Black Magic Sanction th-8

by Kim Harrison

  To one side of me, Pierce stood, his hands clasped before him with a white-knuckled strength, his expression pained from a memory he wouldn't share. Sunset would be here soon, and he'd ignored all my suggestions to leave. He claimed Al would leave him alone as long as he was "protecting" me. I didn't need protecting. Okay, maybe I did.

  One of Jenks's returning children had given Pierce a heavier coat, garden stained and looking like it hadn't been washed since last fall. It went all the way to the ground, and Pierce looked odd with his dirty bare feet peeping out from under it.

  Jenks was a tortured presence at my other side as his home burned with Matalina inside it. Tears glittered into dust as they fell from him, a pure silver that gave him an unreal glow, almost as if he were a ghost. Each breath was pained, rising from deep within him, hurting.

  His children were in the garden, silent. All but Jax had returned, their grief tempered with the unknown. Never had a pixy tried to live past his or her spouse, and though happy they were together, there was no understanding of what came next—joyful that their father was alive, yet mourning their mother. They were confused, not understanding how they could be both.

  The flames took on rims of blue and green as the rooms laden with pixy dust caught, a funnel of heat making the flame swirl into a spire, as if reaching for the heavens. Jenks's fingers brushed mine and took them. Fire cleansed, but nothing could stop the heartache.

  "Tears could not be equal, if I wept diamonds from the skies," Jenks whispered, empty and bereft. "My word silent, though I should howl. Muffled by death, my wings can't lift me high enough to find you. I feel you within. Unaware of my pain. Not knowing why I mourn."

  He lifted his eyes to mine, a glimmer of tears showing. "And why I breathe alone."

  I shifted my bare feet, cold on the earth. I wasn't a poet. I had no words. Tears blurred my sight as we stood and watched his life burn.

  Today had been harder than anything I'd ever endured, watching Jenks's children come home, one by one, each not knowing why they were drawn back or how to react. I could imagine what usually happened to the lonely souls that were cast into the world, hurting and alone. Watching them realize that they had one another to share their grief with was both painful and a joy. Jenks was the binding force, the gravity that had brought them back. Even the fairies, now released from their prison to find food, were subdued.

  "I'm sorry, Jenks," I whispered when the flames grew higher, warming my face but for the tear tracks. "I want you to stay in the desk."

  Taking a deep breath, his wings shifted, then stilled, lying like gossamer on his back. Saying nothing, he pulled his hand from mine and looked up at the faint noise the fairies were making as they hunted for spiders in the chill evening. Apparently their wings were why they destroyed a garden in their efforts to reach food, and they were amazed by their new dexterity, relishing being able to duck into small places. Better yet, they weren't damaging the garden.

  "No thank you," Jenks said, his voice low as he watched the trees. "I couldn't live in the stump anyway." His faint smile was because of parental pride. "The kids will be fine. They have huts all over the garden. I'll just sleep in my office."

  I couldn't bear thinking of him setting up residence in the flowerpot he'd turned into an office at the edge of the property. I was itching to push him into taking the potion that Ceri had made to turn small things big, but I daren't mention it yet. I shivered, and Jenks turned from the fire, his shoulders slumping. "You should get big again. It's too cold out here for you."

  "I'm fine," I said, clearly not.

  At Jenks's pointed look, Pierce took his coat off and draped it over me. I would have protested, but it was warm and smelled like him and the garden both. A puff of redwood rose as I tugged it close, and Jenks eyed the witch, the first glint of anything other than grief in his eyes.

  "You're smaller than I thought you'd be my size," he said dryly, attention going to his home as a weird keening rose. The flames had eaten through the ceiling, and the wind was being sucked in through the tunnels, feeding the fire. It sounded like the wood itself was moaning, and it gave me the creeps. "Maybe I should hit you now for when you make Rachel cry."

  "I'm not going to make her cry," Pierce said indignantly.

  Jenks's wings lifted slightly, turning red from the increased circulation and heat. "Sure you will. All her boyfriends do. Why would you be any different?"

  "Because I am," he offered.

