Every Which Way But Dead (5 page)

I spun. “Ceri!” I exclaimed. “If you want some sugar, it's okay!”

She met my gaze, tears streaming down her pale face. “I haven't had anything to eat for—a thousand years,” she choked out.

I felt as if I had been punched in the gut. “Do you want some sugar?”

Still crying, she shook her head.

Ivy was waiting for me when I turned back around. “She can't stay here, Rachel,” the vampire said, her brow tight.

“She'll be fine,” I whispered, appalled that Ivy was ready to kick her out. “I'll bring my old cot down from the belfry and set it up in the living room. I've got some old T-shirts she can wear until I take her shopping.”

Jenks buzzed his wings for my attention. “Then what?” he said from the spigot.

I gestured my frustration. “I don't know. She's much better already. She wasn't talking half an hour ago. Look at her now.”

We all turned, finding Ceri sobbing quietly and drinking her tea in small reverent sips as the pixy girls hovered over her. Three were plating her long, fair hair and another was singing to her.

“Okay,” I said as we turned back. “Bad example.”

Jenks shook his head. “Rache, I really feel bad for her, but Ivy's right. She can't stay here. She needs professional help.”

“Really?” I said belligerently, feeling myself warm. “I haven't heard of any group therapy sessions for retired demon familiars, have you?”

“Rachel…” Ivy said.

A sudden shout from the pixy children brought Jenks up from the spigot. His eyes went past us to his kids as they descended upon the mouse, who had finally made a dash for the living room and found itself in its own personal hell. “Excuse me,” he said, flitting off to rescue it.

“No,” I said to Ivy. “I'm not going to dump her in some institution.”

“I'm not saying you should.” Ivy's pale face had started to color, and the ring of brown about her eyes was shrinking as my body heat rose and my blood grew warm, triggering her instincts. “But she can't stay here. The woman needs normal, and Rachel? We aren't it.”

I took a breath to protest, then let it out. Frowning, I glanced at Ceri. She was wiping her eyes, the hand curled about her mug shaking to make rings on the surface of her tea. My eyes went to the pixy children arguing over who was going to get to ride the mouse first. It was little Jessie, and the tiny pixy screamed in delight when the rodent darted out of the kitchen with her on its back. In a blur of gold sparkles, all but Jih followed. Maybe Ivy was right.

“What do you want me to do, Ivy?” I said, calming. “I'd ask my mom to take her in, but she's a step away from being in an institution herself.”

Jenks buzzed back. “What about Keasley?”

Surprised, I looked at Ivy.

“The old guy across the street?” Ivy said warily. “We don't know anything about him.”

Jenks landed on the sill beside Mr. Fish and put his hands on his hips. “He's old and on a fixed income. What more is there to know?”

As Ceri collected herself, I sifted the idea through my mind. I liked the old witch whose slow speech hid a sharp wit and high intelligence. He had stitched me up after Algaliarept had torn my neck. He had stitched up my will and confidence, too. The arthritic man was hiding something, and I didn't think his real name was Keasley any more than I believed his story that he had more medical equipment than a small emergency room because he didn't like doctors. But I trusted him.

“He doesn't like the law and he knows how to keep his mouth shut,” I said, thinking it was perfect. Eyes pinched, I looked at Ceri talking to Jih in soft tones. Ivy's eyes were doubtful, and peeved, I pushed into motion. “I'm calling him,” I added as I motioned to Ceri that I would be right back and went into the living room for the phone.

“
C
eri,” Jenks said as I flipped the switch and got a pot of coffee going. “If tea makes you cry, you gotta try french fries. Come here, I'll show you how to use the microwave.”

Keasley was on his way over. It might take him a while since he was racked by arthritis so badly that even most pain charms wouldn't touch it. I felt bad for pulling him out into the snow, but it would have been even more rude to descend upon his house.

With an intentness I didn't understand, Jenks perched himself on Ceri's shoulder and talked her through the task of microwaving frozen french fries. She bent to watch the little carton spin, my pink slippers on her feet looking overly large and awkward. Pixy girls swirled around her in a whirl of pastel silk and chatter, mostly ignored. The unending noise had driven Ivy into the living room, where she was currently hiding with her earphones on.

