A Fistfull of Charms(24)

His back to the water and his face empty of emotion, Jenks watched the sporadic traffic.
“Where else could they be?” I tore open my candy bar and took a bite of caramel and chocolate, more for something to do than hunger. The van was radiating heat, and it felt good to lean against the side of the engine. “Jax said they were in Michigan,” I said, chewing. “Big green bridge held up by cables. Lots of fresh water. Fudge. Putt-putt golf. We’ll find him.”
Pain, hard and deep, crossed Jenks’s face. “Jax was the first child Mattie and I were able to keep alive through the winter,” he whispered, and the sweetness left the wad of sugar and nuts in my mouth. “He was so small, I held him in my hands to keep him warm for four months while I slept. I’ve got to find him, Rache.”
Oh God, I thought as I swallowed, wondering if I had ever loved anyone that deeply. “We’ll find him,” I said. Feeling totally inadequate, I reached to touch him, pulling away at the last moment. He realized it, and the silence grew uncomfortable.
“Ready to go?” I said, folding the wrapper over the rest of the candy and reaching for the door handle. “We’re almost there. We’ll get a room, grab something to eat, and then I’m taking you shopping.”
“Shopping?” His thin eyebrows rose, and he walked to the front of the van.
Our doors shut simultaneously, and I buckled myself in, refreshed, and my resolve strengthened. “You don’t think I’m going to be seen with a six-foot piece of dessert dressed in a nasty pair of sweats, do you?” 
Jenks brushed the hair from his eyes, his angular face showing a surprising amount of sly amusement. “Some underwear would be nice.”
Snorting, I started the van and put it into reverse, snapping off the CD player before it started up again. “Sorry about that. I had to get out of there.”
“Me too,” he said, surprising me. “And I wasn’t about to wear any of Kisten’s. The guy is nice and all, but he stinks.” He hesitated, plucking at his collar. “Hey, uh, thanks for what you said back there.”
My brow furrowed. Checking both ways, I pulled onto the road. “At the rest stop?”
Sheepish, he shifted his shoulders in embarrassment. “No, in the kitchen about me being the only backup you ever needed.”
“Oh.” I warmed, keeping my eyes on the car ahead of us, a black, salt-rusted Corvette that reminded me of Kisten’s other vehicle. “I meant it, Jenks. I missed you the past five months. And if you don’t come back to the firm, I swear I’m going to leave you like this.”
His panicked expression eased when he saw I was joking. “For the love of Tink, don’t you dare,” he muttered. “I can’t even pix anyone. I sweat now instead of dusting, did you know that? I’ve got water coming off me instead of dust. What the hell can I do with sweat? Rub up against someone and make them puke in disgust? I’ve seen you sweat, and it’s not pretty. I don’t even want to think about sex, two sweaty bodies pressed against each other like that? Disgusting. Talk about birth control—it’s no wonder you only have a handful of kids.”
He shuddered and I smiled. Same old Jenks.
I couldn’t keep myself from stiffening when he began rummaging in the music, and apparently sensing it, he stopped, putting his hands in his lap to stare out the front window at the darkening sky. We had come out of the woods and were starting to see homes and businesses strung out along the road in a thin strip. Behind them was the flat blue of the lake, gray in the fading light.
“Rachel,” he said, his voice soft with regret. “I don’t know if I can come back.”
Alarmed, I looked at him, then the road, then at him again. “What do you mean you don’t know. If it’s about Trent—”
He held up a hand, his brow pinched. “It’s not Trent. I figured out he’s an elf after helping Ceri last night.”
I jerked and the van crossed the yellow line. A horn blew, and I yanked the wheel back. “You figured it out?” I stammered, feeling my heart pound. “Jenks, I wanted to tell you. Really. But I was afraid you would blab, and—”
“I’m not going to tell anyone,” he said, and I could see it was killing him. It would have brought him a huge amount of prestige in the pixy world. “If I do, then it means you were right in not telling me, and you weren’t.”
His voice was hard, and I felt a stab of guilt. “Then why?” I asked, wishing he had brought this up when we were parked, not when I was trying to navigate the outskirts of an unfamiliar town, bright with neon lights.
