Pierce smacked his clothes to get the dust off. "Don't you want to smell right?" I asked him, and he raised his eyebrows.

"It's a right smart amount she put down," he said. "Why do we have to smell anyway?"

I didn't know. I really didn't care. Melancholy, I looked out over the distance, feeling the breeze, tasting it almost. It was too quiet for my garden, so long holding the singing or giggling of pixies by sun or starlight. They were either gone or hiding. Pierce gave a small start as I slipped my fingers into his. So I needed his moral support. Eyes forward, I stepped out, feet silent in the manicured dirt as I crossed the opening and watched the door get bigger. My pace didn't falter until I reached it.

My knees went wobbly as I stared at it. Jenks was behind it, mourning his wife. Of all the demons I'd faced, of all the wicked witches, wild Weres, and evil elves, this was the most daunting thing I'd ever done. Jenks's life was on the line. I couldn't fail.

"Should we knock?" Pierce asked as we looked at it.

"Absolutely." Gathering my courage, I knocked, knowing by the flat sound that it wouldn't carry into the stump any distance. Pierce cleared his throat and pulled himself straight, as if we were calling on neighbors, and after a moment, he glanced at me.

"Can you tap a line?" he asked, his blue eyes showing a hint of trepidation. "I'm a mite skerry to try. I'm of a mind it might explode in me, being so small."

"I've been connected since we did the spell. It's okay."

"Oh." He hesitated, and I felt a tingle between us. "I think we should just go in," he said, his eyes on the wooden door.

Nodding, I pushed the door open.

Jenks's front door opened to a black tunnel slightly larger than the door itself. We had to step down to enter, and the unusually deep drop jarred all the way up my spine. It was dark but for the light coming in behind us, and there was no echo. The air smelled of ginger, and my clenched jaw eased. There was a tweak on my awareness, and a soft glow grew at Pierce's feet. It was that mundane ley-line light charm he knew, and I gingerly picked it up, able to handle the globe where Pierce couldn't. If he tried, his aura would probably break the charm. The ball of ever-after was cool to the touch, and slippery, as if it was going to ooze right through my fingers.

Pierce took his hat off and shut the door behind us. Wonder crossed him, and I followed his gaze to the ceiling and walls. Pixy dust coated everything, catching the light and throwing it back to make it brighter yet. Grooves had been carved to collect the pixy dust, and they glowed the brightest to show fantastic patterns of swirls and spirals. It was singularly beautiful, and I wondered that it had all been made in less than two years. Jenks's family was amazing.

"Jenks?" I called softly, remembering we hadn't been invited in.

Pierce's hand landed on my shoulder, heavy with warning. "Wait."

I turned in protest, only to watch as a green-tinted bubble of ever-after snapped into existence around us. "Holy crap!" I shouted, pressing into him when a wasp as big as my entire upper body landed on the circle, stinger probing the bubble for a way in. "What in hell is that!"

Pierce put an arm around me so I wouldn't hit his circle. "That's a rip-roaring fine guard dog, that's what that is," he said, and the scent of redwood hit me hard. "I don't think we would smell right even if we swam in pixy dust," Pierce muttered, and I silently agreed, thinking Pierce smelled fine just the way he was.

I wasn't afraid of wasps, but the thing was the size of a goose, crawling over the bubble with its wings at an angry tilt. "I'm going to fry it on the count of three," I said, thinking that enough raw ever-after energy ought to stun it at least. Why I didn't balk at killing a wasp was simple—wasps weren't intelligent. "One, two, three!"

The bubble dropped, and I pulled on the line, throwing a ball of smutty gold at the insect. Fear gave it more force than usual, and my eyes widened as the energy swarmed over it and the wasp curled up and fell at our feet. Pierce grunted his approval, and I breathed a sigh of relief seeing it on the floor where Pierce could simply stab it... and then it exploded.

Shrieking, I ducked as hot splatters hit the walls to make an ugly sound. An awful stench rolled over us, and I straightened, horrified. Pierce's ball of light rolled until it found the wall and stopped. Embarrassed, I turned to Pierce only to laugh. He was standing ramrod straight with splatters of wasp on his beard and chest.

"Pierce, I'm so sorry!" I said, reaching to wipe it away, his lips pressed tight.

"You have no control," he said stiffly, clearly peeved. "None at all."

Sobering, I looked for something to clean it off him, having to settle for the hem of my beautiful borrowed dress. Gathering it up, I wiped his face, jumping when Pierce flung his hand out behind me. Twin flairs of light burst into existence, the shadows shifting as the light fell. Turning, I saw two more wasps curled up on the floor, one moving until Pierce pushed past me and stabbed its head with his "Arkansas toothpick." Bug goo squished out, and I cringed.

I watched the ceiling as I went to pick up his light. "Do you think there are more?"

Pierce came close. His eyes held concern as he looked me over, using his thumb to wipe a stray bit of goo off my cheekbone. "I've heard that wasp larvae were raised as sentries," he said, "but I never thought I'd see it up close and personal like. I suggest we move deeper."

"Yeah, but do you think there are more?" I insisted.

Pierce said nothing as he put a hand on my shoulder and guided me past the fallen insects. He wasn't worried, but I kept looking over my shoulder as we went down the gentle incline. The glow from the walls grew brighter, and I wasn't surprised when the confines of the hall opened up to a large open space the size of say, the sanctuary at the basilica.

"Well if that doesn't cap the climax," Pierce breathed, and I held his light high when it doubled in intensity. Even then, the glow barely touched the distant walls. It looked like we were half underground, half in the stump, with black stones the size of my hand embedded in the earth to hold it back. At the center of the room was the glow of a banked fire. Under our bare feet was the feeling of plastic, and I looked to find it was poker chips, arranged in a pleasant pattern of colors. "Jenks?" I whispered, hearing only my voice echo back.

"I'll tend the fire. See if you can find a door," Pierce said, and I gingerly headed toward the wall, Pierce's light held high. Slowly the light from the fire grew as Pierce built it up using wood from a rabbit Pez dispenser.

Evidence of tasks dropped and left undone were everywhere—life interrupted. Bits and pieces of stuff belonging to both Ivy and me were among the organized clutter, surprising me at first, then irritating me. In one corner was a small calculator I thought I had lost, the slate and chalk arrangement beside it making me think it was an impromptu schoolroom. The ticking was the watch I'd misplaced last year, the band being used for who knew what since it was being held up now with a bit of lace I recognized as being from Ivy's black panties. Not that I paid attention to that sort of thing, but I did fold clothes occasionally.

Closer to the fire, the poker-chip floor was covered with a soft gray fur. Mouse, I decided by its softness under my bare feet. A barrette that I'd lost behind my dresser and never bothered to retrieve was being used to hold a magnetic calendar with WERE INSURANCE on it. Postage stamps decorated the walls at odd heights. Some of them had frames built of garden materials. Pictures, I decided, seeing that most of them were of outside shots.