My head came up when the air pressure shifted. “'Ello?” came a strong raspy voice from the front of the church. “Rachel? The pixies let me in. Where are you ladies?”

I glanced at Ceri, recognizing her sudden apprehension. “It's Keasley, a neighbor,” I said. “He's going to check you over. Make sure you're healthy.”

“I'm fine,” she said pensively.

Thinking this might be harder than I thought, I padded in my sock feet into the hallway to talk to him before he met Ceri. “Hi, Keasley, we're back here.”

His hunched, wizened figure limped down the hallway, eclipsing the light. More pixy children escorted him, wreathing him in circles of sifting pixy dust. Keasley had a brown paper grocery bag in his hand, and he brought the cold scent of snow in with him, mixing pleasantly with a witch's characteristic redwood scent. “Rachel,” he said, his brown eyes squinting up at me as he got closer. “How's my favorite redhead?”

“I'm good,” I said, giving him a quick hug and thinking that after outwitting Algaliarept, good was an understatement. His overalls were worn and smelling of soap. I thought of him as the neighborhood's wise-old-man and a substitute grandfather figure all in one, and I didn't mind that he had a past he wasn't willing to share. He was a good person; that's all I needed to know.

“Come on in. I have someone I want you to meet,” I said, and he slowed with a wary caution. “She needs your help,” I said softly.

His thick lips pressed together, and the brown wrinkles of his face deepened. Keasley took a slow breath, his arthritic hands making the grocery bag crackle. He nodded, showing me a thinning spot in his tightly curled, graying hair. Blowing in relief, I led him into the kitchen, holding myself back so I could see his reaction to Ceri.

The old witch rocked to a halt as he stared. But upon seeing the delicate woman standing in pink fuzzy slippers beside the microwave in her elegant ball gown with a folder of steaming fries, I could understand why.

“I don't need a physician,” Ceri said.

Jenks rose from her shoulder. “Hi, Keasley. You gonna check Ceri out?”

Keasley nodded, limping as he went to pull out a chair. He gestured for Ceri to sit, then carefully lowered himself into the adjacent seat. Wheezing, he set his bag between his feet, opening it to pull out a blood pressure cuff. “I'm not a doctor,” he said. “My name is Keasley.”

Not sitting, Ceri looked at me, then him. “I'm Ceri,” she said, just above a whisper.

“Well, Ceri, it's nice to meet you.” Setting the cuff on the table, he extended his arthritic-swollen hand. Looking unsure, Ceri awkwardly put her hand in his. Keasley shook it, smiling to show his coffee-stained teeth. The old man gestured to the chair, and Ceri arranged herself in it, reluctantly setting her fries down and warily eyeing the cuff.

“Rachel wants me to look you over,” he said while he pulled more doctor stuff out.

Ceri glanced at me, sighing as she nodded in surrender.

The coffee had finished, and as Keasley took her temperature, checked her reflexes, her blood pressure, and made her say “Ahhhh,” I took a cup into the living room for Ivy. She was sitting sideways in her cushy chair with her earphones on, head on one arm, feet draped over the other. Her eyes were shut, but she reached out without looking, taking the cup the instant I set it down. “Thank you,” she mouthed, and still not having seen her eyes, I walked out. Sometimes Ivy gave me the creeps.

“Coffee, Keasley?” I asked as I returned.

The old man peered at the thermometer and turned it off. “Yes, thank you.” He smiled at Ceri. “You're fine.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ceri said. She had been eating her fries while Keasley worked, and she looked glumly at the bottom of the carton.

Immediately Jenks was with her. “More?” he prompted. “Try some ketchup on them.”

Suddenly Jenks's zeal to get her to eat french fries became very clear. It wasn't the fries he was interested in, it was the ketchup. “Jenks,” I said tiredly as I took Keasley his coffee and leaned against the center island counter. “She's over a thousand years old. Even humans ate tomatoes then.” I hesitated. “They did have tomatoes back then, right?”

