The Undead Pool

Jenks eyed me in distrust as a kid in a black convertible wove in and out of traffic, working his way up car length by car length. “Uh-huh,” he said. “Trent’s girls are coming back tomorrow, right?”

The pixy knew when I lied. Apparently my aura shifted. “Yes,” I said, trying for flippant. “I can use the time off. Trent is more social than a fourteen-year-old living-vampire girl.” And he could text just as fast, I’d found.

Jenks’s wings blurred. “No money for three months . . .”

My grip on the wheel tightened, and I took the on-ramp for the bridge. “I’ve got your rent, pixy. Relax.”

“Tink’s little pink rosebuds!” Jenks suddenly exploded, his wings blurring to invisibility. “Why don’t you just have sex with the man?”

“Jenks!” I exclaimed, then hit the brakes and swerved when the kid in the convertible cut off the truck ahead of me. My tires popped gravel as I swung on the shoulder and back to the road again, but I was more embarrassed about what he’d said than mad at the jerk in the car. “It’s not like that.”

“Yeah?” There was a curious silver tint to his dust. “Watching you and Trent is like watching two kids who don’t know how their lips work yet. You like him.”

“What’s not to like?” I grumbled, appreciating the thinner traffic on the bridge.

“Yeah, but you thought you hated him last year. That means you really like him.”

My hands were clenched, and I forced them to relax on the wheel. “Is there a point to this other than you talking about sex?”

He swung his feet to thump on the rearview mirror. “No. That’s about it.”

“The man is engaged,” I said, frustrated that my life was so transparent.

“No, he isn’t.”

“Well, he will be,” I shot back as the bridge girders made new shadows and Jenks’s dust glowed like a sunbeam. Will be again.

Jenks snorted. “Yeah, he lives in Cincy, and she lives in Seattle. If he liked her, he’d let her move in with him.”

“They’ve got a kid,” I said firmly. “Their marriage will solidify the East and West Coast elven clans. That’s what Trent wants. What everyone wants. It’s going to happen, and I’m not going to interfere.”

“Ha!” he barked. “I knew you liked him. Besides, you don’t plan love, it just happens.”

“Love!” Three cars ahead, horns blew and brake lights flashed. I slowed, anticipating trouble. “It’s not love.”

“Lust, then,” Jenks said, seeming to think that was better than love anyway. “Why else would you explode that ball? A little overly protective, yes?”

My elbow wedged itself against the window, and I dropped my head into my hand. Traffic had stopped, and I inched forward into a spot of sun. I was not in love. Or lust. And neither was Trent, despite that I’m-not-drunk kiss. He’d been alone and vulnerable, and so had I. But I couldn’t help but wonder if all the engagements this last month were normal or if he was trying to get out of the house. With me. Stop it, Rachel.

A horn blew behind me, and I moved forward a car length. Trent had his entire life before him, planned out better than one of Ivy’s runs. Ellasbeth and their daughter, Lucy, fit in there. Ray, too, though the little girl didn’t share a drop of blood with him. Trent wanted more, but he couldn’t be two things at once. I had tried, and it had almost killed me.

My gaze slid to my shoulder bag and the golf ball tucked inside. “The explosion was probably the same thing affecting the 71 corridor,” I said. “Not because I overreacted.”

Jenks sniffed. “I like my idea better.”

Traffic was almost back up to speed, and I shifted lanes to get off at the exit just over the bridge. We passed under a girder, and a sheet of tingles passed over me. Surprised, I looked up at the sound of wings, not seeing anything. Why are my fingertips tingling?

“Dude!” Jenks exclaimed. “Did you feel that? Crap on toast, Rache! Your aura just went white again!”

“What?” I took a breath, then my attention jerked forward at the screech of tires. I slammed on the brakes. Both I and the car ahead of me jerked to the left. Before us, a car dove to the right. Tires squealed behind me, but somehow we all stopped, shaken but not a scratch.

“I bet it was that kid,” I said, my adrenaline shifting to anger. But then I paled, eyes widening at the huge bubble of ever-after rising up over the cars.

“Jenks!” I shouted, and he turned, darting into the air in alarm. The bubble was huge, coated in silver-edged black sparkles with red smears of energy darting over it. I’d never seen a bubble grow that slowly, and it was headed right for us.

“Go!” I shouted, reaching for my seat belt and scrambling to get out of the car. No one else was moving, and as Jenks darted out, I reached for a line to make a protection circle. But I was over water. There was no way.