it.
With a stifled yell for strength, he jammed his sword into the canister. The hard pixy steel went right through. His elder children had fairy steel, taken from invaders testing their strength. Jenks’s blade was stronger, and the thin sheet of metal was nothing. Grinning as he imagined it was an invading fairy he had just pierced, Jenks put his foot on can for support and pulled the sword out, darting back to avoid the sudden stream flowing out and arching into the bowl…just as he had planned.
Wiping his sword on the rag over the sink, Jenks listened to the changing sound to estimate how full the bowl was getting. Little splashes spotted the counter, and he dropped to the floor, slipping into the cupboards by way of the open space at the footboard.
It was a weird world of wooden supports and domesticity behind the cupboards, and using his arms as much as his wings, he maneuvered himself to the kitchen’s catch-all drawer. Vaulting into the shallow space, Jenks hunched over, vibrating his wings to create some light as he moved to the front, dodging dead batteries and mangled twist ties until he found the spool of plumber’s putty. The trip out was faster, and eyeing Bis and Jumoke standing on the counter and panicking about the rising level of lighter fluid, he expertly plugged the hole.
“More than one way to empty a can,” he said, vertigo taking him when the flow stopped and the fumes hit him hard. “Don’t get too close, Jumoke. I swear, this is the worst part.”
“It stinks like a fairy’s funeral pyre,” the boy said, plugging his nose and backing up.
Standing on the counter beside his son, Bis looked huge. There was a bottle of soap in his grip, and the gargoyle easily wedged the top open. Jenks could have done it, but it would have been a lot harder. “How much?” Bis asked, poised to squirt it out.
Still reeling, Jenks covered his eyes, now streaming a silver dust as his tears hit the air and tuned dry. “Put it in the empty bowl. I’ll say when.”
“Rachel’s spell bowl?” Bis said, hesitating.
“It’s soap!” Jenks barked, rubbing his eyes and staggering until Jumoke grabbed his shoulder. Holy crap, it was nasty stuff until it all got mixed together.
The squirt bottle made a rude sound as it emptied, and feeling better, Jenks peeked over the edge to see how much they had. “That’s good,” he said, and Bis capped the bottle by smacking the tip on the counter. “Jumoke, see the proportion to the lighter fluid? Now all we need is the nitrogen and the pixy dust. Lots of nitrogen to make the boom intense.”
“Fertilizer,” Jumoke said. “In the shed?” he asked, and when Jenks nodded, Jumoke rose up. “I’ll check.”
In an instant, he was gone. Glancing out the night-darkened window, Jenks watched Jumoke’s arrow-straight path, the sifting dust falling to make a gold shadow of where he’d been. His siblings called out for him to join them, but Jumoke never even looked.
Pleased, Jenks turned to find Bis trying to get the fridge open by wedging a long claw between the seals. It felt good to be teaching someone his skills. Tink knew that Jax had been a disappointment, but Jumoke was genuinely interested. He already knew how to read.
Leaning against the bowl of soap, Jenks scratched the base of his wings, watching Bis hang from a fridge shelf with one hand and pull out a tinfoil-covered leftover with the other. His claws scrabbled on the linoleum when he dropped, and Jenks wasn’t surprised when Bis shook the leftover lasagna into the trash under the sink and ate the tinfoil instead.
The rasping sound of teeth on metal made him shudder. Black dust sifted from him, and seeing it, Bis shrugged, crawling back up onto his elevated seat before Ivy’s computer. “A gargoyle doesn’t live on pigeon alone,” he said, and Jenks winced.
Pushing off into the air, Jenks rose into the hanging utensils for his own snack. There was a pouch of sweets for the kids in the smallest
With a stifled yell for strength, he jammed his sword into the canister. The hard pixy steel went right through. His elder children had fairy steel, taken from invaders testing their strength. Jenks’s blade was stronger, and the thin sheet of metal was nothing. Grinning as he imagined it was an invading fairy he had just pierced, Jenks put his foot on can for support and pulled the sword out, darting back to avoid the sudden stream flowing out and arching into the bowl…just as he had planned.
Wiping his sword on the rag over the sink, Jenks listened to the changing sound to estimate how full the bowl was getting. Little splashes spotted the counter, and he dropped to the floor, slipping into the cupboards by way of the open space at the footboard.
It was a weird world of wooden supports and domesticity behind the cupboards, and using his arms as much as his wings, he maneuvered himself to the kitchen’s catch-all drawer. Vaulting into the shallow space, Jenks hunched over, vibrating his wings to create some light as he moved to the front, dodging dead batteries and mangled twist ties until he found the spool of plumber’s putty. The trip out was faster, and eyeing Bis and Jumoke standing on the counter and panicking about the rising level of lighter fluid, he expertly plugged the hole.
“More than one way to empty a can,” he said, vertigo taking him when the flow stopped and the fumes hit him hard. “Don’t get too close, Jumoke. I swear, this is the worst part.”
“It stinks like a fairy’s funeral pyre,” the boy said, plugging his nose and backing up.
Standing on the counter beside his son, Bis looked huge. There was a bottle of soap in his grip, and the gargoyle easily wedged the top open. Jenks could have done it, but it would have been a lot harder. “How much?” Bis asked, poised to squirt it out.
Still reeling, Jenks covered his eyes, now streaming a silver dust as his tears hit the air and tuned dry. “Put it in the empty bowl. I’ll say when.”
“Rachel’s spell bowl?” Bis said, hesitating.
“It’s soap!” Jenks barked, rubbing his eyes and staggering until Jumoke grabbed his shoulder. Holy crap, it was nasty stuff until it all got mixed together.
The squirt bottle made a rude sound as it emptied, and feeling better, Jenks peeked over the edge to see how much they had. “That’s good,” he said, and Bis capped the bottle by smacking the tip on the counter. “Jumoke, see the proportion to the lighter fluid? Now all we need is the nitrogen and the pixy dust. Lots of nitrogen to make the boom intense.”
“Fertilizer,” Jumoke said. “In the shed?” he asked, and when Jenks nodded, Jumoke rose up. “I’ll check.”
In an instant, he was gone. Glancing out the night-darkened window, Jenks watched Jumoke’s arrow-straight path, the sifting dust falling to make a gold shadow of where he’d been. His siblings called out for him to join them, but Jumoke never even looked.
Pleased, Jenks turned to find Bis trying to get the fridge open by wedging a long claw between the seals. It felt good to be teaching someone his skills. Tink knew that Jax had been a disappointment, but Jumoke was genuinely interested. He already knew how to read.
Leaning against the bowl of soap, Jenks scratched the base of his wings, watching Bis hang from a fridge shelf with one hand and pull out a tinfoil-covered leftover with the other. His claws scrabbled on the linoleum when he dropped, and Jenks wasn’t surprised when Bis shook the leftover lasagna into the trash under the sink and ate the tinfoil instead.
The rasping sound of teeth on metal made him shudder. Black dust sifted from him, and seeing it, Bis shrugged, crawling back up onto his elevated seat before Ivy’s computer. “A gargoyle doesn’t live on pigeon alone,” he said, and Jenks winced.
Pushing off into the air, Jenks rose into the hanging utensils for his own snack. There was a pouch of sweets for the kids in the smallest
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