“Tink’s contractual hell, you still think he’s telling the truth about the coven?” Jenks exclaimed at the whisper of doubt in my voice. “He just tried to kill you!”

“I know!” I shouted, and Jenks flew backward in surprise to Ivy. “Don’t you think I know that? But I can’t figure him out!”

“What’s to figure out?” Nick said dryly. “He’s a liar. He’s always been a liar, and he will always be a liar.”

Frustrated, I opened up the box and took out the hoof pick, looking at it like it was a puzzle box. “Trent was that same mix of ruthless bastard and sympathetic best friend at camp that he is now. And I think I helped make him that way. Apparently I won the bet, though.”

I lifted the exquisite hoof pick and handed it to Pierce, figuring he’d be interested in it. I wondered if Trent sneaking in to take my ring last year was because I had stolen his pick. Maybe he wanted it back? He had given me my ring back—and not in my toilet.

Nick shook his head in warning and I gave him a mirthless smile as I rubbed my aching arms. It was as if my childhood fatigue had soaked back in and wasn’t leaving. I was so messed up. And what was it with Trent’s pattern of taking my stuff only to give it back?

Ivy picked up the empty plate and moved to the door. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, you were blue, Rache,” Jenks chimed in.

Flexing my fingers, I felt the lack of strength. Cripes, she’d almost broken them.

Without warning, a high-pitched barrage of near-ultrasonic pixy voices rose, shrill at the front of the church. In a flash of silver dust, Jenks darted out. My eyes touched on Pierce’s, and he was gone as well, his feet thumping on the oak flooring to the front of the church. Ivy was a step behind, almost shoving Nick out of the way.

Eyes wide, I stared at Nick, jumping when I felt two people tap into the ley line out back. This wasn’t pixy mischief. We were being attacked!

Pierce’s voice rang out from the front of the church, and then a crash of glass. Shit. He was yelling in Latin.