I had gotten myself turned around and back over the Ohio River and into the Hollows, and still Jenks hadn’t said anything. The starstruck pixy had parked himself on his usual spot atop the rearview mirror, watching the encroaching snow clouds turn the bright afternoon dark and depressive. I didn’t think it was the cold that had turned his wings blue, as I had the heater cranked. It was embarrassment.

“Jenks?” I questioned, and his wings blurred to nothing.

“Don’t say anything,” he muttered, barely audible.

“Jenks, it wasn’t that bad.”

He turned, a look of self-disgust on him. “I forgot my name, Rache.”

I couldn’t help my smile. “I won’t tell anyone.”

The pink returned to his wings. “Really?” he asked, and I nodded. It didn’t take a genius to realize it was important to the ego-driven pixy to be self-assured and in control. I was sure that’s where his bad mouth and short temper came from.

“Don’t tell Ivy,” I said, “but the first time I met him, I fawned all over him. He could have taken advantage of me; used me like a tissue and thrown me away. He didn’t. He made me feel interesting and important, even though I was working peon runs at the I.S. at the time. He’s cool, you know? A real person. I bet he didn’t think twice about you forgetting your name.”

Jenks sighed, his entire body moving as he exhaled. “You missed your turn.”

I shook my head, breaking at a red light behind an obnoxious SUV I couldn’t see around. The salt-stained bumper sticker read, SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS ARE HUMANS. YUM, and I smiled. Only in the Hollows. “I want to see if Nick is awake yet, as long as we’re out,” I explained. My eyes went to Jenks. “You’ll be all right for a little longer?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m okay, but you’re making a mistake.”

The light changed, and I almost stalled my car. We lurched through the intersection, slipping on the slush when I gunned it. “We talked today at the zoo,” I said, feeling warm inside. “I think we’re going to be okay. And I want to show him the backstage passes.”

His wings made an audible hum. “You sure, Rachel? I mean, that was a big scare when you pulled that ley line through him. Maybe you shouldn’t push it. Give him some space.”

“I’ve given him three months,” I muttered, not caring that the guy in the car behind me thought I was flirting with him as my eyes were on the rearview mirror. “Any more space and he’d be on the moon. I’m not going to rearrange his furniture, just show him the passes.”