tried to tell you.”

Feeling betrayed, Jenks looked at the moon. It wasn’t anywhere near its zenith! Reaching behind him, he fumbled for one of his arrows tied with dandelion fluff at the tip. Wings clattering, he turned to Jumoke, finding him . . . gone.

“What the hell?” he stammered, rising up to scan the area, but there wasn’t a single twinkle of dust anywhere. He was gone! “Jumoke!”

Vincet flew to him with Vi in his arms, his wings clattering and desperation falling from him like the dust he was shedding. “He’s hurting her!” Vincet shouted, Vi’s skin red and her dust white-hot. “Blow it up! Free him!”

“I can’t! Jumoke has the firepot!” Jenks hovered, poised and scanning. Bis waited on the sidewalk, tail lashing, but Jumoke was gone. Ivy was gone. By the dogwood, Noel was a faint glow gathering the two boys and pulling them underground. They were safe.
Where the hell is Jumoke!

“Jumoke!” Jenks shouted, exasperated, and Bis took to the air with two heavy wing beats to find him. They didn’t have time for this, but as Jenks started off in the other direction, he jerked to a halt in midair. Something smelled like honey and sun-warmed gold.

Tink’s dildo, the warrior woman was back.

“You will not!” echoed a vehement voice off the nearby townhouses, and there she was, standing on the sidewalk beside her statue, her bare feet spread wide and her robes shifting. Her expression was frantic, and upon seeing the bow in his hands, she flung her hand out.

“Look out!” Bis shouted, leaping for him.

A blast of honey-smelling air hit them. Tumbling into the air, Jenks felt his heart pound, but he fought with his instinct, folding his wings against him and tightening into a ball as he flew out of control. Holy crap, he was heading right for the trees!

“Gotcha!” came Bis’s faint exhalation, and the wind shifted as the gargoyle caught him, pulling him close.

Jenks’s eyes opened to see the world dip and swoop. In Bis’s other hand were Vincet and Vi. Vincet looked terrified, but Vi’s expression held a shocking amount of hatred. It was Sylvan. That’s why Daryl had appeared! The stupid dryad. Couldn’t he have waited a few more minutes?

With a sharp drop and a wrench that hurt Jenks’s neck, Bis dropped to the ground beside the sidewalk next to a large rock. The wind died. Daryl was coughing with her hand to her chest, shaking as she tried to catch her breath in the pollution-stained air.

Jenks unwedged himself from Bis’s grip and flitted down to feel small beside him. Taking to the air was too chancy, and he could hit the statue from here.

“Why didn’t you shoot it!” Vincet yelled at him, angry as he struggled with Vi, they, too, firmly on the earth.

Where the hell is Jumoke!
Jenks thought, still not sure what end was up yet.

“I warned you,” Daryl wheezed, pulling herself straight again. She wiped her mouth, then hesitated, shocked at the sheen of blood glinting in the lamplight. Gathering her resolve, she hid it, shouting, “You will
die
before I allow Sylvan to perpetrate his abuse on another!”

“You’re a whiny little nymph!” Vi shouted as she struggled to be free. “The gods are dead, and actors play their rules! You’re alone! Give up! The world’s too ugly for your kind!”

“That’s the trouble with you dryads. You talk too much,” Daryl said. Eyes narrowed, she raised her sword. The nearby light flickered and went out. The one behind it went black, too, and like dominos, the townhouses across the park went dark. A distant chorus of complaint rose, joined by the beeping of smoke detectors.

Bis shifted his wings, his back to the rock. “I got a bad feeling about this!” he squeaked.

“Hey! Golden girl!” Ivy shouted from behind them, and Jenks rose up, wings flashing red when he saw the silver dusting of Jumoke with her. “Pick on someone your own size!” she added as she strode forward, boots clacking aggressively.

“Dad!” Jumoke exclaimed as he darted to him.

“Where have you been?” Jenks shouted, his relief coming out as anger. “We can’t blow up the statue without that pot!”

Jumoke’s wings drooped as he landed beside him, pot hugged to his middle. “I’m sorry. I was getting Ivy. I saw Daryl, and I just . . .” The boy’s face screwed up. “I’m sorry, Dad. I shouldn’t have left.”

“Blow it up!” Vincet exclaimed, jerking when Vi got her arm free and smacked his face. He caught her wrist, and Sylvan howled. The white-hot dust spilling from Vi was turning the moss black, burned.