  "Pierce is not my boyfriend." Frowning, I shifted from foot to foot and glanced at Ivy, a good six feet back from the stump as it burned. Her jaw was set and her feet were spread wide, hands on her hips and just about daring the coven to bother us. To anyone else, it'd look like she and Ceri were doing some garden burning, oblivious to the funeral and the fairies scattered in the garden like, well, fairies.

  "Maybe you should go, Pierce," I said to the sky. "It's almost sundown. You think getting away from Al is hard now, I imagine it's impossible when you're only four inches tall."

  Pierce glowered at me. "In all my born days, I've not seen a witch as skeerylike as you about being demon snagged. Al won't bother me. I'm watching you. He can't touch me, or Newt will have his—uh. Never mind," he stammered, face reddening.

  Grimacing, I turned back to the flames. I thought it odd that fire looked the same no matter what size I was. A hiss of fabric whispered behind me, and I spun to the silken thread coiling on the ground. It was Sidereal, and as he snaked down it, Jenks spit on the ground.

  Slightly more subtle, Pierce sidled closer to me. "I don't like them," the witch said, eying the much larger fairy. Pierce and I were pixy size, which put the fairies two inches taller than us. Or like two feet, in pixy terms.

  "Yeah, me neither," I said, remembering that poison dart Pierce had burned from me. But when Jenks loosened his sword, I felt a moment of worry. "Easy, Jenks," I murmured, not wanting a repeat of this morning. "Let's hear what he has to say."

  Sidereal found his feet, his expression pained as he shifted his shoulders and adjusted his raggedy, spiderweblike attire. He looked like he was smelling something rank, his lips curled back to show his vampirelike teeth. Honestly, with their pale complexions, long faces, and those teeth designed to eat insects, they were some of the scariest Inderlanders I'd ever met.

  "I'd thank you for letting us out of your prison, but it would show weakness," the fairy said, lisping around his long teeth.

  "I'd apologize for burning your wings, but it would do the same," I said, wishing Jenks would back off a little, but I could understand. They'd killed his wife.

  "You... I should have slit your throat!" Jenks shouted, his wings a blur as he rose a breath from the ground. "You killed my Matalina!"

  The fairy bared his teeth again, and I felt a moment of panic. "Jenks, it's my fault Matalina is dead," I said. "I'm the reason they attacked. I'm sorry! If I could do it again..." I closed my eyes in a long blink and tried not to cry. Damn it, it was all my fault.

  Immediately Jenks's face went ashen. "That's not what I meant."

  "But it's true," I said, not knowing what I could have done differently—except kill them. "They never would have attacked if it hadn't been for me."

  Pierce edged closer to Jenks, eying the tension between Sidereal and the pixy. "Jenks," he said cautiously. "Can I speak to you alone for a moment?"

  Jenks frowned, clearly knowing that Pierce was trying to separate them. His angular features were tight and his fingers moved to rest on the hilt of his sword. Sidereal started to hiss, and I pleaded with Jenks with my eyes. No more. Please, no more. Not today.

  Abruptly Jenks spun, stiffly walking away with his head down. Pierce draped an arm over his shoulders and went with him, his head close as he talked. Uneasy, I turned back to Sidereal, surprised again by how tall he was. Imagine a seven-foot, skinny vampire in white ragged robes and with two rows of sharp teeth, and you might have it.

  Sidereal was watching Jenks's home burn, confusion on his face. "I
never would have guessed he'd burn his house. Perhaps pixies can be civilized after all."

  Anger tickled deep in me. Jenks wasn't burning his house, he was burning his past.

  I cleared my throat, and Sidereal looked at me, his dark eyes reflecting the fire and turning red, like a demon's, but with round pupils. "Are we to be let go?" Sidereal asked when our eyes met. "Is it a slow death you give us? To die of starvation or the cold of winter?" His attention slid to Jenks and Pierce. It was likely they were listening in thanks to Pierce's eavesdropping spell.

  "Mmmm," I said, giving Pierce a look to make him cringe. "Do you want to sit down?"

  Sidereal sighed. "It must be bad," he said. "I never ask anyone to sit unless it is bad."

  A faint smile quirked my lips, and I moved to a pixy-size bench. Nearby was a loom and a vat where Matalina had soaked spider nests for the silk. It made me heartsick. The bench was too small for Sidereal, and after looking at it and indicating that he'd rather stand, I sat, bringing one cold foot up onto the bench to try to warm it. The soles of my feet were black, but I didn't care; there was no demon mark on them.

