The police took down her report and said they would stay in touch. They didn’t have any news at their end, which was probably all to the good. Nest still hoped that Bennett would walk through the door on her own, high on drugs or not. She still believed she could help Bennett without involving the police.
But then, while hanging up her coat, which she had tossed aside last night on coming in, she found Bennett’s note in the pocket.
Dear Nest,
I am sorry to run off like this, leaving Harper with you, but I have to get away. I used last night, and I know I will use again in a little while. I don’t want to, but I can’t help myself. I guess I am hopeless. I don’t like Harper to be around me when I am using, so I am leaving her with you. I guess maybe I planned to leave her with you all along. I can’t take care of her anymore, and I can’t leave her with strangers either. Guess that leaves you. Please take care of her, big sister. I trust you. Harper is all 1 have, and I want to keep her safe and not have her grow up like me. When I am better, I will come back for her. Tell her I love her and will think of her every day. I’m sorry for causing so much trouble. I love you.
Bennett
Nest read the note several times, trying to think what to do. But there was really nothing she could do. Bennett could be anywhere, with anyone. She didn’t like to speculate on the possibilities. She did not have any difficulty with the idea of looking after Harper, although she had no way of knowing how the little girl would react when she found out her mother had left her. It had happened before, but that didn’t mean it would make things any easier this time.
Mike the electrician wandered up from the basement long enough to announce that he would have everything up and running within the hour, so she left the children in Ross’s care, put on her parka, and went out into the park in search of Pick.
He wasn’t hard to find. As she trudged across her backyard and into the snowy expanse of the ballpark flats, he soared out of the deep woods east aboard Jonathan. The sky was iron gray and hard as nails. The clouds settled low and threatening above the earth, as if snow might reappear at any moment. Mist filtered through the woods from off the frozen river, long tendrils snaking about the trunks and branches and wandering off into the bordering subdivisions and roadways. The park was empty this day, leaving Nest a solitary watcher as the dark specks that were Pick and Jonathan slowly took on definition with their approach.
The owl swung wide of Nest, then settled in an oak bordering the roadway. Pick climbed off and began to make his way down the trunk. He moved with quick, jerky motions, like a foraging squirrel, dropping from branch to branch, circling the trunk when a better path was needed, stopping every so often to look around. Jonathan folded his broad wings into his body, tucked his head into his shoulders, and became a part of the tree.
Nest walked over and waited until Pick was low enough to jump from the branches onto her shoulder, where he sat huffing from the effort.
“Confound that owl, anyway!” he complained. “You’d think he’d be willing to land on a lower branch, wouldn’t you? For an owl, he’s a bit on the slow side.”
She turned around and sat down in the snow with her back against the tree. “I need your help.”
“So what’s new?” The sylvan chuckled, pleased with his attempt at humor. “Can you think of a time when you didn’t need my help?”
He chuckled some more. It was a rather frightening sound, given that it emanated from a stick figure only six inches high.
Nest sighed, determined not to be baited into an argument. “I need you to concoct some antidemon magic. Something on the order of what you use to protect the trees in the park when there’s something attacking them.”