With an abrupt fizz, the black spell dissolutioned. Yellow, sulfuric smoke billowed up to be sucked into the vents. Cries of dismay and disgust rose with it. There was a small stampede as everyone surged for the doors. Even prepared, the stench of rotten eggs stung at my eyes. The spell had been a nasty one, tailored to me since both Denon and Francis had touched the envelope. It hadn’t come cheap.

Shaken, I came out from under my desk and glanced over the deserted floor. “Is it okay now?” I said around a cough. My earring shifted as Jenks nodded. “Thanks, Jenks.”

Stomach churning, I tossed my dripping check into the box and stalked past the empty cubicles. It looked like Denon was serious about his death threat. Absolutely swell.

Four

“Ra-a-a-achel-l-l-l,” sang a tiny, irritating voice. It cut clearly through the shifting gears and choking gurgle of the bus’s diesel engine. Jenks’s voice grated on my inner ear worse than chalk on a blackboard, and my hand trembled in the effort to not make a grab for him. I’d never touch him. The little twit was too fast.

“I’m not asleep,” I said before he could do it again. “I’m resting my eyes.”

“You’re going to rest your eyes right past your stop—Hot Stuff.” He nailed the nickname last night’s cabbie had given me hard, and I slit an eyelid.

“Don’t call me that.” The bus went around a corner, and my grip tightened on the box balanced on my lap. “I’ve got two more blocks,” I said through gritted teeth. I’d kicked the nausea, but the headache lingered. And I knew it was two blocks because of the sound of Little League practice in the park just down from my apartment. There’d be another after the sun went down for the nightwalkers.

There was a thrum of wings as Jenks dropped from my earring and into the box. “Sweet mother of Tink! Is that all they pay you?” he exclaimed.

My eyes flashed open. “Get out of my stuff!” I snatched my damp check and crammed it into a jacket pocket. Jenks made a mocking face, and I rubbed my thumb and finger together as if squishing something. He got the idea and moved his purple and yellow silk pantaloons out of my reach, settling on the top of the seat in front of me. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I asked. “Like helping your family move?”

Jenks gave a yelp of laughter. “Help them move? No freaking way.” His wings quivered. “Besides, I should sniff around your place and make sure everything is okay before you blow yourself up when you try to use the john.” He laughed hysterically, and several people looked at me. I shrugged as if to say, “Pixies.”

“Thanks,” I said sourly. A pixy bodyguard. Denon would laugh himself to death. I was indebted to Jenks for finding the spell on my check, but the I.S. hadn’t time to rig anything else. I figured I had a few days if he was really serious about this. More likely it was a “don’t let the spell kill you on the way out” kind of a thing.