My breath hissed in as the force Ceri had put in the circle flowed into me. I screamed as a new wave of fire coated my skin. It ran from where I first touched the field, flowing like liquid to cover me. Pain searched for my center. It found it, and I screamed again, twisting out of Al’s grip as it found my chi full and bursting. The ever-after rebounded, scouring through me to settle in the only place it could force room: my head. Sooner or later it would be too much and I’d go insane.

I clenched into myself. The rough sidewalk scraped my thigh and shoulder as I convulsed. Slowly it became bearable, and I was able to stop screaming. The last one trailed off into a moan that silenced the dogs. Oh God, I was dying. I was dying from the inside out.

“Please,” I begged Ceri, knowing she couldn’t hear me. “Don’t do that again.”

Al yanked me upright. “You’re an excellent familiar,” he encouraged, his face split in a wide grin. “I’m so proud of you. You managed to stop screaming again. I think I’ll make you a cup of tea when we get home and let you nap before I show you off to my friends.”

“No…” I whispered, and Al chuckled at my defiance even before the word escaped me. I could have no thoughts without him knowing them first. Now I realized why Ceri had numbed her emotion, preferring to have none rather than share them with Al.

“Wait,” Ceri said, her voice ringing clear over the snow as she ran down the porch steps, past the chain-link fence, and into the yard before us.

I sagged in Al’s grip as he stopped to look at her. Her voice flowed over me, soothing my skin and mind alike. My eyes warmed at the hint of respite from the pain, and I almost sobbed in relief. She looked like a goddess. She granted release from pain.

“Ceri,” Al said warmly, his attention only half on David as he circled us, his hackles raised and a frightening savagery in his eyes. “You’re looking well, love.” His eyes traveled over the elaborate castle of snow behind her. “Miss your homeland?”

“I am Ceridwen Merriam Dulciate,” she said, the command in her voice like a whip. “I’m not your familiar. I have a soul. Give me the respect that calls for.”

Al snickered. “I see you found your ego. How does it feel to be growing old again?”

I saw her stiffen. She came to stand before us, and I could see her guilt. “I don’t fear it anymore,” she said softy, and I wondered if an unaging life was what Al had lured her into being his familiar with. “It’s the way of the world. Let Rachel Mariana Morgan go.”