She sounded like a little girl, but she couldn’t help herself. Pick didn’t seem to notice. He brushed at a flurry of stray snowflakes that fell into his face. “Would you mind stepping out of the weather a bit?” he asked irritably. “Would that be asking too much?”
She retreated back into the shelter of the trees and brush where the big limbs and trunks deflected most of the falling snow. Shadows enfolded them, and a scattering of feeder eyes appeared.
“Start at the beginning,” he ordered, “and let’s see if I can make any sense out of what you’ve got to say!”
She told him everything that had happened from the time Larry Spence had appeared at the house—the breaching of the sylvan’s security net, the children’s disappearance, Findo Cask’s phone call, and her effort to send Wraith into the park in search of him. She told him that she would try to free the children from where Findo Gask had concealed them in the old house on West Third, hoping to catch the demons off guard.
“But I need someone to check for traps he might have set to warn of anyone trying to get into the house. I need someone to go inside and find out where the children are hidden. I need you, Pick.”
He was uncharacteristically silent in the aftermath of her plea. He sat in the cup of her hands, worrying stray threads of his mossy beard with his mouth and mumbling inaudibly. She let him be; there was nothing more she could say to persuade him.
“Too bad about that fellow opening your bedroom window,” he said finally. “But if Gask wanted the children that bad, he probably would have come after them anyway. That was what he was trying to do last night. I don’t expect the security net would have stopped him.”
She nodded silently.
“Demons,” he muttered.
She waited.
“I don’t like going out of the park,” he declared. He held up his hands quickly when she tried to speak. “Not that I don’t do so now and then, when there’s need for it.” He huffed. “I don’t much like going into strange houses, either. You sure you don’t want to let go of this thing? You might be better off if you did. Four demons are a lot to overcome, even with a Knight of the Word helping out. I know you. You’re stubborn. But you can’t fight everyone’s battles. You can’t save the entire world.”
“Pick,” she said softly, bending close to him, so she could see his pinprick eyes. “I can’t explain exactly why I have to do this, but I do. I feel it the way you feel a breach in the magic. I know it’s the right thing. Harper’s all alone, and there’s something about Little John, something that has to do with me.”
He snorted.
“This is important to me, Pick. I have to go after those children. With or without your help, I have to.”
“Since when have you ever done anything where demons and magic were concerned without my help?” he demanded in exasperation. “Look, I’ll do this. I’ll sweep the grounds and walls and doors and windows for traps and snares and have a look inside to find those kids. But when I’m finished, if I tell you it can’t be done, that’s the end of it. Fair enough?”
“Deal,” she said.
He spit over his shoulder. “Now, what’s this nonsense about losing Wraith? You can’t lose magic once it’s given to you. It doesn’t just go wandering off by itself. You have to use it up or pass it on or set it free or cast it away. Did you do any of those?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I didn’t do anything. I just sent him out to attract your attention, then there was this snapping inside, this feeling of something breaking loose, and I couldn’t feel him anymore.”
Pick shrugged. “Well, I don’t know about that, but I do know he’s standing right over there, looking at you.”
She glanced quickly to where he was pointing. Sure enough, Wraith was standing in the shelter of the trees in the Peterson backyard, as still as stone, tiger face lowered, bright eyes staring at her. She stared back in surprise and disbelief. What was he doing?