"Yikes," came Jenks's soft voice. "When she wants to be alone, she doesn't leave any bones about it, does she?"

There was a high-pitched answer, and I pushed the book off my lap and lurched past the curtain and into the front. "Jenks," I called, tapping the glass before I stuck the key in the ignition and rolled the window down. "What's up?"

The tall pixy turned from unlocking Kisten's Corvette. Smiling, he squinted in the haze and crossed the parking lot, two amulets about his neck and a red baseball cap on his head. One was for scent, the other, an over-the-counter charm, turned his hair black. It wasn't much, but it would do. His feet edged the black haze of ever-after between us, and I dropped the circle, my pulse temporally quickening at the surge of power before I disconnected from the line.

"I need some more toothbrushes," he said, coming closer. "And maybe some fudge."

Knealing on the seat, I put my crossed arms on the windowsill. Toothbrushes? He had six open on the bathroom counter. "You know, you can reuse those," I said, and he shuddered.

"No thanks. Besides, I want to take Jax on a lesson on low-temperature runs so Ivy can smack crap for brains a good one if he wants to keep antagonizing her."

"Hi, Ms. Morgan," Jax chimed out, Jenks's hat lifting to show Jax peeping from under it.

A smile curved over me. "Hi, Jax. Keep your dad's back, okay?"

"You bet."

Pride crinkled Jenks's eyes. "Jax, do a quick reconnaissance of the area. Watch your temps. And be careful. I heard blue jays earlier."

"Okay." Jax wiggled out from under his dad's hat and zipped off in a clatter of wings.

I exhaled, a mix of melancholy and pride over Jax learning a new skill. "Will you stop calling Nick crap for brains?" I asked, tired of playing referee. "You used to like him."

Jenks made a face. "He turned my son into a thief and broke my partner's heart. Why should I give him a draft of consideration?"

Surprised, my eyebrows rose. I hadn't known my falling out with Nick bothered him.

"Don't get all girly on me," Jenks said gruffly. "I may only be eighteen, but I've been married for ten years. You turned into a slobbering blob, and I don't want to see it again. It's pathetic, and it makes me want to pix you." His face grew worried. "I've seen how you get around dangerous men, and you always fall for the underdog. Nick is both. I mean, he's dangerous and he's been hurt, and hurt bad," Jenks rushed on, mistaking my sick look for fear. Crap, was I that transparent? "He's going to hurt you again if you let him—even if he doesn't mean to."

Disconcerted, I brushed the dampness of fog from my arm. "Don't worry about it. Why would I go back? I love Kisten."

Jenks smiled, but his brow was furrowed. "Then why did we come out here?"

I fixed my gaze on the curtained windows of the motel. "He saved my life. I might have loved him. And I can't pretend my past didn't happen. Can you?"

There wasn't much Jenks could say to that. "You need anything while I'm out?" he said, clearly changing the subject.

My lips curved upward. "Yeah. Can you get one of those disposable cameras?"

Jenks blinked, then smiled. "Sure. I'd love a shot of you and me together in front of the bridge." Still smiling, he whistled for Jenks and turned away.

The reminder of why we were there intruded, and my stomach clenched. "Uh, Jenks. I could use something else too." His eyes went expectant, and I licked my lips nervously. You're a bad girl, Rachel. "I need something made from bone," I said.

Jenks's eyebrows rose. "Bone?"

I nodded. "About fist-sized? Don't spend a lot of money on it. I'm thinking I might be able to move the curse from the statue to something else. It needs to have been alive at some point, and I don't think wood is animate enough."

Feet scuffing, Jenks nodded. "You got it," he said, turning to the dry, desperate-sounding clatter of pixy wings. It was Jax, and the exhausted pixy almost fell into his dad's hand.

"Tink's dia—uh, diapers," Jax exclaimed, changing his oath mid-phrase. "It's cold out here. My wings don't even work. Jeez, Dad, are you sure it's okay for me to be out here?"

"You're fine." Taking off his hat, Jenks raised his hand and Jax made the jump to his head. Jenks carefully replaced his cap. "It takes practice to know how long your wings will work in low temps and get yourself to a heat source in time. That's what we're doing this for."

"Yeah, but it's cold!" Jax complained, his voice muffled.

Jenks was smiling when he met my gaze. "This is fun," he said, sounding surprised. "Maybe I should go into business training pixy backups."

I chuckled, then turned solemn. It would make his last months more enjoyable if he could teach what he could no longer do. I knew Jenks's thoughts were near mine when the emotion left his face. "Jenks's school for pixy pirates," I quipped, and he smiled, but it faded fast.

"Thanks, Jenks," I said as he made motions to return to the car. "I really appreciate this."

"No prob, Rache." He touched his hat. "Finding stuff is what pixies do fourth best."

I snorted, pulling myself in and already knowing what Jenks thought pixies did first best. And it wasn't saving my ass like he told everyone.

Rolling up the window against the chill, I returned to my cot, wondering if Kisten had a second blanket in there somewhere. The rumble of the Corvette rose, fading to the ambient sound of passing traffic when Jenks drove off. "Bone," I mumbled, writing the word beside the Latin. My breath caught, then slipped from me in chagrin when the pencil faded. That's right. Ceri had used a charm to fix the print to the page. Next time I talked to her, I'd ask.

"Why?" I mumbled, feeling my mood sour. It wasn't as if I was going to make a practice of using these curses. Right? Eyes closing, I let a sound slip from me as I pushed my fingers into my forehead. I am a white witch. This is a one-shot deal. Too much ability leads to confusion over what's right and wrong, and obviously I was confused enough already. Was I a coward or a fool? God help me, I was going to give myself a headache.

The squeak of the motel door opening brought my head up. There wasn't an accompanying sound of a car starting, and my face blanked when a tap came on the back door of the van. A shadow moved past the dirt-smeared window. "Ray-ray?"

I should have reset my circle, I thought sourly, forcing my shoulders down and trying to decide what to do for an entire five seconds: an eternity for me.

"Rachel, I'm sorry. I brought you some hot chocolate."

His voice was apologetic, and I exhaled. Closing my "big book of demon curses," I went to the back door, thinking I was making a mistake when I opened it.

Nick stood there in his borrowed gray sweats, looking like he was ready for a run in the park: tall, lean, and battered. A survivor. He had a foam cup of instant hot chocolate in his hands and a pleading expression in his eyes. His hair was swept back and his cheeks were clean-shaven. I could smell the shampoo from his shower, and I lowered my eyes at the memory of how silky his hair was when it was toweled dry and still damp, a whisper over my fingertips.

Jenks's warning resounded in me, and I stifled my first feeling of sympathy. Yes, he had been hurt. Yes, he had the potential to be dangerous. But damn it, I didn't have to let it get to me.

"Can I come in?" he asked after I'd silently stared at him for a good while. "I don't want to sit alone in that motel room knowing a vamp is sleeping behind a flimsy door."

My pulse quickened. "You're the one who woke her up," I said, hand on my hip.

He smiled, to turn himself charmingly helpless. He wasn't. He knew I knew he wasn't. "I got tired of being called crap for brains. I didn't know everyone would leave."

"So you pushed her buttons, relying on Jenks and me to buffer the retaliation?" I asked.