Ceri gestured that I should join her in her circle, but I couldn’t chance that Al might hurt her in the instant it would take to reform it. Al, though, was preoccupied with his own thoughts.

“This isn’t right,” he mumbled. “I’ve done this before with hundreds of witches with souls and it’s never forged a bond this strong. What’s so different about…”

My stomach dropped as all visible emotion drained from him. He glanced at the clock above the sink, then me. “Come here, little witch.”

“No.”

He pressed his lips together and stood.

Gasping, I backpedaled, but he had my wrist and pulled me to the island counter. “You’ve done this spell before,” he said as he squeezed my pricked finger, making it bleed again. “When you made Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos your familiar. It was your blood in the brew, little witch, that invoked it?”

“You know it was.” I was too drained to be frightened anymore. “You were there.” I couldn’t see his eyes, but my reflection in his glasses looked ugly and pale with wet stringy hair.

“And it worked,” he said thoughtfully. “It didn’t just bind you, it bound you tight enough for you to draw a line through him?”

“That’s why he left,” I said, surprised I could still feel the pain.

“Your blood kindled the spell fully….” Speculation was thick in his goat eyes as he looked at me from over his glasses. He drew my hand up, and though I tried to wiggle free of him, he licked the blood from my finger with a cold, tingling sensation. “So subtly scented,” he breathed, his eyes never leaving mine. “Like perfumed air your lover has walked through.”

“Let go,” I said, pushing at him.

“You should be dead,” he said, his voice full of wonder. “How is it that you’re still alive?”

Jaw clenched, I worked at his grip on me, trying to get my fingers between him and my wrist. “I work hard at it.” With a gasp, I fell back as he released his hold.

“You work hard at it.” Smiling, he took a step back and gave me a once-over. “The mad have a grace all their own. I must go start a study group.”

Frightened, I hunched over my wrist and held it.

“And I will have the likes of you as my own, Rachel Mariana Morgan. Count on it.”

“I’m not going into the ever-after,” I said tightly. “You’ll have to kill me first.”

“You don’t have a choice,” he intoned, chilling me. “You tap a line when the sun is down, and I’ll find you. You can’t make the circle that can keep me out. If you aren’t on holy ground, I’ll beat you silly and drag you into the ever-after. And from there, you will not escape.”