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hit me, misty with no moon—and the sifting silver dust of a pixy trailed like a moonbeam. It drifted to the sidewalk running past the Dumpster and vanishing around the corner.
    Breathless, I followed the tracing of dust, my heels sending shocks up my spine as I clip-tapped around the corner. A squeal of tires brought me to a halt, and I put a hand on the Dumpster and watched as a blue Ford truck drove away, tires smoking. Anger sparked, but it wasn’t until it hit a speed bump and the passenger door flew open that I was sure.
    N-n-n-n-nick.

Chapter Three
    T he kitchen was bright with electric light, loud with the shrieks of pixies, and with a snap, I flicked the coffeemaker on before turning back to my sandwich. It was a rather large room, newly remodeled with stainless-steel counters, two stoves, and my mom’s old fridge with the automatic ice dispenser right in the door. My spelling equipment hung over the center island counter, copper pots and ceramic spelling spoons making it look less like the industrial kitchen at the back of a church that it had started out as. Ivy’s thick country-kitchen table where she did most of her research was depressingly empty. She’d been gone this whole week, out in Flagstaff helping Glenn and Daryl get settled in their new digs.
    Standing at the counter in my evening gown, surrounded by cold cuts, condiments, and a half-empty two-liter bottle of pop, I clenched my teeth and wished the pixies would go away. They were playing war among the hanging copper pots, giving me a headache. Copper was one of the few metals that wouldn’t burn them, and they loved banging into it. Telling Jenks about the abducted Rosewood babies had been bad enough, but bringing Nick into it had left us both in a bad mood that his kids weren’t helping get rid of. Nick. If there was anyone who could irritate me by simply breathing, it was Nick.
    The self-proclaimed thief once professed that he’d loved me, and I think he had, inasmuch as he could love another person. He loved money and the security he thought that it represented more. I honestly believed that he felt justified for all the trouble he’d heaped upon me. I hadn’t trusted him for a long time, but when he had betrayed not just me but Trent in the same breath, I’d written him off. That he lured Jenks’s eldest son, Jax, into a life of crime and hardship just pissed me off.
    I’d not heard from Nick since he had spirited himself—and presumably Jax—out of Trent’s high-security lockup. Only a demon could have done it. I frankly didn’t give a damn if Nick had gotten himself indebted to a demon, but I did care about who might be holding his leash—and why he was again on this side of the ley lines stealing Rosewood infants.
    The big knife Ivy left out to scare magazine salesmen was too big to comfortably cut my sandwich, but I used it anyway, setting it down on the counter with a thud when an unpopped kernel of popcorn zinged over my head and clattered against the wall.
    “Jenks!” My shout sent a strand of hair drifting. “Your kids are driving me nuts!”
    From the sanctuary-turned-living-room I heard him yell, “Get the hell out of the kitchen!”
    Sure. That ought to do it. Frowning, I set the sandwich on a napkin, little drops of water from the lettuce making spots on it.
    I reached for a paper towel as Belle edged into the kitchen, riding Rex like an elephant. The fairy had her feet snuggled in behind Rex’s ears and she gave the cat a tap with the end of her bow when Rex threatened to sit down and spill her backward. Changing her mind, the orange cat twined about my ankles instead. Belle was an odd contrast of a pixy silk’s bright colors and a fairy’s naturally gaunt paleness. Never would I have imagined that Jenks would suffer to let a fairy live in his garden, but the small warrior woman had somehow become a part of the church—even if it had been her clan who had killed Jenks’s wife. That the fairy was now wingless