I tried to breathe, but it wasn't enough. The snow hurt where it hit my skin, and I whimpered.

"I will not let them take Holly," Mia said as she stood over me. "You're filthy animals, and you'd kill her, even if only by accident. I worked too hard for her. She's mine."

My fingers twitched, accidentally rolling a gray pebble between my cold skin and the pavement. Mia stepped away and vanished, her footsteps fading quickly. I heard the slamming of a car door and then the car's idling away. All that was left was the falling snow, each flake making a soft tap as it landed on my eyelashes and cheeks.

I couldn't close my eyes, but it didn't seem to matter as my fingers quit moving and the heavy blackness finally smothered me.

Twelve

There was a faint scent of orange antiseptic, and the one-sided come and go of a distant, professional conversation. Closer, the sound of a TV murmured, only the low parts audible, as if through thick walls. I dozed in a pleasant muffled state, comfortable and somnolent. I'd been cold and in pain. Now I was warm and feeling pretty damn good, perfectly content to slip further into a dreamless state.

But the distinctive smell of the sheets tucked up to my chin tickled my memory, winding insidiously through my brain looking for a conscious thought. Then it found one.

"Shit!" I barked, adrenaline slamming through me. I bolted upright, eyes wide and an unreasonable fear jerking me from my drugged haze. I was in the hospital.

"Rache?"

Panicked, I turned to the sound of pixy wings, sweat beading up on me. Jenks was inches from my nose. His tiny features were pinched and afraid, scaring me. "Rache, it's okay," he said as an orange haze drifted from him to color my drawn-up knees. "You're okay. Look at me! You're okay!"

Lips parted, I focused on him and forced my breathing to slow. I was okay, and as soon as I realized that, I bobbed my head. Stringy, nasty curls shifted to block my eyes, and I pushed them back with a shaky hand. Just that effort seemed to tax me, and I let myself fall back into the slightly raised bed. "Sorry," I said softly, and he landed on my blanket-covered knee. "I thought I was in the hospital."

Jenks's expression became concerned and his wings stopped. "Ah, you are."

"No," I said as I found the controls and raised the head of the bed farther. "I mean I thought I was—" I hesitated. "Never mind," I amended, exhaling to get rid of the last of the adrenaline. I couldn't tell him I thought I was in the children's wing where I hadn't been able to cross the room to turn on the TV without going breathless. It was that memory that had shocked me awake, and I arranged the sheets to cover as much of the ugly white-and-blue-diamond gown as possible. Jeez, Robbie visits for the first time in eight years, and I'm hospitalized?

Jenks buzzed to the long bed table, pushed to the side. His wings stilled, and the red haze that had been hovering about one wing turned into a bit of red medical tape. I sort of remembered the ambulance. There was an IV stuck in me, and I vaguely recalled the paramedic putting it in. He had given me something, and after that, nothing. I'd had IVs before, but they usually went with an amulet if the patient was a witch. Maybe I was in worse shape than I thought.

My gaze went to the clock, right where they always put it. Noon. It didn't feel like I'd been unconscious for longer than a single night. From cold pavement to hospital. I had been there, and now I was here.

There was a stuffed giraffe on the narrow rolling table, probably from my mother. Stuffed animals were her thing. Beside it was a miniature rose sculpted of stone. From Bis, maybe? I took the stuffed animal in my hands, feeling the softness against my fingertips, in a state of melancholy. "Mia?" I asked Jenks.

The pixy's wings drooped and went a faint blue. "Gone."

I met his frown with my own. "Remus?"

"Him, too." He made the short flight to the bars on the bed, slipping slightly. "He sideswiped Ivy with a pipe; otherwise, we'd have him."

Alarmed, I stiffened, but his lack of reaction told me she was all right.

"She's madder than a jilted troll," he said with a wry expression, "but she's okay. Nothing broken. By the time she got up, he was gone. She tracked them to a busy street, and then…poof. Hot-wired a car and somehow slipped past the FIB roadblocks. Edden's pissed."

And baby makes three, I thought as I set the giraffe down. Crap on toast, they could be long gone. I hoped Audrey was right that banshees never left their city, or we'd never find them.

Jenks reached back to fix the red bit of tape on his wing and I flushed, remembering having thrown him at Edden. "Hey, I'm sorry about your wing," I said, and he brought his gaze to mine, his eyes green under the yellow shock of hair. "I did that, didn't I?" I added, pointing with my gaze. "I'm sorry."

"Nahhh, I'm fine," he drawled as his hand came forward. "It gave Matalina something to do besides yell at the kids. This happened in Edden's car, chasing Remus."

I wasn't sure I believed him.

"How about you?" Jenks asked, sitting cross-legged beside a mug of water bigger than his cat. "You feel okay? Your aura is…really thin."

I held a hand in front of my face and wished I could see my own aura. The demon mark on my wrist looked ugly, and I let my hand drop. "Holly stripped it from me," I said. "Took it along with my life's energy. That's why I passed out. I think. Has anyone looked at Glenn's aura? That's probably what happened to him, too."

Jenks nodded. "Right after you came in mumbling about your aura being gone. He's awake now. I saw him. His aura is patchy, but it will thicken. That freaky little baby can't even talk yet, and she's a born killer. She should've killed you. The doctors don't know why she didn't. They don't know why you woke up three days earlier than Glenn either. They were here staring at you and asking each other all sorts of questions, looking at your demon scars…" His lips pressed tight as a feeling of angst slid through me. "I don't like it, Rache."

"Me neither." Feeling violated, I tugged my blankets up a little. Had my demon marks saved me? Made my aura taste bad? I remembered a sensation of black coursing through me as Holly stripped everything, like she was sucking the last milk from a bottle, bubbles and all. I didn't like that something evil had saved me. It was bad enough that I had demon scars, but that I had to be grateful for them for saving my life was…perverted.

Jenks's wings hummed fitfully. Rising up, he said with forced cheerfulness, "You've got company. I can hear him in the hall."

Edden? I wondered as I was making sure I was covered when a soft knock at the cracked door turned into a soft scuffing. "Marshman!" Jenks exclaimed, a sunbeam trailing behind him when he went to the door. "How you doing? Rachel's happy to see you."

Eyebrows raised, I gave Jenks a sidelong glance. I'm happy to see him?

Sitting straighter, I waved sloppily at the tall man as he entered. He had his coat open, showing a flannel shirt with a wisp of curling black peeping out at the neckline. The casual lumberjack cut of the shirt hung nicely on his broad swimmer's shoulders, tucked into his jeans to show off his thin waist. There was a bouquet of flowers in each hand, and he looked awkward as he stopped before me. "Hi, Rachel," he said, smiling uncertainly, as if not sure he should be here. "Ah, you get what you needed in the mall?"

I laughed and shifted more upright. I knew how I looked in blue diamonds, and it wasn't attractive. "Thanks," I said sourly. "Sorry about that. She ran. I chased her." Dumb.

"And you got banshee-slapped," he said, putting the two bouquets down and sitting on the edge of the bed beside me. "Are you okay? They wouldn't let me ride with you to the hospital. You were delirious." He hesitated. "Did you really steal Mr. Ray's wishing fish?"