Jenks jerked back, hovering in surprise as I almost got him. “Nice,” he said, darting off to bother Ivy. “And how’s your new job going?” he drawled as he landed before her.

“Shut up, Jenks,” she warned.

“Job? You have another run?” I asked as she shook open the newsprint and hid behind it.

“Didn’t you know?” Jenks said merrily. “Edden arranged it with the judge to give Ivy three hundred hours of community service for taking out half his department. She’s been working at the hospital all this week.”

Eyes wide, I went to the picnic table. The corner of the paper was trembling. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked as I angled my legs past the bench and sat across from her.

“Maybe because they made her a candy striper,” Jenks said, and Nick and I exchanged dubious looks. “I saw her on her way to work yesterday and followed her. She has to wear a short pink and white striped skirt and a frilly blouse.” Jenks laughed, catching himself as he fell off my shoulder. “And white tights to cover her perky little ass. Looks real good on her bike.”

A vampire candy striper? I thought, trying to picture it.

A chortle slipped from Nick, quickly turned into a cough. Ivy’s knuckles as she gripped the paper turned white. Between the later hour and the relaxed atmosphere, I knew it was hard for her to keep from pulling an aura. This wasn’t helping.

“She’s at the Children’s Medical Center, singing and having tea parties,” Jenks gasped.

“Jenks,” Ivy whispered. The paper slowly dropped, and I forced my face into a careful impassivity at the black hazing her.

Wings a blur, Jenks grinned and opened his mouth. Ivy rolled the paper. Quicker than sound, she slammed it at him. The pixy darted up into the oak, laughing.

We all turned at the creak of the wooden gate by the front walk. “Hello-o-o-o. Am I late?” came Keasley’s voice.

“We’re back here!” I shouted as I spotted Keasley’s slow moving shadow making its way across the dew-wet grass past the silent trees and bushes.

“I brought the wine,” he said as soon as he was closer. “Red goes with meat, right?”

“Thanks, Keasley,” I said, taking the bottle from him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He smiled, extending the padded envelope tucked under his arm. “This is yours, too,” he said. “The delivery man didn’t want to leave it on the steps this afternoon, so I signed for it.”

“No!” Ivy shouted, reaching across the table to intercept it. Jenks, too, dropped from the oak, his wings making a harsh clattering. Looking annoyed, Ivy snatched it out of his grip.

Keasley gave her a dark look, then went to see how Nick was doing with the steaks.

“It’s been over a week,” I said, peeved as I wiped my hand free of the condensation from Keasley’s wine. “When are you going to let me open my own mail?”