“Let me out!” she said, her childlike voice sounding wrong. “Before that bitch stops you!”

“Ivy’s in the way,” Jenks said tightly. Giving both Jumoke and Vincet a look to stay grounded, Jenks darted after her, coming to a halt at her shoulder as his partner stopped eight feet back from Daryl. The spicy scent of vampire spun through him, seeming to shift his own dust a darker tint. Ivy was pissed. Hell, even her aura was sparkling.

Seeing them together, Daryl dropped her sword, flushed as she looked at Ivy’s tight clothes and anger. “You’re aligned with the pixy? Who are you? A goddess?”

“Ooo! Ooo!” Jenks said, looping the bow over his shoulder so he could have both hands free for his own sword. “I’ve heard this one before. Just say yes, Ivy.”

Ivy was eyeing Daryl with the same evaluation. “Worse,” she said softly, and Jenks shuddered. “I’m heir to madness. Vessel of perversion. Your nightmare should you cross me.”

Daryl’s chin lifted, trembling. “Indeed. We might be sisters then, for I’m the same.”

Ivy hunched slightly, eyeing the woman almost hungrily. “You hurt my friends.” A long hand went out, beckoning. Her lips drew back in a horrible smile, and she let her small but sharp canines show. “Can you hurt me?”

The nymph blinked as the moonlight hit them, then she tightened her sword grip.

The air seemed to hesitate, and when Bis’s nails scraped, Ivy jerked, jumping at her.

Jenks shot straight up, yelling, “Get her away from the statue so I can blow it up!”

“You can’t!” Daryl cried out, moving impossibly fast as she dodged out of Ivy’s attack. Her sword was swinging toward Ivy’s back, and Jenks yelled a warning.

Ivy dropped. Daryl’s sword point missed, but just. Rolling backward, Ivy tried to knock Daryl down, but the nymph jumped straight up. Ivy was standing when she landed, and the two women hesitated, looking at each other in surprise and what might be respect.

“Blow it up, Jenks!” Ivy called out. “I’ll get out of the way!”

Jenks’s mouth dropped open. Holy shit. Ivy didn’t know if she could take her or not.

Darting back to the rock for protection, he sheathed his sword and pulled an arrow from his quiver. “Everyone get behind the rock!” he shouted. “Jumoke, the firepot!”

Leathery wings shaking, Bis scrambled behind the rock. Vincet fought his child as he dragged her to safety, the freedom-hungry dryad screaming. Vi was only a year old. Her tiny body couldn’t take this. She was dusting heavily, glowing like a demon as the energy of the ley line ran through her. Vincet’s own tears turned to dust as he fought to keep her from attacking Daryl—but he looked up at Jenks with hope.

“Here, Dad!” Jumoke shouted, taking off the lid. The scraping of the lid was loud, and Jenks buried the tip of the arrow in it. Immediately the wad of dandelion fluff ignited.
Matalina was the real archer
, he thought as he took aim and the arrow arched away. Fortunately, all he had do to was hit the statue. “Fire in the hold!” he shouted. “Everyone down!”

“No!” Daryl screamed, stretching her hand out. A flash of wind came at him, and he went tumbling backward, but a pained cry echoed, and the force immediately died.

When he found air again under his wings, his arrow was lost and the statue untouched. Daryl was writhing on the cement, downed by Ivy in the instant the nymph lost her concentration. Ivy herself looked winded, holding her arm where the nymph’s sword had scored on her.

“Rhenoranian, help me!” Daryl said, coughing as she got to her knees, undeterred.

Expression pinched, Ivy strode forward, but Daryl groaned, kneeling as she shoved the air at her with both hands.

“Watch out!” Bis cried as Ivy was flung back to land in the flower bed beside Sylvan’s statue as if having been pulled by a string. Frustrated, Jenks lowered his next arrow, not yet lit.

“Let me be your strength, Rhenoranian!” Daryl said, staggering to her feet. “Let me be your vessel!” She turned to Jenks, and his wings went cold. “Let me be your vengeance!”

Worried, Jenks darted up, then down. He couldn’t see the ley line she was pulling on, but the force of it made his wings tingle. Daryl pointed at him with a new confidence, and then Ivy’s scream echoed against the dark windows across the street. Motions blurring, the battle began again. Twelve feet up, Jenks watched, useless bow in hand and knowing he wouldn’t be able to shoot until Ivy downed the nymph. Daryl kept pushing Ivy back to the statue.