A faint whine came from a street lamp. My dad would have called it a thief light. Just enough illumination to let a thief know what he was doing. The sound of our feet was loud, and Nick reached for my door. “I’ll get it,” he said gallantly, and I smirked as he fought with the handle, grunting as he gave it a final yank and the latch released.

Nick had been working his new job for only three months but somehow managed to get a beat-up blue Ford truck already. I liked it. It was big and ugly, which was why he had gotten it so cheap. He said it was the only thing they had on the lot that didn’t scrunch his legs up to his chin. The clear coat was peeling and the tailgate was rusting out, but it was transportation.

I lurched up and in, putting my feet squarely on the offensive floor mat from the previous owner as Nick slammed the door shut. The truck shook, but it was the only way to be sure the door wouldn’t fly open when we went across railroad tracks.

As I waited for Nick to come around the back, a flickering shadow over the hood caught my eye. I leaned forward, squinting. Something almost smacked the window, and I jumped.

“Jenks!” I exclaimed, recognizing him. The glass between us did nothing to hide his agitation. His wings were a gossamer blur, shimmering in the street lamp as he frowned. A floppy, wide-brimmed red hat looking gray in the uncertain light was on his head, and his hands were on his hips. My guilty thoughts flashed to Ivy, and I rolled the window down, pushing it along when it got stuck halfway. He darted inside and took off his hat.

“When the hell are you two going to get a speaker phone?” he snarled. “I belong to this crappy firm as much as you, and I can’t use the phone!”

He had come from the church? I didn’t know he could move that fast.

“What did you do to Ivy?” he continued as Nick silently got in and shut his door. “I spend the afternoon with Glenda the Good trying to calm him down after you yelled at his dad, then I come home to find Ivy having hysterics on the bathroom floor.”

“Is she all right?” I asked, then looked at Nick. “Get me home.”

Nick started the truck, jerking back as Jenks landed on the gearshift. “She’s fine—as much as she ever is,” Jenks said, his anger shifting to worry. “Don’t go back yet.”

“Get off that,” I said, flicking a hand under him.