“Just shut up.” She paced again. She’d opened herself—only for a short time, but that’s all that had been needed. She’d felt that heaviness in the air, the pressure. “Okay, trouble’s coming. I’m not going to pretend I don’t feel it, and I’m not going to pretend I haven’t tried to figure a way to deal with it. Maybe I could, but I won’t bet Zack on it. I’m going to sign up for this, Mia.” She turned back. “But just for this.”

Mia didn’t rub it in. In fact, it didn’t occur to her to do so. “We’ll light the balefires at midnight on Samhain eve. We’ll meet at ten on the Sabbat. Zack already wears Nell’s talisman, but I’d protect your house if I were you. Do you remember how?”

“I know what to do,” Ripley snapped. “Once this passes, things go back the way they were. This is—”

“Yes, I know,” Mia retorted. “A one-time-only.”

Zack had given up on paperwork, given up on his telescope, and pretty much given up on the idea that he could will himself to sleep. He was trying to bore himself to sleep now, by reading one of Ripley’s gun magazines.

Lucy was sprawled beside the bed in a deep sleep that he envied. Every now and then her legs would twitch as she chased dream gulls or swam in her dream inlet. But she lifted her head, one sharp motion, let out a soft, warning woof seconds before Zack heard the front door open.

“Relax, girl. It’s just Ripley.”

At the sound of the name, Lucy was up and scrambling for the door, where she stood wagging her entire body.

“Forget it. It’s too late to play.”

The knock on the bedroom door had Lucy barking joyfully and Zack cursing. “What?”

Lucy whipped herself into happy circles as the door opened, then she leaped enthusiastically on Nell.

Zack shot up in bed. “Lucy, down! Sorry. I thought it was Rip.” He nearly threw back the covers, then remembered he was buck naked. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Nothing.” She bent over to pet Lucy, wondering which of them was more embarrassed, and decided it was a tie. “I just wanted to see you. Talk to you.”

He peeked at the clock, noted it was coming onto midnight. “Why don’t you go downstairs? I’ll be right there.”

“No.” He wasn’t going to treat her like a guest. “This is fine.” She came over, sat on the side of the bed. He still wore the locket, and that meant something. “I made fire tonight.”

He studied her face. “Okay.”

“No.” She laughed a little, and scratched Lucy’s head. “I made it. Not with wood and a match. With magic.”