“It’s okay,” I said. There was no way in hell I was going to try to explain to Stacey that I’d nearly gotten myself killed saving her stupid life with an invisible bullwhip of mental energy. Other than the members of the coven, no mundane human could have guessed what had happened there. “I’m just glad no one but Jojo . . .” A lump rose to my throat, and I couldn’t finish the thought.

“I know,” Sinclair said softly, touching the sprig of joe-pye weed drooping over his breast pocket. “She was a brave little thing.”

“She was a foulmouthed, obnoxious little shit, and I’ll miss her.” I rubbed my eyes and nodded at the seemingly empty pickle jar that Sinclair held tight in his other hand. “So what happens now?”

“I’ll take my grandfather’s spirit home and lay it to rest where his bones are buried,” Sinclair said in a grim voice. “And I’ll tell my mother and my sister that if they want me to have any part of their lives, they’ll never, ever threaten me or the people I care about again.”

“Amen, brother,” Casimir murmured.

“Is it safe?” I asked. “I mean . . . isn’t going back to Jamaica exactly what they wanted you to do?”

“Oh, I’m not staying.” Sinclair hoisted the pickle jar, contemplating it. “And after tonight, there’s no way they can make me.”

“Young Mr. Palmer here showed a considerable amount of strength tonight, Miss Daisy,” Casimir said to me. “And gained a considerable amount of power in the process.”

Interesting.

But speaking of strength and power, now that everything was under control, I was feeling the acute drain on my own reserves. Also, Bethany Cassopolis was staring at my throat, a spark of vampiric hypnosis in her gaze. Feeling my pulse quicken under her gaze, I kindled my shield with an effort. “What?”

“Nothing,” Bethany said unapologetically. “It’s just that I’m hungry. And you smell . . . interesting.” She smiled, showing the tips of her fangs. “Funny, I never noticed how cute you were.”

Gah! And yet . . . goddamn eldritch Kinsey scale. My shield flickered as I stared at my best friend’s sister’s gleaming fangs, trying not to imagine them piercing my skin.

“Okay, ew!” Jen said in a firm tone. “Beth, cut it out. If Chief Bryant’s done yelling at the Easties, I’m taking Brandon home and you’re riding with me.”

“You’re my ride,” I reminded her.

“I’ll drive you,” Lee offered.

“Will you give me a ride?” Stacey Brooks asked Sinclair in a pleading voice. “I’m too shaky to drive.”

I laughed again; and again, I couldn’t help it. At least it was only a little hysterical this time. Sinclair gave me an uncertain look. “It’s okay,” I said to him. “It’s fine. Go. Take her home.”