The Undead Pool

“Listen to me!” Edden shouted, and they all shut up. “I know this isn’t popular, but we are confident that the people responsible are still in Cincinnati or the Hollows. I’m asking everyone to calm down and be cooperative, and for God’s sake, don’t go targeting your neighbors because they have fangs. We’ve got a hotline set up if you think you have something we need to know, and I’m confident—”

I turned the radio off, arms around my middle. And the day had started so nice, too. “Edden told them,” I said, surprised. “They must be out of leads.”

“Either that or they were worried about a panic that a new virus was killing the undead. You know how sensitive everyone is about that.” Catching back a snort, I nodded. He was looking at my bare feet, and I tried to hide one under the other. “It was Bancroft’s idea to break the news,” he said as his gaze rose to my spelling pots hanging over the center island counter. “I phoned the data to him last night. He says thank you.”

Bancroft? My suspicion rose. “Always glad to help,” I said, watching how Trent’s hand entirely encompassed the bottom of my smallest spelling pot as he gently lifted it free of the hook, but my notion to tell him not to cook with it slipped away as I remembered seeing him last year, wet from the shower, a towel around his hips and his hair clinging to his face. His abs had been beautiful, his waist trim, and his skin taut as he moved. “And?” I said, hiding behind my cup.

“Moving you to the ever-after won’t solve anything.”

“Oh, thank all that is holy,” I said, slumping. “Ah, not that I wouldn’t have.”

He smiled, and I slid to the side so he could throw the shells away. Jenks was using both hands to work the twist tie on the bread bag, and I belatedly got a plate down, feeling like a fifth wheel.

“Thanks,” Trent said. “I hope you don’t mind me using your exercise bike. I needed to stretch out after last night. I’ve not ridden like that in a long time.”

I dropped my eyes before they caught his. His mood was pinging on my subconscious. Something was on his mind other than breakfast. I had a feeling I knew what it was, and I didn’t want to talk about it. “You used Ivy’s machine? It’s a good one, isn’t it.”

From the sink Jenks’s wings hummed in discontent. His kids must be up to mischief. “Hey, I owe you, cookie man,” Jenks said as Trent found a fork to beat the eggs with. “It would have taken me all summer to move those rocks.”

“I said I’d help you with that,” I said, and Jenks’s dust shifted to an annoyed orange.

“Like I said, all summer,” he said to make me feel guilty. Trent, though, was all smiles.

“My pleasure. I don’t count us even, yet. Moving rocks isn’t payment enough for your help last year.”

Stealing his daughter, I thought, wondering if it had really only been a year. “Can I help with anything?” I asked, needing something to do so I’d stop thinking about stuff.

“No, I’ve got it,” he said as he took a pan from under the counter and set it on the stove.

“I’m not used to people making me breakfast,” I said as I sat at the table. Jenks was watching me as if I was doing something wrong, and I made a what? face, switching back to a bland smile when Trent came up from eyeing the flame under the pan.

“I hope you don’t mind I just hung out here this morning. Ivy wasn’t back yet and you were sleeping. I didn’t want to simply leave.” He touched the inside of the pan once, then again, clearly dissatisfied with the temp. “I like your church. It’s quiet, but in a good way. Not lonely.”

Jenks frowned at me, and I had no idea why. “Excuse me,” he said, his tone almost caustic as he flew out the kitchen.

Whatever. “Thanks,” I said as Trent crossed his arms and stifled a yawn. It was nearing noon. Time for all good pixies and elves to siesta. I wasn’t all that rested myself. Sleep had been hard to find, and fleeting. There was an unfamiliar laptop and a mug of coffee beside me, and I glanced at Ivy’s spot at the table. The laptop was shiny enough to be hers, but she’d just gotten a new one. “Yours?” I asked.

Trent held his hand over the pan and pulled back. “Quen had it couriered over. Cincy is locked down, but there’re a few ways in and out of the Hollows yet if you know the back roads. Oh, that reminds me,” he said as he almost danced to the table and picked up a set of keys and jingled them. “Your car is in the carport.”

“Thanks!” I said, stuffing them in my front pocket. My car wasn’t just a car, it was my freedom, and he knew it. “At least now you know you can get Tulpa home,” I said. But then guilt hit me, and I set my mug aside. “Trent, I’m so sorry you lost Red—”

Head shaking, Trent reached for the egg mixture. “It’s my fault. Carlton said she wasn’t ready. I disagreed. He was right. Ten to one Newt has her.”

“Even so, she’s still lost. She must be worth a fortune.”

“And then some,” he admitted, face grim. “I can’t believe I fell off her.”

“I’m really sorry. If Newt does have her, I’ll see about getting her back.”