by Kim Harrison
“I’m Sylvan, a dryad,” Vi said. “The nymph imprisoned me unfairly. Punishing me for my attentions to her sisters. She believes she’s a goddess. Completely touched, but the demons didn’t stop her. Why do you hesitate? Break my statue. Let me out!”
Jenks blinked, surprised. A dryad? In a city? Between him and the statue, Bis dropped to the grass, clearly amazed as well. “You’re supposed to live in trees,” Jenks said. “What are you doing in a statue?”
Twitching in pain, the child looked at Bis then back to Jenks, assessing almost. “I told you, the nymph put me there. She’s touched in the head. But I survived. I learned to live on the energy right from a ley line instead of that filtered from a living tree. Though every moment I exist as if burning in Hell itself, I can survive in dead stone. I beg you, break my statue. Free me!” Vi’s eyes went to her father with no recognition. “I promise I’ll leave you pixies in peace. Forgive me for the agony upon the child. I cannot help it.”
Still, Jenks hesitated as he looked at Vi, the hope in her flushed face too deep for her years. Something wasn’t right.
Jenks pinned his wings when the wind gusted. He looked up, the scent of honey and gold tickling a memory he’d never had. Vi’s eyes widened. “Too late!” she shrieked. Darting to Vincet, she kicked his shin. The pixy yelped, dropping his sword to grasp his leg. Even as Jenks flung himself into the air, Vi snatched the sword up, running, not flying, to the statue. Her nightclothes furled behind her like a ghost, and, screaming, she swung the blade at the stone. With a ping, the fairy steel broke. Using the broken hilt like a dagger, she beat at it, trying to chip the stone away.
“Jenks!” Bis shouted, and Jenks turned, bewildered but not alarmed. Until he saw what the gargoyle was pointing at.
A robed, barefoot woman stood in the middle of the sidewalk, heart-shaped face aghast as she stared at the hush of cars at the edge of the park. Lungs heaving as if in pain, she put a hand to her chest and looked at the distant buildings, their lights twinkling brighter than the stars. A sword was in her grip, and she appeared exactly like the second statue, even down to the braid her black ringlets were arranged in, shining in the light as if oiled. And her aura was shiny?
“It’s her!” Bis shouted, bringing the woman’s gaze to them.
“Who dares defile my sacred grove to free Sylvan?” she intoned, robe furling as she gestured to Bis. “Is it you?” Her arm dropped, and she peered at him in the dark. “What are you?” she asked. “A new demon dog? Come into the light.”
“Let me go!” shrieked Vi, struggling now in Vincet’s arms. “Let me go!”
Jenks darted to help Vincet, and still she fought them, her skin red and hot to the touch. At his nod, Bis awkwardly went to stand in the middle of the sidewalk between them.
“I’m a gargoyle, not a dog,” he said, fidgeting like the teenager he was. “Who are you?”
The woman spun a slow circle, dismissing him. “Someone tried to free Sylvan, woke me from my rest. Did you see who it was, honorable . . . ah . . . gargoyle?”
“It was me,” Jenks said, grunting when Vi’s foot escaped his grip and kicked him. “What’s it to you?” Turning to Vincet, he screwed his face up. “I gotta go talk to her. Can you hold her alone?”
Vincet nodded, and together they got the girl facedown on the manicured grass as she howled. Looking miserable, the young father sat on her, wincing as her screams grew violent.
Satisfied, Jenks rose up into the air to the woman’s level, frowning when he saw her amusement in her steely eyes. They were silver, like the moon, and just as warm. “A pixy?” she said, laughing. “Leave my sacred grove, little sprite. Return to it, and you will die. Your children will die. I will hunt you down and destroy the very earth you ever walked upon. Go.”
Fists on his hips, Jenks sifted a red dust that made it all the way to the sidewalk. “Sprite? Did you just call me a sprite, Little Miss Shiny Aura? What did you do? Eat a roll of tinfoil?”
Claws scraping, Bis edged closer, his white-tufted ears pinned to his head in submission. “Jenks,” he hissed, not taking his eyes off the woman. “We should go. She’s doing something weird with the line.”
But Jenks flitted almost to her nose. She smelled like violet sunshine, and the gold pin holding her robe shut sparkled. “Did you just threaten me, little prissy pants?” he shot out.
