Queen of the Sylphs by L. J. McDonald Page B

lock. The door swung wide.
    Heyou stood there, in human form, grinning in a way that would have terrified Devon even if he didn’t already instinctively fear battle sylphs. He knew he shouldn’t, that none of the Valley battlers had any reason to hurt him, but he’d experienced their hate aura too many times and had even seen this particular battler fight. The town of Devon’s father had nearly been decimated in the process.
    And, Heyou’s grin had far too many teeth. Airi pressed herself against the back of Devon’s neck, a freezing chill, just as frightened as he.
    “Hi!” Heyou said, probably knowing exactly what Devon was feeling but not caring. “Since you’re leaving and everything, I was wondering if you were interested in being the father of my baby?”
    Rachel sighed wearily as she swept the floor of the classroom. The children were restless, and it had been a long day. More, her arthritis was acting up and her hands ached where they held the broom. Tonight she’d have to ask Claw to make dinner and then rub some ointment into her hands.
    She smiled slightly. He was wonderfully adept, and in many ways she preferred that kind of intimacy to his making love to her. It wasn’t that she didn’t like his more physical attentions. At her age, she hadn’t expected to have any kind of man’s touch again, and Claw did make her feel very young. And he was doing so much better now. He was still shy, but he was trying harder and his confidence was building. When she could draw him out of his shell, which was happening more and more frequently, he was a wonderful conversationalist. Overall, Claw was a good soul, and he didn’t deserve what had been done to him.
    “Let me do that . . . for you.” Slimmer, younger hands reached for the broom. Sala, her new assistant, smiled and started to sweep the floor. “There’s tea in the back room for you. Rest. I’ll finish up here.”
    Rachel gave the young woman a grateful look. Most of the sylphs took classes at night while everyone else slept, but some preferred the day, and there were so many students who needed to learn. Children, adults . . . And there were just so few teachers available. When Sala volunteered to help, it had been a blessing. The young woman didn’t seem to have the compassion needed to be a good instructor for the little ones, but she controlled the older children with ease. None of her classes were unruly. All Sala’s students were quiet and well behaved.
    “Thank you, Sala,” she said. Slowly making her way out of the classroom and down the dark hallway to the tiny kitchen at the back of the school, Rachel rubbed her sore hands. Everyone was gone now, and the halls echoed strangely, the soft susurration of Sala’s broom in the classroom behind her the only accompaniment to the shuffling of her feet on the polished wood.
    The kitchen was a spare room overlooking the back garden, with a fireplace equipped with a pole that a kettle could be hung on. The windows were large, and Rachel sat down in the light of the setting sun, reaching for the fat pot of tea that had been left to steep on a tray in the middle of the small staff table. Sala had even set out a mug and a pot of honey, along with a small plate of cookies. Thanking whatever kind deity brought the woman, Rachel poured herself a mug and added a dollop of honey. Sitting back, she took a relishing sip and sighed.
    Sala could have arranged to have her own apartment, but it suited her to stay with her friend. She arrived back at Gabralina’s shortly before dark. Letting herself in, she found her roommate wasn’t back yet. She put down her bag and went into the back room. Wat was sprawled across the bed, his legs and feet up against the wall, his head hanging over the side. He turned toward her. His coat was unbuttoned and wrinkled.
    “Hello, Wat,” she said. “Where’s Gabby?”
    He shrugged slowly, watching her upside down. “Working. Something to do with food. She’ll be back