Jenks and Quen came in as I turned from the window, Ray on Quen’s hip, looking sweet with her dark hair and in her tartan kilt and hat. Ceri’s death came rushing back, and suddenly tears blurred my vision. Damn it, I hadn’t wanted to cry, but seeing him there with his motherless child and knowing that the girl would grow up without Ceri’s love was almost too much to take.

“Don’t,” Quen said raggedly as Jenks hovered uncertainly at his shoulder, and I forced my eyes wide, sniffing the tears back. Quen’s own eyes glistened, the limitless pain in his soul showing. “Please don’t,” he said stoically. “I’ll grieve when the war is over. I can’t afford it now.”

I nodded, head down as I shoved my heartache away. War. That was about right. Quen looked capable in his short leather jacket and cap, like a bad boy grown up with a ’79 Harley parked in a three-car garage and a huge mortgage. The child on his hip somehow worked perfectly. Grief shimmered under his tight jaw and haunted eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said, feeling helpless as he came into the kitchen and set Ray on the center island counter, his hand never leaving her, steadying her as she sat upright and silently watched the pixies who had come in with them. “None of this was your fault.”

“It feels like it is.”

But it wasn’t, and I leaned against the sink, aching at the sounds of Ellasbeth reuniting with her child. It hurt knowing Ceri never would. The pixies in the rack were taking turns dusting different colors, and Ray was riveted. Both Quen and Jenks began to look uncomfortable as Ellasbeth’s noises became louder.

Quen steadied Ray, and remembering Jenks’s cryptic comment when he had come in, I said, “So, what’s up, Jenks? More trouble?”

Sitting on the faucet, Jenks frowned. “Jax is around.” The draft from the window pushed his depressed copper dust from him like a wayward aura. “The kids heard his wings not five minutes ago. And where Jax is, Nick probably follows.”

“Ku’Sox is trying to get around our agreement,” I said as I went to get a paper towel from the roll we kept on the table, a must when living with pixies. Ku’Sox had Trent, body and soul. He was also uncursed, which meant he didn’t need Nick anymore. That made the slimy man dangerous because he would be trying to prove to Ku’Sox that he was still worth something.

The rip of the paper towel was loud as I listened to Ellasbeth say, “Mama, not Abba. Mama, Lucy. Mama.” I couldn’t help my frown. Ceri was her mama, not Ellasbeth.