Looking tired, Jenks sat cross-legged beside my abandoned coffee mug. “I don’t like it either, but he’s her master vampire—the one that protects her.”

“And screws with her mind.” Bothered, I rubbed at a nail, smoothing out a nick before the polish finished setting.

“You think you’re strong enough to protect her? Against an undead master vampire?” Jenks asked.

I thought back to my conversation with Keasley in the garden. “No,” I whispered, glancing at the clock. Where the devil is Glenn?

Jenks’s wings blurred, and he rose four inches, still sitting cross-legged. “Then let her get herself out. She’ll be all right.”

“Damn it, Jenks!” He started to laugh, which ticked me off. “There is nothing funny about this,” I said, and, smirking, Jenks landed on the table.

“I had this same conversation with Ivy about you up in Mackinaw. She’ll be all right.”

My eyes went to the clock. “If she isn’t, I’ll kill him.”

“No you won’t,” Jenks said, and I flicked my gaze to him. No, I wouldn’t. Piscary kept Ivy safe from predation. When she came home, I’d make her a cup of cocoa, listen to her cry, and this time, damn it, I’d hold her and tell her it was going to be okay. Vampire culture sucks.

My eyes blurred, and I jumped when the front bell rang. “There he is,” I said, chair scraping as I stood and yanked the waistband of my jeans up.

Jenks’s wings were a subdued hum as I grabbed my phone and dropped it into my bag. My thoughts went to Piscary, and I added my splat gun. Then I thought about Trent, and I dropped the focus in there, too. Checking to see if I’d marred my nails, I slid the jar into my arms and picked up the tomato. “Ready, Jenks?” I said with a forced cheerfulness.

“Yup,” he said, then shouted, “Jhan!”

The serious-minded pixy came in so fast I was sure he’d been on the gutters outside the window. “Watch your mother,” Jenks said. “You know how to use my phone?”

“Yes, Dad,” the eight-year-old said, and Jenks put a hand on his shoulder.

“Call Ms. Morgan if you need to reach me. Don’t look for me, use the phone. Got it?”

“Yes, Da-a-a-a-ad.” This time it carried a heavy exasperation, and I smiled, though I was dying inside. Jhan was assuming more responsibility to take his dad’s place in the next few years. Pixy life spans suck.

“Jenks,” I said as I shifted the jar of sauce to my hip, “it’s noon. If you want to sit this one out, that’s fine. I know you nap this time of day.”

“I’m fine, Rachel,” he said darkly. “Let’s go.”