Ivy and Jenks glanced questioningly at each other—as if I were incapable of doing this on my own—and my blood pressure spiked.

“Dad!” came a high-pitched shriek from a desperate pixy. “Dad! Jariath and Jumoke glued my wings shut!”

Surprised, I felt my anger ping to nothing, and I turned to the window. Four streaks of gray raced out of the living room. There was a metallic crash from the kitchen, and I wondered what had hit the floor. Jenks stood frozen, his face a mix of fear of what would happen if Matalina found out and embarrassment that he had taken his eyes off them long enough for them to glue someone’s wings together.

Instantly he recovered and was airborne. Darting to the shelf, he tucked the hysterical child under his arm and took off after the others. In a swirl of silk and dismay, the entire clan whirled into motion. “Jariathjackjunisjumoke!” Jenks shouted from the kitchen, and then even that was gone, to leave only a shimmering sifting of dust and an echo of memory in our thoughts.

“Damn!” Ivy said to break the silence, then started to laugh quietly. Taking up the glue, she glanced at the label and tossed it to me. Water soluble, I thought, then dropped it into the toolbox. I smiled ruefully, and though I hoped Jenks got his kid’s wings unglued, I thought I had my summoning name right there. Jariathjackjunisjumoke. If I ever forgot it, all I’d have to do was ask any pixy kid who had gotten their backsides tanned for glueing someone’s wings shut.

“Oh, hey,” Ivy said after bending to the portable radio and clicking it on. “Have you heard Takata’s latest?”

“Yup.” Glad the pixies were gone, I grabbed more nails as the song in question belted out. “I can’t wait until the winter solstice. Think he’ll ask us to work security again?”

“God, I hope so.”

She turned it up to sing with the refrain—her voice soft but clear. When I finished hammering in the last nail in the row, Ivy maneuvered the final piece of paneling in place, and I tacked in the corners without pause. We worked well together. We always had.

The sound of pixies laughing in the garden assured me everything was fine. Relaxing, I breathed in the distinctive scent of raw wood and insulation. It was a bright day. The heat wave had finally snapped. Jenks was doing dad stuff. Ivy and I were getting back to normal. And she was singing. It couldn’t get much better than that.