Jenks laughed. I would have been embarrassed by my word choices, but his kids had heard worse from their dad. And in fact, the pixies ranging about me had taken up my crooning, singing insults heavy on the earthy vulgarity.

Disheartened, I let my arm fall and sent my eyes past the hanging paper bats to the stained-glass windows, the colors muted from the late hour. Marshal had called to tell me that he was still stuck in interview hell and wouldn’t be able to have coffee. That had been hours ago. The sun was down now, and I couldn’t safely leave the church lest I become demon bait.

My jaw tightened. Maybe someone was trying to tell me it was too soon. I’m sorry, Kisten. I wish you were here, but you’re not.

The buzzing of my vibrating phone cut through the pixy chatter, and they all flew up and away when I stretched to reach my bag on the nearby couch. As I lay almost flat, my fingers brushed my bag and I yanked it down. I sat up with an exhalation, flipping my hair back and digging out my phone. The number was unfamiliar. Marshal’s landline, maybe?

“Hi,” I said casually, seeing as it was my cell and not the business phone. Realizing I was covered in pixy dust, I slapped at my jeans to get it off.

“Rachel,” came Marshal’s apologetic voice, and the pixies clustered by the desk hushed themselves so they could hear. Rex stretched and padded over to them, now that they weren’t sitting on me, and I frowned at her. Stupid cat.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” Marshal continued to fill the silence. “I don’t know why they’re taking so long, but it looks like I’m not going to get out of here for a few hours more.”

“You’re still there?” I asked, glancing at the dark stained-glass windows and thinking that what time his interviews ended didn’t matter anymore.

“It’s down to me and one other guy,” Marshal rushed to say. “They want to make a decision today, so I’m stuck trying to impress the hell out of these people over pasta and sparkling water.”

Resigned to another evening alone with the pixies, I picked at the edge of my chipped nail and wondered if I had a file in my bag. Rex was on her back, the pixies hovering just out of her playful, lethal reach. “No problem. We’ll do it some other day,” I said as I rummaged for the file, disappointed even as I was sort of relieved.

“I must have met with six people already,” he complained. “Honest, they told me it was going to be a two-hour interview when I came down here.”