  "How are you feeling?" I asked, and a flash of pain crossed Sidereal as he winced. I belatedly realized he had tried to shift his wings, a fairy's version of a shrug.

  "Better now that my middle is full and I can pee without people watching," he said dryly.

  I nodded, my memory of Alcatraz surfacing for a moment. "If you were able to live in a secure space with room to grow, could you stay as you are?" I asked, and Sidereal stiffened.

  "I won't ask my people to exist at the mercy of pixies. You can make us whole. You owe us—"

  "Nothing," I interrupted calmly, setting one foot down to bring up the other. "I was defending my garden. You attacked, and I spared your life. I don't owe you anything but what my conscience demands, and you'll be happy with what I give you."

  He hissed at me with those long teeth, and I lowered my voice before Jenks stormed over and cut his tongue out. "I want to ask a favor," I said softly.

  Sidereal's hiss cut off, and his silver eyebrows rose. "A favor? Of your vanquished?"

  My insides quivered. God, I hoped he'd go for it. I really needed to make something good come out of this. "What do you think about her?" I said, pointing with my chin to Ceri, now standing next to Ivy and talking to three of Jenks's kids.

  Sidereal's expression became guarded. "She twisted the curse that made you small."

  I nodded. "She was also a third of the spell that would have killed you. She's mad at me because I stopped it. What do you think about that?"

  "I'd be angry, too, if a trusted warrior stayed my hand," he said cautiously. I could understand his dilemma. Ceri had tried to kill him, but she also had the skill to make them whole, and he knew it. "I've heard it said that elves were once valiant savages," he added.

  "She's my friend," I said, pulling my first foot up again to sit cross-legged, the pain in my knees utterly gone. "She's taken it upon herself to live among my enemies as a spy. She wants to go back, but she needs eyes with her. I want you to go with her. All of you."

  Sidereal looked at Ceri, then me. "Why would I help her?" he said, anger in his lisp.

  "I brought you to this, not her." Sidereal ran his hand forward from his chin outward, and guessing that was fairy for "say your piece," I took a breath. "She lives in Kalamack's gardens."

  His silver eyebrows rose again. He was interested, and I felt a stirring of hope. "There are no birds, no pixies, nothing," I said, and Sidereal glanced up into the tree, clearly wanting to share this with someone. "You could live there unnoticed, spying for her. For my benefit."

  Sidereal's wicked grin made me shiver. "That might be acceptable to my people," he lisped. "I want to leave someone here, though."

  Oh, really? Curious, I held my filthy foot, trying to warm it. "Why?"

  The fairy's shoulders slowly rose and fell as he tried a human shrug. "To better kill you if you plan treachery."

  I smiled, liking his honesty, and after a shocked moment, he smiled back. It was a fair answer. Behind him, Ceri was teaching Jenks's kids a song of loss to help them deal with their grief. The four-part harmony was enough to break your heart.

  "I won't be able to get Jenks to go for it, so pick someone who can hide well," I said, and he hissed. I looked at him in alarm until I realized he was laughing. "Talk to your people," I said as I stood and a whiff of pixy and witch came up from the coat. My hand came out, and he stared at it. "I have to get big," I explained. "This is likely the last time I'll see you my size. Big people clasp hands when they meet and part in goodwill."

  His hand came up, and we touched. "In goodwill," he said, brow pinched.

  Sidereal's fingers were too big around mine, and curiously rough. I felt like I was shaking hands with my dad. "And trust," I said and our hands parted.

  The fairy smiled, making me shiver. Stepping back, he tangled his foot in the silken line, but then he paused. "When my people part, they say gentle updrafts."

  "Gentle updrafts, Sidereal," I said softly. "I wish this hadn't happened, but maybe some good can come of it."

  Long face quirking in a terrifying smile, he glanced up into the tree. "Who's to say why the Goddess chooses." He plucked the silken strand, and with the signal, he was hoisted up.

  I didn't watch him go, instead turning to find Jenks. I was confident they'd go for it. All I'd have to do then was roll with the consequences of inviting dewinged, fanged fairies into Trent's backyard. God, they were savage looking. Served him right.

