Silver and ebony meshed in a sharply angular pattern that never seemed to repeat and, indeed, seemed to change with the light, making a mesmerizing pattern that would get anyone to stare even if Jenks didn’t look like a million bucks in it.

“You sure you don’t want me to harvest more of that yew?” Jenks asked as he came to stand on the spigot. “The gargoyles out there don’t bother me.”

I smiled and ran the now-warm water into the nested spell pots. “No. I’d rather wait. Friday sunrise is the equinox.”

Jenks nodded, jingling his bells when Rex padded in with Belle on her shoulders. “Je-e-enks-s-s-s,” she hissed, her angular features drawn up in annoyance. “I told you to take that off. Those are not fighting clothes-s-s.”

“It’s black, I’m wearing it,” he said, his wings blurring to invisibility. “I don’t have anything else to put on.”

That wasn’t entirely accurate, and I hid a smile and moved the graduated cylinders and mortar to the sink, piling them in the sudsy spell pots. Wringing out the saltwater-soaked rag, I began wiping down my spell-prep area, thinking it rather useless when half of Jenks’s brood was up there, dusting heavily.

“The tails-s-s are too long. If an enemy catches it, he will have you at a dis-s-sadvantage,” she said. “The buttons are too large. They glint in the light. The bells-s-s will give you away.”

I nodded, agreeing with her, and Jenks began to look worried. “I can muffle the bells,” he said, tugging the coat straight. “I like it, fairy woman! I’m wearing it!”

“Your vanity will be your death,” she hissed at him, and Jenks put his hands on his hips.

“Yeah?”

Scowling, Belle nudged Rex toward the door, but the fluffy yellow cat purred her way to me instead, coming to twine about my feet and beg for some attention. Seeing her intent, Belle slipped off, shaking her clothes straight and adjusting the bow across her back.

Jenks flew to the center counter where Belle couldn’t see him from the floor. “Are you sure all this is going to work?” he asked, looking over the assembled charms and spells.

“As long as I can keep your kids’ dust out of them,” I said, then bent down to pick Rex up. “Hi, sweetheart,” I crooned, trying to distract the cat from the pixies arguing over the gumdrop they had found left over from solstice cookie decorations. “I can’t pet you right now. I’m still cleaning the kitchen.”