Her nostrils flared, and her hand gripped her sword tighter. “You mock me? I am Daryl, and you are warned!”
Jenks snickered, his own hand on the butt of his sword. “I think if you think I’m going to fly away and let you keep some helpless dryad forever imprisoned, burning in a ley line, you got your toga too tight, babe.”
Mouth open, she put a hand to her chest. “You . . . you defy me?” she said, wheezing slightly, clearly not doing well. “Do you know who I am!”
Glancing at Bis, who was silently looking up at him, pleading with him to be nice, he said, “You look asthmatic, is what you look like. Forget your inhaler at the temple?”
“I am Daryl!” she stated, then coughed. “Goddess of the woods. I’ve learned of steel and leather to defend my sisters, and you are . . . warned!” Turning away, she struggled to breathe.
“See, she’s touched!” Vi yelled from under Vincet. Struggling, the little girl got an arm free. “Go crying to your demon, Daryl! You’re a concubine! A minor nymph with delusions of goddesshood!”
Jenks’s eyes widened as the woman’s coughing suddenly ceased. Head turning to the base of Sylvan’s statue, she straightened. A murderous look was on her, and Jenks felt a moment of panic. “Get out of that pixy, Sylvan,” she intoned. “Now!”
Straining, the little girl gestured rudely. “Ay gamisou!” she yelled defiantly.
Jenks had no idea what she had said, but he filed it away for future use when the woman staggered back, clearly appalled.
“Jenks!” Bis whispered from under him. “Let’s go!”
“I promised to help!” Jenks said, fascinated at the color the woman was turning in her outrage. “And I’m not going to leave Sylvan stuck in a statue by some nymph!”
Daryl’s attention flicked to Jenks and Bis, then back to Vi. “I will not allow you to hurt another, Sylvan!” she said loudly, gesturing.
Bis reached up, wings spread as he half jumped to snag Jenks from the air and pull him down. Bis’s warmth hit him as Jenks cowered in his hand while a wave of nothing he could see passed over them, pressing against his wings and driving the blood out. His wings collapsed for an instant, then rebounded on his next heartbeat.
Vi screamed, the sound reaching deep into Jenks and driving him to wiggle from Bis’s fingers. His head poked free, and he saw Vincet spring into the air with his daughter. Her dust had taken on a deathly shade of black, bursting into a white-hot glow as it fell from her. Again Vi’s scream tore the silence of the night as Daryl clenched her fist, her face savage with bloodlust.
“She’s killing her!” Vincet shouted, terrified. “Jenks, she’s killing my daughter!”
“Get her away from the line!” the gargoyle cried out as he stood his ground. “I can see the energy flowing into her. You have to get Vi out of the line!”
Jenks’s lips parted. Cursing himself as a fool, he darted to Vincet, snatching the pain-racked child to him and throwing himself straight up. The line. The entire garden was in the line between the statues! Get her far enough away, and the connection would break!
Vi fought him as his ears popped painfully, thumping her fists into his chest and squirming until she suddenly went terrifyingly limp. “Vi!” Jenks shouted, scrambling to catch her as she threatened to slip from him, a good forty feet up. Her skin was hot, and her face was pale in the glow of his own dust. But a profound peace was on her face, and as he held her far above the dark city, fear struck him deep. The silver tint to her aura was gone.
“Vi,” he whispered, jiggling her as the night cocooned them. “Vi, wake up. It’s over.” Oh God. Had he failed her? Was she dying? Killed by
his own shortsightedness? Another man’s child dead in his arms because of his failing?
Vi’s lips parted, sucking in air like it was water. Her eyes flashed open, green and full of terror in the light of the moon.
“Tink save you, you’re okay,” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears. She was herself. Sylvan was no longer in her thoughts. That terror of a woman no longer burned her.
With a frightened whimper, Vi threw herself at him, her thin arms cold as they wrapped around his neck. “Don’t let him hurt me,” she begged as she cried, her little body shaking. “Please, don’t let the statue hurt me anymore!”
A clear, healthy glow enveloped them as Jenks held her close, his hand against the back of her head as he whispered it was over, that she was okay, and he was taking her to her papa. He promised her that the statue wouldn’t hurt her again and that Uncle Jenks would take care of everything. Foolish promises, but he couldn’t stop himself.
