Pale Demon (The Hollows #9)(42)
Author: Kim Harrison

The path turned, and we halted at the end of the village, looking over what was once probably the refuse dump. Below us at the bottom of a steep drop-off were figures etched into the rock, the dark surface chipped off to show the white stone underneath. Most of the glyphs were indecipherable circles and spirals, but the one with the bird holding a man in his beak was clear enough. It looked kind of Egyptian, and I wondered if demons had been here.

"Look at those cave drawings," I said, pointing out the one with the storklike bird.

"They’re called petroglyphs." Ivy didn’t even look at them, focused on the amulet.

"Okay, but that huge bird is eating that man," I said, and she glanced up.

"I think it says ‘stay close to the village, or the boogie man will get you.’"

I lifted my eyes to the open spaces over the glyph, feeling like we were being watched.

"Right," I said, not convinced. "And those little tally marks under it are what?"

She shrugged, and I hugged myself, wanting to scream for Jenks. "Where is he?" I said, stifling my urge to take the amulet from her, knowing better. Ivy felt helpless, too.

"I can’t tell." Ivy turned in a slow circle, her expression one of the lost. "I know they’re watching us." Pursing her lips, she whistled.

Below us in the parking lot, Trent pushed from the car. I waved him to stay, and he kicked a stone as he crossed the parking lot to crouch and feel the dirt between his fingers.

Ivy and I strained to hear something, but not even an insect broke the sound of wind on stone. I didn’t like this. If they took Jenks to ground, we’d never find them. "Jenks!" I shouted, then spun at a tiny rock falling.

"Careful…," Ivy said, her hand on my arm, and we went forward together, following the path over a small ridge and out of sight of the parking lot.

I crept along, uncomfortable under the sun as the heat evaporated the sweat before it dampened my skin. Twenty feet ahead of us was another part of the village, the corner wall rebuilt almost to waist height. A small motion caught my attention, and I stumbled to a halt.

There atop the wall, hogtied and with his own bandanna shoved into his mouth, was Jenks. I couldn’t see his face, but his quick motions told me he was ticked, squirming with his words muffled by distance and his bandanna. His wings weren’t moving, either. A black dust sifted from him. He looked like a sacrifice, and Ivy’s words about the local gods echoed in my thoughts along with the image of that bird with a man in his beak. Maybe it was a pixy.

"Son of a bitch!" Jenks shouted, finally getting the bandanna off his mouth. "You cowardly sons of bitches!" he said again, then accidentally rolled off the wall to vanish behind it with a yelp.

"Jenks!" Ivy shouted, lunging forward.

"No, wait!" I shouted, reaching after her and feeling like the earth was going to drop out from under us. A piercing whistle echoed. My adrenaline pulsed.

"Rhombus!" I shouted, cowering as my molecule-thin layer of ever-after rose up around us. The protection circle snapped into place with a mind-jolting echo, and I looked up as tiny arrows plunked into it. The sun seemed darker, scaring me. Have I put that much smut on myself already?

"Stop!" a shrill pixy voice cried out ahead of me. "Or we kill the black-haired woman!"

"Rachel, stop!" Jenks shouted, and I looked up. And blanched. Thirty. No, fifty, maybe more, pixies surrounded Ivy, all with a bow or a sword or both. She wasn’t in my circle. Her vampiric speed had moved her too far.

"Ivy!" I called out, and she slowly licked her lips, fingers spread as she put her arms up in capitulation. Her face was deathly pale, and she barely breathed as the pixies, in shades of brown and violet, hovered over her, their dust coating her in a sheet of red, savage as they hooted and brandished their weapons. I had the ugly realization that this was how they survived out here-bringing down animals to supplement the traditional pixy diet of pollen and nectar. Shit, we were in trouble.

"Ah, sorry about this," Ivy said, freezing when the pixies above her told her to be still.

"If you hurt her," I threatened, and my gaze darted to the ridge. Trent was there, tense and looking like he was ready to do something. Damn it, I couldn’t protect both of them. What was he doing? If they saw him, they’d attack, and I tried to tell him with my eyes to get the hell out of here.

The bright flash of yellow drew my attention back, and I frowned at the colorful pixy dressed in a flaming yellow, billowing outfit as he hovered before me. He looked like an ill eighteen-year-old who’d been into the Brimstone too much, his dark skin wrinkled by the sun and too little rest. His grip on his six-inch toad sticker of a spear was firm enough, though, and his green eyes were as sharp as any I’d ever seen.

"Why are you following us, witch?" he demanded, hovering inches from my barrier. His words were so fast, I almost couldn’t understand him. My eyes flicked back to Trent, and I shifted my shoulders as I realized he was gone. Just start the car and wait, I thought, knowing that was too much to ask. He was going to do something, and it probably was going to make things worse. Stupid elf.

From behind the wall, I heard Jenks shout, "What the Turn is wrong with you? They’re my friends!"

The pixy confronting me darted to the wall. "Liar!" he exclaimed, gesturing for two pixies to get him. "They’re lunkers!"

"They’re my friends." Two pixies dropped down, depositing Jenks back on the wall right where he’d started from. Looking pissed, Jenks stood, wobbling as he tried to find his balance. It looked like they’d weighted the tip of one wing to keep him from flying.

"I’m not making this up," Jenks said in disgust. "I’m Jenks! Of Cincinnati. I’m traveling to the West Coast on a job, and I can’t stay here. And I’m not going to marry any of your women! I have a wife!"

I exchanged a shocked look with Ivy, and she rocked back, centering herself. They had kidnapped him as stud material?

"Liar!" the head pixy shouted, his wings moving fast in the heat. "You said she died!"

I opened my mouth, but Jenks beat me to it, shouting, "I don’t want a new wife! I love my old one. Do you have troll turds in your ears? Get this thing off me!" Jenks shook his wings, dusting heavily as the clip weighed him down.

Two more pixies, both in matching shades of sage green, had risen to flank the head pixy. "He did complain the entire way," the one with the length of steel said.

"Lifted his ass 150 miles, him bitching nonstop," the other with the bow said. This was weird. I’d swear they were the same age, but they didn’t look like they were from the same clan. Pixies didn’t cooperate like this. At least, pixies east of the Mississippi didn’t. Maybe they had to band together in the desert to survive. That might explain why they thought Jenks should take a new wife, too.