My church was ahead, all lit up, with light streaming out of every window to run across the black grass. Even before we got close, I saw a pair of red eyes blink at me from the topmost nook and a wing shift in salute. Bis knew I was back, and I sent a silent thank-you to his kin who had kept me safe in the basilica last night. They hadn’t known me or my plight, but they’d saved me, and I owed the gracious, noble beings my life. I’d pay Bis’s rent myself just to keep him around.

The familiar taillights of my car were in the carport; someone had driven it home for me. Quen, maybe? Four streaks of greenish light swirled around the steeple and dropped down to Bis, and when one veered off to dart toward us, I pulled myself together and lowered the window completely. It had to be Jenks. Please, let it be Jenks.

My eyes warmed with unshed tears as his familiar wing-clatter battered against my ears and Jenks darted into the car.

“Rachel!” he gasped, looking good in his black thief outfit. “Tink’s contractual hell, you did it! You’re here! God almighty, you stink. I wish you were smaller; I’d slap you so hard you’d land in next week! I could have killed Trent when he shoved me back with that sample.”

I shook my head in confusion. “He didn’t shove you back. He said you took the curse and left us.”

The pitch of his wings hesitated, and he dropped to my fingers. “How, by my bloody daisies, would I do that? I didn’t do anything. I felt like my insides were being pulled through a snail’s back door, and I showed up in the basilica to scare the holy crap out of some poor woman.” He glanced at Glenn, the sparkles shifting from him turning to red. “Uh, hi, Glenn.”

My throat was tight, and my hand shook as he stood on it. I wished I was smaller, too. Trent’s reaction to Jenks’s absence had been too genuine to be fake, and why bother lying? Maybe pixies were like demons, in that they couldn’t stay on the wrong side of the lines when the sun rose? “Did Quen get the sample?” I asked, thinking of Trent’s request. “Is it safe?”