Uncle Jenks, he thought, wondering why the term had fallen into his mind but feeling it was right. But below them, Daryl waited on the dark sidewalk. And Jenks—was pissed.
Jaw clenching, he descended more slowly than he wanted in order to give her younger ears a chance to adjust. Vincet met them halfway down, his wings clattering and dusting in fear until he saw Vi’s tears. With a cry of joy, the grateful man took his daughter. Vi’s sobs only strengthened his resolve.
“Get your family to ground and stay there,” Jenks said grimly.
“I can help,” Vincet said, even as Vi clung desperately to him.
“I know you can. I’ll take the field, you take the hearth,” he said, falling back on the battle practices of driving off invading fairies. One always stayed in earth to defend the hearth—to the end if it came to that.
Vincet looked as if he was going to protest, then probably remembering his sword was broken at the base of the statue, he nodded, darting away with Vi to vanish beneath the dogwood.
Free, and anger burning in his wings, Jenks drew his sword and dropped to where Bis was clinging to Sylvan’s statue, hissing at Daryl as she stood in a spot of light with a satisfied smile.
“What the hell is wrong with you!” Jenks shouted, darting to a stop inches from the woman to make her jerk back. “You could have killed her! She’s only a year old!”
Daryl’s thin eyebrows rose. “A pixy?” she said haughtily, then stifled a cough. “Take your complaint to what demon will listen to you. Sylvan is in that statue, and there he will stay!”
“I’ll take my complaint to you!” Jenks shouted, poking his sword at her nose.
The woman shrieked, robes furling as she swung her fist to miss him completely. “You cut me! You filthy little mouse!”
Jenks darted back, only to dive in again to slice another cut under her eye. “I’m letting Sylvan go if only to piss you off! You look like a sorority sister in hell week with that discount sheet around you! What is that, a one-fifty thread count? My three-year-old can weave better than that.”
Clasping a hand over her eye, the woman shrieked, her voice echoing in the darkness. “I’ll destroy you for that!” she cried, spinning to keep Jenks in front of her.
“Jenks?” Bis said loudly, half hiding behind Sylvan’s statue. “Maybe we should leave the goddess alone.”
“Goddess!” Jenks pulled up a safe eight feet into the air. His sword glinted red in the lamplight, and his wings hummed. Cocky, he dropped back down. “She’s no goddess. She’s a whiny. Little. Girl.”
Angry at the woman’s lack of respect, Jenks slashed at her robes with each word.
“Uh, Jenks?” Bis warbled his creased face bunched in worry as she screeched.
“Get out of here!” Jenks yelled at her like she was a stray dog. “Go find a museum or something. That’s where you belong! Tell them Jenks sent you.”
Panting, the woman came to a halt, staring up at him. Her face was red, and determination was equally mixed with anger. A car door slammed in the distance. Someone had heard her and was coming across the wide expanse of lawn. Oblivious, the woman jumped straight up at him with a fierce yell.
“Holy crap!” Jenks exclaimed, darting up. But the woman had sprung to her statue, scattering Bis and using it to make another leap for him. “Whoa! Lady. Chill out!” Jenks shouted as he darted to the nearby tree. Immediately he realized his mistake when Daryl leapt into the branches, following him.
“I am a goddess!” she screamed, her sword thunking into the branches as he dodged her. “You will die, pixy! Your name will be forgotten. Anyone who aligns themselves with Sylvan is a shade still walking!”
Maybe he went too far, Jenks wondered as her blade got closer with each swing, but before he could retreat, his wings unexpectedly froze. He had a glimpse of Daryl blowing at him with her lips pursed, and then he plummeted, falling through the leaves to the cement below.
“No!” Jenks exclaimed as the smacking of leaves against his back ceased and he dropped into free fall. A yelp escaped him when long, thin, gray fingers caught him, pulling him closer to the ashy scent of iron and dry stone. Above, Daryl scrambled to reach the ground.
“Bis!” Jenks said, dazed as he looked up to the gargoyle’s red eyes. “Good God. We have to get out of here!”
“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been telling you,” Bis said dryly.
In the distance, the sound of car doors slamming and the revving of an engine told him whoever it was, was now leaving. Bis landed again on Sylvan’s statue, shaking in fear. Carefully testing his wings, Jenks took to the air. Daryl was again on the sidewalk, her steely eyes watching them both in evaluation.