For a moment he was silent, his young face pensive as he put his thoughts in order. “I’m eighteen,” he finally said. “Do you know how old that is for a pixy? I’m slowing down. You nicked me last fall. Ivy can snag me whenever she wants.”
“Ivy’s got Piscary’s undead reactions,” I said, scared. “And I was lucky. Jenks, you look great. You aren’t old.”
“Rachel…” he said around a sigh. “My kids are moving out to make their own lives. The garden is starting to go empty. I’m not complaining,” he rushed on. “The wish for sterility I got from you is a blessing, since the last three years of children in a pixy’s life have a very low life expectancy and it would kill Matalina knowing she was having children that wouldn’t live a week past her. Little Josephina…she’s flying now. She’s going to make it.”His voice cut off, cracking, and my throat tightened.
“Between that wish and the garden,” he continued, staring out the front window, “I’m not worried about any of my children surviving past Matalina and me, and I thank you for that.”
“Jenks—” I started, wanting him to stop.
“Shut up,” he said hotly, his smooth cheeks reddening. “I don’t want your pity.” Clearly angry, he put a hand on the open windowsill. “It’s my own fault. It never bothered me until I got to know you and Ivy. I’m old. I don’t care what I look like, and I’m mad as all hell that you two are going to have your damn runner business from now until forever and I’m not going to be a part of it. That’s why I didn’t come back. Not because you didn’t tell me what Trent was.”
I didn’t say anything, gritting my jaw and miserable. I hadn’t known he was that old. Signaling, I made a right turn to follow the strip along the water’s edge. Ahead of us was the huge bridge connecting the upper peninsula of Michigan with the lower, all lit up and sparkling.
“You can’t let that stop you from coming back,” I said hesitantly. “I do demon magic and Ivy is Piscary’s scion.” Turning the wheel, I pulled into a two-story motel, an outside pool snuggled up in the el the rooms made. I stopped under the faded red and white striped canopy, watching the kids in swimsuits and plastic arm-cuffs run in front of the van, confident I wouldn’t hit them. The mother trailing behind them gave me a grateful wave. I thought they must be either insane or Weres since it was only sixty out. “Any of us could die tomorrow,” I finished.
He looked at me, the lines of anger smoothing out. “You won’t die tomorrow,” he said.
Putting the van into park, I turned to him. “How do you figure that?”
Jenks undid his belt and gave me a sideways smile that rivaled Kisten’s for mischief. “Because I’m with you.”
A groan slipped from me. I had walked right into that one.
Smiling, he got out, glancing up at the first stars, almost unseen behind the town’s lights. Stiff from the long ride, I followed him into the tiny office. It was empty but for an astounding display of knickknacks and pamphlets. Hands out, Jenks headed for the shelves of miniatures like a starving man, his pixy curiosity and need to touch making the display irresistible. The door shut behind us, and seeing him lost in the throes of pixy bliss, I punched him in the arm.
“Ow!” he exclaimed, holding it and giving me an injured look. “What was that for?”
“You know why,” I said dryly, finding a smile as I turned to the casually dressed woman who came in from a back room through an open archway. I could hear a TV in the background, and smell someone’s lunch. Or dinner, rather, seeing as she was human. 
She blinked as she took us in. “Can I help you?” she asked, becoming hesitant when she realized we were Inderlanders. Mackinaw was a tourist town, and probably not big enough to draw a huge resident Inderland crowd.
“Yes, a room for two, please,” I said, reaching for the registration card and pen. A frown came over me at the form. Well, we could go under my name, I thought, writing Ms. Rachel Morgan in my big loopy script. The clicks of the ceramic and pewter figurines being picked up and set down were audible, and the woman behind the counter winced, watching him over my shoulder. “Jenks, could you get the plate number for me?” I asked, and he slipped out, the seashell door chime clunking roughly.
“That will be two twenty,” she said stiffly.
Great, I thought. Cheap, cheap, cheap. You gotta love small towns in the off-season. “We’re only staying the night, not the week,” I said, putting down the church’s address.