Taken aback, I spun, the ring of flowers falling from me to land in the dry moat between us. “Kill me?” I said, unheard over the rising complaints. “Are you nuts?”

“I can’t think straight, my head is ringing so badly from the lines!” one demon shouted as he stood, getting a round of agreements before he sat down in vindication.

“I was in the middle of some work, and I lost it all!” a second exclaimed. “You owe me restitution for a week’s work down the crapper!”

Al’s brow was furrowed. “My student is not responsible for your failure to record your curses in the collective,” he said, and Dali nodded his agreement.

“We have a problem,” a third said, a band of blue fabric draped over his shoulders. His voice was firm, and I wondered who he was. “The imbalance is impacting everything. It took two of you to summon her through the lines. Two! That’s not normal. And it’s getting worse!”

I took a step forward. “Well, that was because of Trent,” I said, and Al jabbed me with his elbow to shut up.

Newt and Dali pulled their attention from the rising noise behind me. “Trent tried to block our summons?” Newt asked, her long legs showing from under her toga before she tugged it to cover them.

“It’s never taken a collective to summon anyone!” the demon with the blue sash said loudly, enjoying the attention his claim had brought him. “The ever-after is falling apart!”

The sky is falling, the sky is falling, I thought derisively, and Newt shifted her feet to the floor, her expression seeming to mirror my thoughts.

“This is pointless,” Newt said as she poised almost coyly. “Stay on track, gentlemen. Rachel, love, can you fix the line?”

I didn’t like being called “love,” especially not by her, but I let it pass. “No,” I said sullenly.

“Of course she can!” Al shouted to drown out the immediate complaints, his hands raised pleadingly as he shot me a glare. “We need more time, is all.”

“We have no time!” Ku’Sox asserted, aggressively riling them up. “She broke the balance. Killing her will fix it.”

“It will not!” I exclaimed, but Al’s wince and Dali’s sudden deflation as he sat down made me wonder. “It won’t, will it?” I asked Al softly, and the demon made a long, drawn-out, regretful noise of possibility.

Dali leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, ignoring the rising noise behind us for a moment. “Unfortunately it might,” he said to me, giving the demons time to argue. “Lines created from a jump between reality and the ever-after are permanent, for the most part, but lines made from a reality-to-reality jump are not, and killing you might erase it.”