Trent’s window rolled down, and leaning out, he asked, “Is there a problem?”

Concerned, I said, “Jenks says we were attacked two days ago.”

Quen paused with his hand on the door, exchanging a look with Trent. Was the coven still at it? They’d pardoned me, and even though they were mad at Trent for having released Ku’Sox, they weren’t going to do anything about it lest Trent retaliate with something worse.

“I was eating Tink-blasted cotton candy while fairies were attacking my children!” Jenks said, dripping a red dust.

A faint smile touched Quen’s face, and giving me a nod, he got in the car. Trent, though, was still leaning out the window. “Perhaps Quen should look over your security before we go,” he said, then ducked back into the car.

Quen met my startled gaze, sitting behind the wheel but with the door still open. “Sa’han?”

Jenks was a bright ball of irritation. “My security is fine,” he snarled.

But Trent was talking to Quen over the seat. “It wouldn’t hurt to look around,” I heard him say faintly. “I’ll come in in a minute. Lucy needs attention.”

He wants to come in? But Quen was getting out of the car, his body language not confused but perhaps…indulgent, and it wouldn’t hurt to have Quen look under my bed. “Okay. Sure. I don’t care,” I said, and Jenks rose up, appalled.

“Rache!” he shrilled.

“We’ve been gone for almost two weeks,” I said as I started up the steps again. “What can it hurt?” But what I was thinking was, What does Trent want?

Quen’s door thumped shut, and I waited on the threshold for him, yanking the door shut behind us and dropping the suitcase in the dark foyer. Ivy was casually standing at the pool table sorting almost two weeks’ worth of mail, and I relaxed. Something felt like it was missing, though. Pierce.

“We are all fine,” Jenks was saying as I breathed in the scent of Quen, seeming all the stronger for the foyer being dark. “We don’t need your help.”

Quen flashed a bright smile. “Mr. Kalamack would like me to inspect the grounds.” His gaze shifted to Ivy as if for permission. Wise man. “Is that all right with you, ladies?”

Ivy didn’t even look up from the mail. “Knock yourself out. Stay out of my room.”

Quen turned to me next, and when Jenks buzzed off in annoyance, I asked him, “What is he really looking for?”

Again, he smiled, but it was softer this time. “An excuse, I think.”

Great. Just friggin’ great.

Quen brushed past me, a shredded wisp of cinnamon and wine lingering in his wake. “I’m telling you, we’re fine!” came Jenks’s irate shout as he followed him into the hallway, and then the pixy darted back, dripping a bright silver dust. “Rachel!” he whined at me, his long hair getting in his eyes. There wasn’t a single pixy kid in the church, not unusual if their dad was on the warpath.