“How wonderful to meet you,” she said as she let him go and turned to Jenks.

The pixy had put himself at the ceiling. “Hi, Mrs. Morgan. You look nice tonight,” he said warily, dipping slightly.

“Thank you.” She smiled, her few wrinkles deepening. The house smelled like spaghetti sauce, and I wondered if I should have warned Mom that Nick was human. “Well, come all the way in. Can you stay for lunch? I’m making spaghetti. No problem to make a little more.”

I couldn’t help my sigh as she led the way to the kitchen. Slowly I started to relax. Mom seemed to be watching her mouth more than usual. We entered the kitchen, bright from the overhead light, and I breathed easier. It looked normal—human normal. My mom didn’t do much spelling anymore, and only the dissolution vat of saltwater by the fridge and the copper spell pot on the stove gave anything away. She had been in high school during the Turn, and her generation was very discreet. “We just came to pick up my ley line stuff,” I said, knowing my idea to get it and run was a lost cause since the copper pot was full of boiling water for pasta.

“It’s no trouble,” she said as she added a sheaf of spaghetti, ran her eyes down Nick, then added another. “It’s after seven. You’re hungry, aren’t you, Nick?”

“Yes, Mrs. Morgan,” he said, despite my pleading look.

She turned from the stove, content. “And you, Jenks. I don’t have much in the yard, but you’re welcome to what you can find. Or I can mix up some sugar water if you’d like.”

Jenks brightened. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, flitting close enough to send the wisps of her red hair waving. “I’ll check the yard. Would you mind if I gathered the pollen from your Rose of Sharon? It will do my youngest a world of good this late in the season.”

My mother beamed. “Of course. Help yourself. Those damned fairies have just about killed everything looking for spiders.” Her eyebrows arched, and I froze in a moment of panic. She had a thought. No telling what it was.

“Might you happen to have any children who would be interested in a late summer job?” she asked, and my breath escaped me in a relieved sound.

Jenks landed on her offered hand, wings glowing a satisfied pink. “Yes, ma’am. My son, Jax, would be delighted to work your yard. He and my two eldest daughters would be enough to keep the fairies out. I’ll send them tomorrow before sunup if you like. By the time you have your first cup of coffee, there won’t be a fairy in sight.”

“Marvelous!” my mother exclaimed. “Those damn bastards have been in my yard all summer. Drove my wrens away.”

Nick started at the foul word coming from such a mild-looking lady, and I shrugged.

Jenks flew an arching path from the back door to me in an unspoken request for me to open it. “If you don’t mind,” he said, hovering by the knob, “I’ll just nip out and take a look. I don’t want them running into anything unexpected. He’s just a boy, and I want to be sure he knows what to watch out for.”