The hum of Jenks's wings audibly dropped. “Crap,” he muttered, then brightened. “Go ahead,” he said to Ceri. “You try working the nuker this time without my help.”

“Nuker?” she questioned, carefully wiping her hands on a napkin as she stood.

“Yeah. Don't they have microwaves in the ever-after?”

She shook her head, sending the tips of her fair hair floating. “No. I prepared Al's food with ley line magic. This is…old.”

Keasley jerked, almost spilling his coffee. His eyes tracked Ceri's grace as she went to the freezer and, with Jenks's encouragement, pulled out a box of fries. She meticulously punched the buttons, her lip caught between her teeth. I thought it odd that the woman was over a thousand years old but thought the microwave was primitive.

“The ever-after?” Keasley said softly, and my attention returned to him.

I held my coffee before me with both hands, warming my fingers. “How is she?”

He shifted his shoulders. “She's healthy enough. Maybe a little underweight. Mentally she's been abused. I can't tell what or how. She needs help.”

I took a deep breath, looking down into my cup. “I've got a big favor to ask.”

Keasley straightened. “No,” he said as he put his bag on his lap and started putting things in it. “I don't know who—or even what—she is.”

“I stole her from the demon whose work you stitched up last fall,” I said, touching my neck. “She was its—I mean, his—familiar. I'll pay for her room and board.”

“That isn't it,” he protested. Bag in hand, his tired brown eyes went worried. “I don't know anything about her, Rachel. I can't risk taking her in. Don't ask me to do this.”

I leaned over the space between us, almost angry. “She has been in the ever-after the last millennium. I don't think she's out to kill you,” I accused, and his leathery features shifted to a startled alarm. “All she needs,” I said, flustered that I had found one of his fears, “is a normal setting where she can regain her personality. And a witch, a vampire, and a pixy living in a church running down bad guys isn't normal.”

Jenks looked at us from Ceri's shoulder as the woman watched her fries warm. The pixy's face was serious; he could hear the conversation as clearly as if he was standing on the table. Ceri asked him a soft question, and he turned away, answering her cheerfully. He had chased all but Jih out of the kitchen, and it was blessedly quiet.

“Please, Keasley?” I whispered.

Jih's ethereal voice rose in song, and Ceri's face lit up. She joined in, her voice clear as the pixy's, managing only three notes before she started to cry. I stared as a cloud of pixies rolled into the kitchen, almost smothering her. From the living room came an irate shout as Ivy complained that the pixies were interfering with the stereo reception again.

Jenks yelled at his kids and all but Jih flitted out. Together they consoled Ceri, Jih soft and soothing, Jenks somewhat awkwardly. Keasley slumped, and I knew he'd do it. “Okay,” he said. “I'll try it for a few days, but if it doesn't work, she's coming back.”

“Fair enough,” I said, feeling a huge weight slip off my chest.

Ceri looked up, her eyes still wet. “You didn't ask me my opinion.”

My eyes widened and my face flamed. Her hearing was as good as Ivy's. “Um…” I stammered. “I'm sorry, Ceri. It's not that I don't want you to stay here—”

Heart-shaped face solemn, she nodded. “I am a stumbling stone in a fortress of soldiers,” she interrupted. “I'd be honored to stay with the retired warrior and ease his hurts.”

Retired warrior?
I thought, wondering what she saw in Keasley that I didn't. In the corner came a high-pitched argument between Jenks and his eldest daughter. The young pixy was wringing the hem of her pale green dress, her tiny feet showing as she pleaded with him.

“Now wait a moment,” Keasley said, curling the top of his paper bag down. “I can take care of myself. I don't need anyone ‘easing my hurts.' ”

Ceri smiled. My slippers on her feet made a hush across the linoleum as she came to kneel before him. “Ceri,” I protested, right along with Keasley, but the young woman batted our hands away, the suddenly sharp look in her green eyes brooking no interference.

