Twenty-seven

The elevator hardly moved, dropping a floor before the silver doors slid apart to show a dark, low-ceilinged entryway. "Jenks," I said as I edged to the opening lit by the elevator itself. "Are you sure about this?"

The hum of his wings rose over the faint sound of machinery as he lifted off from my shoulder. "I'll get the lights. Hit the button for the lobby before you come out so it looks like you left, okay?"

I did what he said, and his faint glow darted out and was lost. There was undoubtedly a camera in the elevator, but Jenks would've taken care of it. I followed the pixy's sifting dust, holding my bag more tightly to me. It was cooler down here. Not like outside, but worrisome.

"Jenks?" I called, hearing my voice come back from hard walls and surfaces. "You okay with this temp?" There were chairs stacked up everywhere, with a wide path leading out. Low carpet. I didn't think the floor was moving, but if it was like upstairs, there would be only a ring of mobile floor, moving with the steady pace of an hour hand.

Jenks's faint voice came back, "Tink's panties. You're worse than my mother, Rache."

"I'm just saying it's cold." The chairs gave way to tables stacked surface to surface. I moved to an open spot before the bare, black windows. It had the same view as the restaurant above, and I could see Fountain Square if I pressed my head to the glass. We weren't moving, but the grinding of machinery was loud. Maybe it was too noisy to use this level.

"Found the lights!" Jenks shouted, and with that as warning, bright light flashed into existence from the recessed fixtures overhead.

I jerked, shrinking down below the level of the windows. "Uh, is there a dimmer? All of Cincinnati can see me!"

Immediately the lights went out, and before I could stand, Jenks's wings were humming by my ear. "No. Sorry. You want me to keep looking?"

Squinting to see with my light-blinded vision, I fumbled for a chair stacked on an upside-down table. "No, there's enough ambient light." I said. "I'll just do this by the window."

He shook himself to light a small circle, and I set the chair in it, dropping my bag on top. A second chair went beside it, and a third about five feet to the side. "What's our time look like?" I asked, tension knotting my stomach as I dug in my bag. Finally my eyes readjusted.

Jenks landed on the back of the chair. I recognized the pattern of brocade from having sat on it only yesterday. "Less than two minutes."

"Why do I always cut these things so darn close?" I said, dropping a pair of jeans on the chair beside me. The eight-year-old memory of Pierce naked in the snow rose up in my thoughts, and I forced it away, setting the rest of his clothes there as well. The shoes had come from Ivy, and they smelled like vampire. I hadn't asked, I'd just said thank you. My splat gun topped the pile, and Mom's red-and-white crucible/stone went on the chair across from me. Pulse quickening, I set the three bottles on the window ledge. Almost ready.

I ran my hands down my dress to dry my palms. Despite it being chilly, I was starting to sweat, and in this dress, it was going to show. "Okay. I can't make a protective circle, so you're going to have to keep yourself intact," I told Jenks.

The pixy's wings blurred into invisibility. "Give me a freaking break."

A sigh slipped from me. "When Al shows, get yourself out of sight until he agrees to leave people with me alone. Got it?"

Jenks looked at me. "Sure, whatever."

Like I believed that. "Time?" I asked.

"Half a minute."

The bottles clinked as I chose one, and Jenks flew to the window, looking down at Fountain Square as I twisted the ground-glass stopper out and poured the liquid into the crucible. The tinkling of the potion drew Jenks back, and hovering so that the draft from his wings shifted the surface, he said, "It doesn't smell like it worked."

He looked worried, and I remembered the failed locator charms. "I have to invoke it when they all start singing."

"Gotcha." Reassured, he lit on the back of the chair. "And he's going to be naked."

"Yup." I rolled the finger stick between my thumb and forefinger, waiting. Man, I hoped I did this right. If I could get Al to agree to this, it would be the first time I'd gotten anything from him without leaving a bit of my soul behind.

From above, I could hear the faint whisper of a countdown, the concrete and machinery between us making the enthusiastic shouting hardly audible. Ten seconds. I snapped the top to the finger stick and pricked my finger. The sharp jab was a jolt, and I massaged the tip.

"Wait for it," Jenks admonished. "Wa-a-a-ait for it…Now!"

Heart pounding, I let one, two, and then three drops of blood into the crucible. "Think happy thoughts," I whispered as Jenks flew to me, and we both waited for the redwood scent that would tell me if I had done the spell right. Like a wave, the warm scent rolled out.

"There it is!" Jenks said brightly, then his expression, lit by his own dust, faded. I backed up from the chair. Okay, I'd done it. Now we'd see if I was as smart as we all hoped I was.

"Holy crap!" the pixy said as the liquid started to spontaneously steam. My pulse quickened, and I picked up my splat gun. Al was going to be pissed. If this didn't get his attention, nothing would.

"Let me know when you smell burnt amber, okay?" I muttered, but Jenks was fascinated, hovering between me and the rising mist, unseen but for the faint dust slipping from him.

"Here he comes!" the pixy said excitedly, and I got behind one of the chairs. Somewhere in the spell, the dust was being used to give Pierce material to form his temporary body around. The mist started to take on a more human silhouette in the faint ambient light. Every second he looked more there. I didn't know what kind of shape he was going to be in. Al could've beaten him badly by now. I was going to have my hands full with Al and wouldn't be able to help Pierce.

"Jenks, get back," I demanded, and the pixy zipped to me and away again. The mist was thickening, and Jenks swore as the misty shape seemed to shrink an inch all around—and suddenly, Pierce was there, his bare feet standing on the brocade fabric with his head near the ceiling facing away from me. Naked as a jaybird.

The man spun, holding on to the back of the chair as he turned. His eyes lit on me, and he let go of the chair, wobbling as he covered himself. "Holy manure," he said, tossing his head to get the black tangle of hair out of his eyes, his face creased in what looked like anger. "I'd be of a mind to know, what the devil are you doing, mistress witch?"

Jenks rose up, his sword bared. "You scrawny ungrateful piece of crap!"

"Jenks!" I shouted, breathing deep for any sign of Al as I leaned over the chair and tossed Pierce the clothes. He caught them with one hand, and in a smooth motion, he jumped to the floor, putting his back to me as he fumbled to put the pants on.

I was scanning the dark, cluttered floor for demon-sign, but Jenks was more interested in Pierce, shocking the man as he flew to face him, shedding bright sparkles. "We're saving your ass, that's what we're doing," he said. "And the correct vernacular is holy shit."

Adrenaline spiked when I caught a whiff of burnt amber, but it was coming from Pierce.

The solid ghost was shoving his legs into the pants, not bothering with the underwear. I couldn't help but notice—even in the dark—that they were nice legs. Strongly muscled. Used to work.

As if feeling my eyes on him, he turned, trying to get the zipper up. "What are you doing?" he said, clearly aghast. "I opine that it's not your responsibility to save me. I can take care of myself."

Still no Al. "Good," I said, anxious, "because in about three seconds, Al is going to show up, and you need to take care of your own ass. I'm going to be busy. Get behind me and stay out of the way, okay?"