Sullen, he pushed back into the cushions. Jax was staring across the room at Belle. She’d come in and was standing beside Rex at the archway, her bow strung and her expression severe. Rex had been Jax’s cat, and I’d give a lot to know what Jax was thinking, both about the cat and that Belle, a fairy, was living under his father’s roof.

“Rache, this is dumb,” Jenks said, wings going full tilt as he landed on my knee. “Call the I.S. to come pick him up so we can get on with what we have to do.”

Standing before Nick, Ivy shrugged, which told me she agreed with Jenks. I thought for a moment, my gaze lingering on Jax, miserable as he huddled under a blanket his mother had made. “I’m not happy about this either,” I said, “but the I.S. can’t hold him if Ku’Sox can pop him out.”

“I told you—” Nick started.

“Shut up!” I snapped, and Jenks dusted a heavy black to pool on the floor. “I used to listen to you, but you lied and I walked.” Leaning forward, I caught his eyes and held them. “Tell you what. I’ll keep Ku’Sox off you if you stay in the church. That’s it.”

“Rache . . .” Jenks complained, and I held up a hand. Like I believed for one second that he would stay in the church?

“Set one toe out of it, and I don’t care anymore.”

Nick exhaled loudly, clearly wanting more. He wasn’t getting it.

“I have stuff to do.” Heart pounding, I looked at the clock on the cable box. “Excuse me.”

Nick’s expression became alarmed at the prospect of my leaving him with Ivy, and sure enough, Ivy smiled to show her teeth, her motions slow and sultry as she almost crawled over the couch to sit beside him. “Can I leave you two alone for five minutes?” I asked as I looked down at her, not altogether kidding, and she smiled even wider.

“I want to talk to you,” Jenks said, rising up with an aggressive wing clatter.

“Sure,” I said, the memory of Jax’s tattered wings swimming up. Behind me, I heard Nick tell Ivy to fuck off. Either she would kill him or she wouldn’t. To be honest, I was more concerned about what I was going to wear tomorrow than Nick’s survival. “How are you doing, Jenks?” I said as went into my room, despairing over finding anything in my closet.

Wings clattering, Jenks landed on my dresser, his gaze on the wall as if he could look through it to see his son. “Peachy damn keen,” he grumbled.