“Tink’s titties!” Jenks was saying, darting up and down, making me nauseous. “Rache, you’re not calling him, are you?”

“Watch me.” My fingers trembled as I punched in the numbers. I was so pissed. How dare he. How dare he give me a charm and try to kill me with it. Was this his backhanded way of threatening me? Do what he wanted or else? He hadn’t changed at all from the brat of a boy demanding I hold his horse’s head when there was a post only two feet away.

“Don’t call him! He’ll know it didn’t work!” Jenks shouted, and I waved him back. The pixy’s wings clattered noisily, but then went quiet. “You know his number by heart?”

Yes, I had Trent Kalamack’s number memorized. Sort of like when you remember the name of the kid who beat you up in the third grade. Some things you don’t forget.

“Quiet. I want to hear,” Ivy demanded as the phone rang, and my anger tightened when Jenks landed on my shoulder. Together we listened to the line click open.

“Kalamack Industries,” the woman said, but I couldn’t tell if it was Sara Jane or if she’d gotten smart and run away. “How may I help you?”

A thousand smart-ass answers went through my head, but my eyes on Ivy’s, I managed, “This is Rachel Morgan—”

“Yes, Ms. Morgan,” she interrupted. “Mr. Kalamack has been waiting for your call.”

“I’ll bet,” I said, but she’d already put me on hold. If there was elevator music, I was going to scream.

“Rachel!” Trent’s voice came clear and clean, a hint of warmth to it that slid out of the professional into genuine pleasure.

“You son of a bastard!” I exclaimed, and Jenks snorted.

There was a slight hesitation, then, “I take it this isn’t a social call?” Trent said dryly, his entire mood shifting.

How could he sit there like nothing had happened? “It didn’t work, you bastard. I’m still alive, and you’d better start watching your back. I should have let you rot in the ever-after, you son of a bitch!”

“Still alive?”

I’d give him one thing. He hid his smugness well. “The Pandora charm?” I supplied to jiggle his conveniently faulty memory. “It was us riding your horse at camp. You’re scum, Trent!”

“I didn’t try to kill you. You fell off!” he said indignantly.

He thought I was talking about the memory? “Not the horse!” I said, suddenly unsure. “Your spell! It almost killed me. The memory ended with me lying on the ground with the breath knocked out of me, and it froze everything. I couldn’t breathe when the charm ended. I could have died! If you can’t have me, no one will, huh? What in hell is wrong with you!”