“You okay?” Bis said as his claws scratched the statue’s forehead.
“Yeah,” he said, stretching his shoulders and wondering if there was a remaining stiffness. “We have to get this bitch away from the garden before she hurts someone.”
“How?”
Bis was trembling, his eyes wide and whirling. Grinning, Jenks rose farther up into the air. “I’ll get her to follow me,” he said to the gargoyle, then turned to the woman. “Hey, bright eyes! What’s your problem with Sylvan? Did the dude bump uglies with one of your girlfriends?”
Jenks shifted his hips back and forth to make sure she knew what he was talking about, and Daryl’s eyes narrowed. With no warning, she came at him silently, her robes furling in the wind from her passage.
Adrenaline pushing him, Jenks darted into the green field, leading her away. The city was nearby. He’d get her among the buildings, then ditch her. The cops would pick her up for disturbing the peace. Inderland Security would love bringing in a thought-to-be-extinct species of Inderlander with a goddess complex, but that was their job.
Laughing, Jenks sped across the grass, dark and black with the night. A ripple of wind shifted under his wings, and he looked down. An eerie keening dove down upon him, and in a surge of panic, he found himself tossed in a sudden whirlwind.
His sense of direction vanished. Tumbling, the wind beat at him, almost a living force bending his wings and tearing his breath from his lungs. Starved for air and out of control, he fell out of the sky and slammed into the ground. The wind collapsed on him, bringing him to his knees. Eyes shut, he held his wings to his back, one hand gripping his sword, the other clenched upon the grass to keep him from spinning away.
Just as suddenly as it came upon him, the wind broke into a thousand pieces of shrill voice and vanished. Dazed, he looked up, still kneeling.
Daryl was standing over him, her silver eyes gleaming like a cat’s in the dark. Wheezing from the pollution, she raised her foot. “You are rude, and you will die.”
“Oh, shit . . .” Jenks whispered.
A dark gray streak slammed into her chest, and, stumbling, Daryl fell back.
“Bis!” Jenks exclaimed as the gargoyle swung back around, plucking him from the ground and holding him close. “Tink loves a duck, you’re a great backup!”
“You can’t fly,” Bis said breathlessly. “You’re too lig
ht. Let’s get out of here!”
“ ’Kay,” Jenks said, grateful but feeling somewhat sheepish. This was the kind of spot he was always getting Rachel out of. He didn’t like being carried, but if the woman could whistle up the wind, then he’d be better off with Bis. The moon had shifted, and Vincet and his family would be okay for another day. If the garden was sacred, Daryl wouldn’t be likely to tear it apart.
Behind them came an infuriated shriek, and Jenks cringed when the roar of the wind came again. Wiggling, he inched himself up to look over Bis’s shoulder, not liking the dips and swerves Bis was putting into his flight. Squinting, he looked behind him expecting to see a frustrated women standing alone, but the grass was empty. Satisfaction filled him. Until he saw the black, boiling cloud bearing down on them, rolling over the grass to leave it untouched.
“Holy shit!” he exclaimed, seeing a tiny white figure at the center. “Bis, she’s flying! The freaky bitch is flying!”
Bis’s smooth wing beats faltered. Glancing back, he gulped. “She’s riding a ley line. Jenks, I don’t know how she’s doing it or what she is!”
Pointing at them with her sword, the woman clenched her teeth and grinned, clearly eager for battle. Her oiled ringlets lay flat, and her robe plastered to her like a second skin. The chugging of heavy air reverberated off the nearby buildings, but the trees were utterly still.
“Go!” shrilled Jenks, smacking Bis’s shoulder. “Go to ground!”
The heat off the street was a wave as they left the park. Town homes gave way to buildings, flashing past and reduced to blurs. Cars were moments of light and noise, and still she came on, leaving the sound of horns and folding metal in her wake. Glass shattered, and Jenks hunched into Bis’s protection, a new terror filling him as he realized that to take to the air now would be his death. Bis’s flight grew sickeningly erratic among the buildings, and Jenks looked behind him.
They weren’t going to make it.
“Down!” he screamed, voice lost in the shrieking wind. “Go to ground, Bis!”