  "Jenks?" I called, wanting to say good-bye.

  Strands from my tattered braid flew everywhere when Jenks landed beside me. Clearly he'd been watching. His face was sallow, but anger still colored it.

  "I don't like them creeping around the garden like spiders," he said, his feet still not touching the ground as he looked into the trees. His face turned to me, and the anger shifted, almost to panic, when he saw my expression. "You're leaving."

  My heart gave a thump. "I'm just going to get big. I'm still here."

  The winds of his emotions shifted, and his feet touched the ground. His eyes began to glitter, and he wiped them, disgusted with himself. "Tink's titties, I can't stop leaking dust." He took a breath and exhaled. Me getting big was going to be hard. I wished he'd come with me.

  Heartache hit me again, and I gave him another hug, surprising him. His arms went around me, and I felt him hesitate when he didn't find wings at my back. The silken whisper of his brushed my fingers, and when he went to go away, I tightened my grip to linger a moment more. "I would have twisted a thousand curses to be with you today," I whispered.

  Slumping, Jenks let his forehead thump into me. "It hurts," he whispered, his hands falling to his sides. "All the time. Even when I try."

  Tears warmed my eyes, and I pulled back so I could look at him. "It will stop one day," I said as I gave his shoulders a squeeze. "Even without your trying, and then you'll feel guilty. After that, you'll wake up one morning, remember her, and smile."

  He nodded, gaze directed down. God, it hurt to see him with such heartache.

  "Are you sure you don't want to become big with me?" I asked again, and my hands fell from him as he wiped his eyes, shaking the glittering sparkles from himself.

  "I don't like being your size," he admitted. "Nothing smells right. And my kids need me."

  His kids needed him, I thought, feeling the fingers of relief steal into my soul. He felt needed. It was a start. Damn it, Matalina was really gone. "Come with me to the church?" I asked rather weepily. "Just to the door. Those pill bugs scare me."

  Saying nothing, Jenks stilled his wings and dropped to the ground. Side by side, we started through the shoulder-high grass to the looming presence of the church. The steeple stood out black and strong against the pale blue of the sunset sky, and I wondered how Bis would take it when he woke up. Must be a bitch to be out of it so deeply.

  "I don't know how you do this," I
said as we detoured around a rock that was probably only the size of my thumb.

  Jenks's wings shrugged. "It's easier when you can fly. They'll have a hard time of it."

  He was talking about the fairies. "Feeling sorry for them?" I asked.

  "Tink's panties, no!" he protested, but it was wispy and drained. Jenks turned at a thumping of feet, and I wasn't surprised to see Pierce jogging to catch up with us.

  "You're of a mind to untwist the curse?" he asked, face shadowed in the dusk and the fire behind him. His features were indistinct, and I shivered again. It was so cold.

  Pierce was on one side of me, Jenks on the other, and it was the safest I'd felt in a long time, though a snake could eat me. "I have to talk to Ceri about the fairies. I asked them to live with her," I said, and Pierce started, a happy grunt coming from him.

  "That's an all-fired good scheme," he said, and Jenks looked over my head at him.

  "Of course it's a good plan. Rache doesn't come up with stupid plans. She's always got an out. You just think she doesn't know what she's doing."

  I wish. I held the coat tighter, my feet numb with cold. I'd been thinking all day about how I might get the coven off my back. They seemed to think that Trent could control me, so if I could control Trent, I might have a chance. Not through the familiar bond, but good old-fashioned manipulation. The Pandora charm had reminded me of an old tradition, one I needed to start again.

  "Fairies in his garden," Jenks said, clearly liking the thought. "And wingless ones at that? Trent is going to be more unhappy than a skunk in a troll's garden."

  Seeing him nearly smile, something went to my heart and twisted. God, I hoped he found a new love. But where? In a few years, he'd be the oldest pixy to ever live. He wasn't going to find anyone with the emotional experience he now had. He'd need that. Deserved it.

  We reached the steps, and I looked up. It was only four steps, but they looked huge. Turning, I found Ivy watching. Ma-a-a-an, I did not want to be carried in like a baby.

  Jenks's arm slipped around from behind me, and I gasped when my toes lifted and I was airborne. In three seconds flat, my bare feet were stumbling on the faded wood of the stoop.