The Witch with No Name

The chill of the coming September evening seeped into me, the cold as real and enduring as the damp grit of the earth pressed into my fingers as I lifted the last stone and replaced it in the low wall that separated the graveyard from the more mundane garden. It had been knocked out of place, and though Jenks had permanently taken up residence in the church walls, I knew it would be something he’d want fixed.

Straightening, I wiped my hands off on my jeans and looked at the red light of sunset shining against the familiar stones I mowed around every week. Well, not every week. The grass had gotten long, catching the leaves that had shifted color and dropped early. My weekends were a lot more interesting now that Trent had more free time, and the yard was beginning to show it.

“Sorry, Jenks,” I whispered as my gaze lifted to the church. I knew it bothered him that the graveyard was going fallow apart from a small space Jumoke and Izzyanna had claimed. The garden felt empty, and my mind wouldn’t stop circling over the thought of endings. It was why I was out here moping in the garden. That, and Trent had been underfoot ever since getting up from his noon nap, driving me to distraction as he went over that charm he’d brought.

The bright sparkle of pixy dust glowed at the far side of the garden. It was joined by a second, and the twin trails of dust wound around each other in breathtaking beauty until they both arrowed to me. It was Jumoke and Izzyanna, but my welcoming smile faded when two car doors slammed on the street. Landon. Apparently he’d brought a friend.

Izzyanna reached me first. The little pixy looked about ten, a late age for a pixy to become a bride, but her eyes were as dark as well-turned earth. It wasn’t the typical death sentence that Jumoke’s hair was, but it had obviously prevented a more traditional joining age. Her smile, though, was cheerful, and her eyes shone with an impish humor that balanced Jumoke’s stoic, introverted personality. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a slight swelling at her middle. It was unusual for pixies to be born in the fall, as they wouldn’t make it through the winter. Izzy’s children, though, wouldn’t have to hibernate, and a fall birth would give them a head start in the spring.

“Rachel, your guests are here,” the pixy said, her flush spilling into her dust.

“Guests, huh?” I said, glad she was starting to slow her speech down. The first week she’d been here, I hadn’t understood a word she said. “Who did Landon bring with him?”

Please not the I.S. Anyone but the I.S.

“It’s a woman,” Izzy said, hand protectively over her middle as she hovered backward before me as I headed for the church’s back door.

“Woman?” I said. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

Immediately she flew away with Jumoke, winding about themselves and talking so fast and high that it might as well be another language. It wouldn’t be long until the garden was again noisy with life, and that gave me more peace than I would’ve expected. I liked beginnings better than endings.

But it wasn’t meant to last, and I jerked to a stop when I recognized Ellasbeth’s haughty voice coming through the open kitchen window. Ellasbeth? What in hell was she doing here, and with Landon?

“She is a demon!” Ellasbeth exclaimed, her tone accusing. “Your father made her!”

“He did not make her. He enabled her to survive. There is a difference.” Trent’s voice was soft in anger, and I stayed where I was, my hand reaching for the back door faltering.

“Which might get you killed if it gets out,” she huffed, and I stiffened.

“Is that a threat?” Trent’s voice was hard. “Are you sure you want to do that? Again?”

Landon cleared his throat, but the words had been spoken. Crap on toast. Trent had a ruthless streak as wide as Jenks’s. He’d once stopped me from killing Nick, claiming he wanted one clean thing in his life—me. I’d since agreed that killing Nick for the hell of it would have left a mark I didn’t want, but Trent . . . He felt as if he was already lost and had no such compulsion against “doing things for the hell of it.”

And Ellasbeth had just called him out.

Why is she here? Why now? Wings clattering, Jenks landed on the doorknob, probably to keep me from going in. “Hey. Eavesdropping is my thing, not yours,” he said.

“Shhh,” I demanded, leaning to the open kitchen window.

“You are forcing our daughter to associate with a demon!” Ellasbeth exclaimed. “If you were anyone else, Lucy would be mine by the child abuse laws!”

My lips parted, and I felt my face go white.

“Lucy doesn’t care what Rachel is,” Trent said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s the world I want her to grow up into, and by God, Ellasbeth, if I find out you said anything to make Lucy or Ray question Rachel’s worth, I will never let you see either of them again.”