"She tried to bite you?"

I looked from the passing night to Jenks, seeing in the light from the car behind us his wings go still, then blur to nothing and go still again. Jenks looked from Nick's embarrassed face to my worried one. "Ohhh," he said, his eyes widening. "Now I get it. She wanted to bind you to her so only she could make your vamp scar resonate to vamp pheromones. You turned her down. My God, she must be embarrassed. No wonder she's upset."

"Jenks, shut up," I said, stifling the urge to grab him and toss him out the window. He would only catch up at the first red light.

The pixy flitted to Nick's shoulder, eyeing the lights glowing on the dash. "Nice truck."

"Thanks."

"Stock?"

Nick's gaze slid from the taillights of the car ahead to Jenks. "Modified."

Jenks's wings blurred, then steadied. "What's your top end?"

"One fifty with NOS."

"Damn!" the pixy swore admiringly as he flew back to the rearview mirror. "Check your lines. I smell a leak."

Nick's eyes darted to a grimy, obviously not factory-installed lever under the dash before returning to the road. "Thanks. I wondered." Slowly he rolled his window down a crack.

"No problem."

I opened my mouth to ask, then closed it. Must be a guy thing.

"So-o-o-o-o," Jenks drawled. "We going to your mom's?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Want to come?"

He rose an inch as we hit a pothole, hovering cross-legged. "Sure. Thanks. Her Rose of Sharon is probably still blooming. Think she'd mind if I took some of the pollen home?"

"Why don't you ask her?"

"I will." A grin came over him. "You'd better put some makeup on that love bite."

"Jenks!" I exclaimed, my hand going to cover my neck. I had forgotten. My face warmed as Jenks and Nick exchanged looks in some asinine macho thing. God help me, I felt as if I was back in the cave. Me mark woman so Glurg keep his furry hands off her.

"Nick," I pleaded, keenly feeling the lack of my bag. "Can I borrow some money? I have to stop at a charm shop."

But the only thing more embarrassing than buying a complexion spell is buying one with a hickey on your neck. Especially when most of the shop owners knew me. So I opted for autonomy and asked Nick to stop at a gas station. Of course, the spell rack by the register was empty, so I ended up plastering my neck with conventional makeup. Covergirl? Don't you believe it. Nick said it looked all right but Jenks laughed his wings red. He sat on Nick's shoulder and chatted about the attributes of the pixy girls he had known before meeting Matalina, his wife. The randy pixy kept it up all the way to the outskirts of Cincinnati where my mom lived while I tried to touch up my makeup in the visor's mirror.

"Left down that street," I said, wiping my fingers off on each other. "It's the third house on the right."

Nick said nothing as he pulled to the curb in front of my house. The porch light was on for us, and I swear I saw the curtain flutter. I hadn't been there for a few weeks, and the tree I'd planted with my dad's ashes was turning. The spreading maple was almost shading the garage in the twelve years it had been in the ground.

Jenks had already buzzed out Nick's open door, and as Nick leaned to get out, I reached for his arm. "Nick?" I questioned. He paused at the worried tone in my voice, easing back against the age-worn vinyl as I drew my hand away and looked at my knees. "Um, I want to apologize for my mom—before you meet her," I blurted.

He smiled, his long face going soft. He leaned across the front seat and gave me a quick kiss. "Moms are terrible, aren't they?" He got out, and I waited impatiently until he came around and jerked my door open for me.

"Nick?" I said as he took my hand and we started up the walk. "I mean it. She's a little whacked. My dad's death really threw her. She's not a psychopath or anything, but she doesn't think about what she's saying. If it comes into her head, it comes out her mouth."

His pinched expression eased. "Is that why I haven't met her yet? I thought it was me."

"You?" I questioned, then winced inside. "Oh. The human/witch thing?" I said softly, so he wouldn't have to. "No." Actually, I had forgotten about that. Suddenly nervous, I checked my hair and felt for my missing bag. My toes were cold, and the flip-flops were loud and awkward on the cement steps. Jenks was hovering beside the porch light, looking like a huge moth. I rang the bell and stood beside Nick. Please make it one of her good days.

"I'm glad it wasn't me," Nick said.

"Yeah," Jenks said as he landed on my shoulder. "Your mom ought to meet him. Seeing as he's bonking her daughter and all."

"Jenks!" I exclaimed, then steeled my face as the door opened.

"Rachel!" my mom cried, swooping forward and giving me a hug. I closed my eyes and returned her embrace. She was shorter than I was, and it felt odd. Hair spray caught in my throat over the faint whiff of redwood. I felt bad about not telling her the full truth about quitting the I.S. and the death threats I'd survived. I hadn't wanted to worry her.

"Hi, Mom," I said, pulling back. "This is Nick Sparagmos. And you remember Jenks?"

"Of course I do. It's good to see you again, Jenks." She stepped back into the threshold, a hand briefly going to her faded, straight red hair and then her calf-length, sweater dress. A knot of worry loosened in me. She looked good. Better than the last time. The mischievous glint was back in her eyes, and she moved quickly as she ushered us inside. "Come in, come in," she said, putting a small hand on Nick's shoulder. "Before the bugs follow you."

The hall light was on, but it did little to illuminate the shadowy green hallway. Pictures lined the narrow space, and I felt claustrophobic as she gave me another fierce hug, beaming as she pulled away. "I'm so glad you came," she said, then turned to Nick. "So you're Nick," she said, giving him a once-over, her lower lip between her teeth. She nodded sharply as she saw his scuffed dress shoes, then her lips twisted in thought as she saw my flip-flops.

"Mrs. Morgan," he said, smiling and offering his hand.

She took it, and I winced as she pulled him staggering into a hug. She was a great deal shorter than he was, and after his first startled moment, he grinned at me over her head.

"How wonderful to meet you," she said as she let him go and turned to Jenks.

The pixy had put himself at the ceiling. "Hi, Mrs. Morgan. You look nice tonight," he said warily, dipping slightly.

"Thank you." She smiled, her few wrinkles deepening. The house smelled like spaghetti sauce, and I wondered if I should have warned Mom that Nick was human. "Well, come all the way in. Can you stay for lunch? I'm making spaghetti. No problem to make a little more."

I couldn't help my sigh as she led the way to the kitchen. Slowly I started to relax. Mom seemed to be watching her mouth more than usual. We entered the kitchen, bright from the overhead light, and I breathed easier. It looked normal—human normal. My mom didn't do much spelling anymore, and only the dissolution vat of saltwater by the fridge and the copper spell pot on the stove gave anything away. She had been in high school during the Turn, and her generation was very discreet. "We just came to pick up my ley line stuff," I said, knowing my idea to get it and run was a lost cause since the copper pot was full of boiling water for pasta.

"It's no trouble," she said as she added a sheaf of spaghetti, ran her eyes down Nick, then added another. "It's after seven. You're hungry, aren't you, Nick?"

"Yes, Mrs. Morgan," he said, despite my pleading look.

She turned from the stove, content. "And you, Jenks. I don't have much in the yard, but you're welcome to what you can find. Or I can mix up some sugar water if you'd like."