Nick made an innocent face, then focused on the blueprints. Pierce was a shadow, silently putting things away exactly where they were supposed to go. It was eerie, and I didn’t know if it was because he’d been in the church for over a year before gaining a body, or if he was a quick study from having watched me get everything out. I appreciated the help, though.

Ankles crossed, Ivy kept her distance, allowing herself the space she needed to calm down. “I want a second plan if something goes wrong,” she said softly. “Rachel can’t use offensive magic or she’ll end up in worse trouble than she is now. I don’t even like the target. A painting? Sounds to me like you’re funding your own retirement island—Nick.”

Nick flipped through the blueprints, shifting only the corners. “If I take something from Trent’s cache, it won’t be a cheap, poorly done canvas,” he muttered.

“Then why are we stealing it?” Jenks flew up when Nick flipped to the page he wanted.

Ivy was silent, and Nick stuck a pencil between his teeth. “Ask Rachel,” he said. “She wanted something embarrassing but not priceless. That’s exactly what it is.” The pencil came out, and he looked at me, turning slightly in his chair. “It was painted in the fifteenth century by a nobody, and Ivy, before you go off on a nut, the reason we’re targeting it is because the subject looks like Trent but is actually a savage prince in the mountains of Carpathia.”

Jenks landed on my shoulder as I put my new pain amulets away. His wings were a depressed blue, cold when they brushed me. “If it were me, I’d burn it,” he said.

“I think he’s proud of it,” Nick said. “Lets him think he comes from evil kings.” Looking up, he shook his head as if I was making a mistake. “Rachel, he’s just going to put you in jail—if you’re lucky. Prison does not equal safety from the coven or him.”

Don’t I know it. Confident, I shut the cupboard door with a thump. “Trent won’t press charges. It’s a game, Nick. Like for fun? We’ve been stealing things from each other and giving them back since before you hot-wired your first car.” Oh God, what if I was wrong?

Jenks’s wings hummed to life, sending the scent of burning leaves over me. “Like when he took your ring and mailed it back! I still don’t know how he did that.”

“Or me stealing his hoof pick,” I said, feeling a flash of guilt quickly followed by a surge of anxiety. “It’s the same thing, and as long as I give it back …”He wouldn’t press charges, but it would get his attention, and that’s what I wanted.