The Undead Pool

“Jenks, go open the front door,” I said as I shoved the window open all the way. “We need to air the place out.”

“Got it,” he said, then darted off to work the series of pulleys Ivy had come up with for him to open the heavy oak door.

Ellasbeth still hovered in the doorway, a new understanding in her. “I’m sorry.”

Ivy’s expression was empty. “It wasn’t your fault. He attacked her in her sleep.”

“Still, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

It was the first honest thing I thought I’d ever heard from Ellasbeth, and I almost liked her as I leaned against the counter and just . . . breathed. “You did good, Nina. It won’t be so hard next time. I promise.”

Nina managed a smile. “Thank you.”

There were tears in Ivy’s eyes as she helped Nina to the table, tears and love for both of us. The love for me in the past, and the love for Nina in the future. And somehow, as the four of us women slowly picked up the threads of our lives and began to awkwardly weave them anew, it didn’t hurt anymore.

Eight

Ray was a comfortable armful of quiet as she sat on my lap in the kitchen, her eyes on the book that Lucy had brought in from the toy box I had for the rare occasions that Trent brought them to the church. Even the distraction of Jenks’s kids couldn’t take her attention from the picture book. Still, she didn’t reach for it when Lucy ran to me, collapsing on my knees in excitement and a bid for my attention.

“Sasha!” the little girl said brightly as she shoved the book at me and ran out.

“That’s the name of her pony at the Withons’ estate,” Quen said, and I scrambled to catch it before it slid to the floor. Only now did Ray reach for it, and I shifted her so she could hold and turn the pages herself. I didn’t think Ray’s reluctance to reach for the book earlier was because she was afraid of her sister, but simply knowing that her distractible sibling would keep it if Lucy knew Ray wanted it too.

“I didn’t think horses were that important to the Withons,” I said, and the man turned his attention from his daughter to the hallway. Ellasbeth and Trent were having a chat in the back living room, one that was probably long overdue, and their voices were a soft murmur.

“The pony was my idea,” he said, his motions smooth as he moved deeper into the kitchen. Quen wasn’t small, but a person tended not to notice him unless he wanted to be noticed. Both he and Ray had dark hair, uncommon to elves. It might be a remnant from the elves’ recently dropped tradition of hybridizing with humans, but I doubted it. Quen was one of the most elven elves I knew, clever, powerful in his magic, and graceful beyond reason.

“I didn’t want their horsemanship to suffer in the time spent away from home,” he added as he clasped his hands behind his back, stoic as he waited for Ellasbeth to say what she wanted so he could, hopefully, take her back to the airport.

I smiled as Lucy ran back in, blond hair flying. “Belle!” the excited toddler shouted, dropping a sparkly fairy doll on Ray’s book and running out, pixy girls in tow. Ray promptly threw the toy after her and returned to her book. The tension from the back room was ebbing, but I was still glad that Ivy and Nina had excused themselves shortly after Trent’s arrival. Belle, too, had retired to the garden. The wingless fairy was a brilliant strategist, but she was pretty much helpless against the grasping toddlers, especially when Rex, Jenks’s cat, had dumped her to hide under my bed at the first little-girl “Here kitty, kitty.”

“Jenks, stay in here,” I said when the pixy rose from the windowsill to follow her out.

“I can’t hear crap from here, Rache,” he muttered as he landed on my shoulder. Ray looked up when his dust fell on her fingers. Slowly she turned her palm up, mesmerized at the spot of sunshine she could touch.

“That’s the idea.” I’d watched Ellasbeth turn green when the girls had greeted me with enthusiasm, then white when they’d toddled off to the toy box, clearly knowing where it was.

Quen smiled thinly, finally lowering himself to sit on the edge of a chair beside the fridge. “Any problems while I was gone?” he asked, looking at Ivy’s new monitor in envy.

“Apart from the recent magic misfires and no functioning undead vampire in the Cincinnati area?” I helped Ray turn the page, and she sang out, “Thank you,” charming me with her little-girl voice. “No,” I said softer, the scent of her hair tweaking my maternal instincts. “Mr. Ray and Mrs. Sarong have started campaigning for their picks for the next mayoral battle, and there’s been some noise about the parks Trent made in the abandoned warehouse district being better used for commercial, meaning gambling. Couple of death threats with low credibility, but I forwarded that to you.”

Quen squinted as he noticed the scratches Bis had made on the ceiling. “Thank you.”

His attention fell to Lucy as she ran in and dropped a train book on Ray’s lap. “No!” Ray demanded, shoving it off, but Lucy was gone.