Every Which Way But Dead Read Online Free PDF Page A

to her feet. Pixy dust sifted from him in his surprise to make a glittering spot of sun on the gray carpet. He was dressed in his casual gardening clothes of tight-fitting green silk and looked like a miniature Peter Pan minus the hat.
    â€œJenks,” I said as I put a hand on Ceri’s shoulder and pulled her forward. “This is Ceri. She’s going to be staying with us for a while. Ceri, this is Jenks, my partner.”
    Jenks zipped forward, then back in agitation. An amazed look came over Ceri, and she glanced from me to him. “Partner?” she said, her attention going to my left hand.
    Understanding crashed over me and I warmed. “My business partner,” I reiterated, realizing she thought we were married. How on earth could you marry a pixy? Why on earth would you want to? “We work together as runners.” Taking my hat off, I tossed the red wool to the hearth where it could dry on the stone and fluffed the pressure marks from my hair. I had left my coat outside, but I wasn’t going out to get it now.
    She bit her lip in confusion. The warmth of the room had turned them red, and color was starting to come back into her cheeks.
    In a dry clatter, Jenks flitted close so that my curls shifted in the breeze from his wings. “Not too bright, is she,” he pointed out, and when I waved him away in bother, he put his hands on his hips. Hovering before Ceri, he said loudly and slowly as if she were hard of hearing, “We—are—good—guys. We—stop—bad—guys.”
    â€œWarriors,” Ceri said, not looking at him as her eyes touched on Ivy’s leather curtains, plush suede chairs, and sofa. The room was a salute to comfort, all of it from Ivy’s pocketbook and not mine.
    Jenks laughed, sounding like wind chimes. “Warriors,” he said, grinning. “Yeah. We’re warriors. I’ll be right back. I gotta tell that one to Matalina.”
    He zipped out of the room at head height, and my shoulders eased. “Sorry about that,” I apologized. “I asked Jenks to move his family in for the winter after he admitted he usually lost two children to hibernation sickness every spring. They’re driving Ivy and me insane, but I’d rather have no privacy for four months than Jenks starting his spring with tiny coffins.”
    Ceri nodded. “Ivy,” she said softly. “Is she your partner?”
    â€œYup. Just like Jenks,” I said casually to make sure she really understood. Her shifting eyes were cataloging everything, and I slowly moved to the hallway. “Um, Ceri?” I said, hesitating until she started to follow. “Do you want me to call you Ceridwen instead?”
    She peeked down the dark corridor to the dimly lit sanctuary, her gaze following the sounds of pixy children. They were supposed to stay in the front of the church, but they got into everything, and their squeals and shrieks had become commonplace. “Ceri, please.”
    Her personality was thundering back into her faster than I would have believed possible, going from silence to short sentences in a matter of moments. There was a curious mix of modern and old-world charm in her speech that probably came from living with demons so long. She stopped in the threshold of my kitchen, wide-eyed as she took it all in. I didn’t think it was culture shock. Most people had a similar reaction when seeing my kitchen.
    It was huge, with both a gas and an electric stove so I could cook on one and stir spells on the other. The fridge was stainless steel and large enough to put a cow in. There was one sliding window overlooking the snowy garden and graveyard, and my beta, Mr. Fish, swam happily in a brandy snifter on the sill. Fluorescent lights illuminated shiny chrome and expansive counter space that wouldn’t be out of place before the cameras of a cooking show.
    A center island counter overhung with a rack of my spelling equipment and