“Get up,” Keasley said gruffly as he sat before her. “I know you were a demon's familiar and this might be how he made you act, but—”

“Be still, Keasley,” Ceri said, a faint glow of ever-after red blurring her pale hands. “I want to go with you, but only if you let me return your kindness.” She smiled up at him, her green eyes losing their focus. “It will give me a feeling of self-worth I truly need.”

My breath caught as I felt her tap the ley line out back. “Keasley?” I said, my voice high.

His brown eyes went wide and he froze where he sat as Ceri reached out and placed her hands upon the knees of his work-faded overalls. I watched his face go slack, the wrinkles sliding into themselves to make him look older. He took a deep breath, stiffening.

Kneeling before him, Ceri shivered. Her hands dropped from him. “Ceri,” Keasley said, his raspy voice cracking. He touched his knees. “It's gone,” he whispered, his tired eyes going watery. “Oh, dear child,” he said, standing to help her rise. “I haven't been without pain for so long. Thank you.”

Ceri smiled, tears leaking out as she nodded. “Neither have I. This helps.”

I turned away, my throat tight. “I have some T-shirts you can wear until I take you shopping,” I said. “Just keep my slippers. They'll get you across the street at least.”

Keasley took her arm in one hand, his bag in the other. “I'll take her shopping tomorrow,” he said as he headed for the hallway. “I haven't felt good enough to go to the mall in three years. It will do me good to get out.” He turned to me, his old, wrinkled face transformed. “I'll send the bill to you, though. I can tell everyone she is my sister's niece. From Sweden.”

I laughed, finding it was very close to a cry. This was working out better than I had hoped, and I couldn't stop smiling.

Jenks made a sharp noise, and his daughter slowly drooped to land upon the microwave. “All right, I'll ask!” he shouted, and she rose three inches, her face hopeful and her hands clasped before her. “If it's okay with your mother and it's okay with Keasley, it's okay with me,” Jenks said, his wings a dismal blue.

Jih rose and fell in obvious nervousness as Jenks hovered before Keasley. “Um, do you have any plants at your house that Jih might tend?” he asked, looking terribly embarrassed. Brushing his blond hair from his eyes, he made a wry face. “She wants to go with Ceri, but I'm not letting her leave unless she can be productive.”

My lips parted. I sent my eyes to Ceri, seeing by her held breath that she clearly wanted the company. “I've got a pot of basil,” Keasley said reluctantly. “If she wants to stay when the weather breaks, she can work the garden, such as it is.”

Jih squealed, pixy dust falling from her in a gold shimmer that turned to white.

“Ask your mother!” Jenks said, looking upset as the excited pixy girl zipped out. He landed on my shoulder, wings drooping. I thought I could smell autumn. Before I could ask Jenks, a shrill tide of pink and green flowed into the kitchen. Appalled, I wondered if there was a pixy in the church that wasn't in that four-foot circle surrounding Ceri.

Keasley's wrinkled face was filled with a stoic acceptance as he unrolled the bag of supplies and Jih dropped inside to make the trip safe from the cold. Above the crinkled top of the bag, the pixies all cried good-bye and waved.

Eyes rolling, Keasley handed the bag to Ceri. “Pixies,” I heard him mutter. Taking Ceri's elbow, he nodded to me and headed into the hall, his pace faster and more upright than I'd ever seen it. “I have a second bedroom,” he said. “Do you sleep at night or during the day?”

“Both,” she said softly. “Is that all right?”

He grinned to show his coffee-stained teeth. “A napper, eh? Good. I won't feel so old when I drop off.”

I felt happy as I watched them head to the sanctuary. This was going to be good in so many ways. “What's the matter, Jenks?” I said as he remained on my shoulder while the rest of his family accompanied Ceri and Keasley to the front of the church.

He sniffed. “I thought Jax would be the first one to leave to start his own garden.”

My breath slipped from me in understanding. “I'm sorry, Jenks. She'll be fine.”

“I know, I know.” His wings shifted into motion, sending the scent of fallen leaves over me. “One less pixy in the church,” he said softly. “It's a good thing. But no one told me it was going to hurt.”