“No; you can go.” I needed to think about this—but later, after the night-haunts had come and gone. Assuming I was still thinking about anything by that point.

“Noted,” she said, and vanished in a spray of sparks.

“What the . . .” Connor began.

“Dryad who lives in the local computer network,” said Quentin, sounding disinterested. I had to smother another snicker. The kid was definitely learning about playing blasé.

“She’s Jan’s adopted daughter,” I said, bouncing the bag she’d handed me to check the weight before I looked inside. It contained candles and feathers, just like she’d said. Normal Dryads can’t take things with them when they teleport. The Tuatha can, but their method of teleportation is more direct—they open doors between places, rather than actually disappearing and then reappearing somewhere else. The fact that April could move physical objects said a lot about just how much Jan’s procedure had changed her. “Take a look at this, will you?”

Both of them walked over to me, but it was Quentin who reached for the bag. I let him take it. He looked inside, then up at me, asking, “What about it?”

“Does it seem normal to you?”

“Um . . . yeah. Why?”

“Because April brought it with her when she tele-ported in.”

Connor frowned. “Weird.”

“Just like everything else about this place.” I reclaimed the bag, putting it down on the counter. “You guys want to help me move the tables?”

“Just tell us where,” said Connor, and smiled.

I smiled back. “Get ’em up against the walls.” Moving to an empty table, I started to push. Connor and Quentin nodded before doing the same.

The tables proved to be surprisingly light; plastic is a wonderful thing. We worked in comfortable silence for a while, moving the tables against the walls and stacking the chairs in tidy piles. I was going to need a lot of space if I wanted to make a circle large enough to be secure.

We were almost done when Elliot pushed open the cafeteria door, Gordan close behind him. Both of them were carrying armloads of dried flowers; Gordan had almost vanished behind her heap of foliage, leaving nothing but the white-topped crest of her hair visible.

Looking up, I nodded. “Great. Put those on the counter.”

“I’m sorry it took so long, but your list was very specific, and—”

“It’s all right. We still have . . .” I glanced up at the clock over the door. “Almost an hour before the sun goes down. That’s plenty of time to set up the circle.” I straightened, planting my hands in the center of my back as I stretched, then walked over to pick up the sea salt. “Quentin, get the candles. Connor, the juniper berries.” They nodded, moving to do as they’d been asked.