“You know how it never lets us move anything or get rid of anything?”
I nodded. We’d spent a lot of useless time when I first moved in, trying in vain to adjust the place to fit our lifestyle. But every time we threw something out, it was back in place the next day. And the house could be vindictive, with that odd sort of consciousness magical objects sometimes acquire over time. The last time Claire had tried a reno, half her clothes had ended up scattered across the front lawn.
“I think Pip spelled the place to maintain the status quo, probably so he wouldn’t have to do any maintenance,” she told me. “But the ley-line sink has so much power that it tends to magnify spells, so . . .”
“It got a little too enthusiastic?”
“Essentially, yes.”
I glanced at the hole by the threshold that had been there since shortly after I moved in. “Not everything comes back,” I pointed out.
“It’s a housekeeping spell,” she told me. “I don’t think it was designed to recognize demon blood. But more normal types of damage it should be able to handle.”
“Then why isn’t it putting it back better?” I was taking in the same rust line along the top of the fridge door, the same warped cabinets above the stove and the same scuffed boards on the same dusty old floor.
“Because it was designed to maintain everything exactly as it was at the moment Pip laid the spell. And I don’t think he cared too much about decor.”
“So that stain on the ceiling in my bedroom—”
“Is always going to be there, yes. Assuming the ceiling knits back.” She looked up. “I’m hopeful, but that was a lot of damage.”
I stared up, thinking about all the weapons I could buy if I didn’t have to put a new roof on this thing. Of course the spell also meant I could never get rid of the ugly furniture, hideous wallpaper and outdated fixtures. But it wasn’t a perfect world.
“I guess we’ll find out,” I said, peering over her shoulder to see what smelled so damn good. I blinked in disbelief. “That’s meat.”
She shot me an evil look. “I know. Don’t start.”
“Are you planning on eating it?” I peeked under a row of paper towel-covered plates by the stove and discovered piles of bacon, eggs and toast. Considering that her usual breakfast had been wheat flakes and almond milk, it was a bit of a shock. But a good one. I filched a piece of bacon and pulled my hand back before she could slap it.
She scowled. “No.”
“This has something to do with going scaly, doesn’t it?”
“It has something to do with my other half slowly driving me nuts!” Claire said, stabbing at the remaining bacon. “It keeps trying to influence me.”
I thought it already had, given a few of her comments from last night. And that wasn’t such a bad thing. If ever a situation called for a little more ruthlessness, having a bunch of homicidal fey after your kid was it.
“I’ve tried to compromise,” she groused. “I tried eating fish and eggs.”
“Did it help?”
She made a face. “No. It doesn’t want fish. It doesn’t like eggs. It wants big piles of meat—the rarer and the greasier, the better. It would prefer live, squirmy things that it could kill first, only it knows better than to ask for that. So it tortures me with dreams of steak and sausages and ribs grilling over a fire.”
I grinned. “So you’re cooking all this to what? Torture it back?”
“The kids have to eat something. And I wanted to make enough for the twins and for a snack for them later. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“How long you’ll be?”
“Checking on Naudiz. It’s not the kind of thing anyone is going to discuss over the phone. I need to go in person.”
“Actually, no,” I told her, stealing another slice. It was the good kind—thick, with a honey, peppery glaze. “You need to stay here with Aiden. I have to go in person.”
“You don’t have my contacts,” she protested.
“I have Olga.”
Claire looked skeptical. “Your secretary?”
“Her late husband was pretty well known in the supernatural weapons trade. And Benny wasn’t too particular about where he obtained his goods.”
“And that’s a plus?”
“It is if you’re looking for a hot fey battle rune. I don’t think that guard is likely to go through legit channels. Her people are more likely to have heard something.”
“But I can’t just stay here and do nothing! That’s all I ever do!”
“You’re not doing nothing. You’re guarding your son.
And frankly, you’re a lot scarier than I am.”
She shot me an exasperated look. “Thanks!”
“You know what I mean. I can’t do what you can do, Claire. So let me do what I know how to do, okay?”