Somewhat peeved at the reminder of my hair, I led the way into the kitchen, the two men trailing behind. Actually, my hair was the least of my worries. Yesterday I had found a scar with a familiar circle-and-slash pattern on the arch of my left foot; Newt’s claim of a favor. I owed two demons, but I was alive. I was alive and was no one’s familiar. And finding the mark there had been better than waking up with a big N tattooed on my forehead.

David’s steps faltered as he saw the plates of goodies laid out on the table. Ivy’s workspace had been pushed into a three-by-three-foot section, the rest was full of cookies, fudge, cold cuts, and crackers. “Help yourself,” I said, refusing to get worked up about things currently out of my control. “Do you want to nuke your wine before we go out?” I asked, eating a slice of salami. “I’ve got a pitcher to warm it up in.” I could use my new charm, but it wasn’t reliable, and I was tired of burning my tongue.

The clunk of the wine as it hit the table was loud. “You drink it warm?” David said, sounding appalled as he looked at the microwave.

“Ivy and Kisten do.” Seeing the Were hesitate, I gave the pot of spiced cider on the stove a quick stir. “We can warm up half and put the rest in a snow bank if you want,” I added.

“Sure,” David said, his short fingers manipulating the foil-wrapped top.

Howard began filling a plate, but at David’s pointed look, he started. “Mmmm!” the older witch said abruptly, plate in hand. “Mind if I go out back and introduce myself?” He wiggled the twig sandwiched between his hand and the foam plate in explanation. “I haven’t been to a solstice burning in a long time.”

A smile came over me. “Go right on out. The door is through the living room.”

David and Howard exchanged another look, and the witch found his way. I heard a soft rise of voices in greeting as he opened the door. David exhaled slowly. Something was up.

“Rachel,” he said. “I’ve got a paper for you to sign.”

My smile froze. “What did I do?” I blurted. “Was it breaking Lee’s car?”

“No,” he said, and my chest tightened when his eyes dropped. Oh God. It must be bad.

“What is it?” I set the spoon in the sink and turned, gripping my elbows.

David unzipped his coat and pulled out a trifolded paper and handed it to me. Taking his bottle, he started to open it. “You don’t have to sign it if you don’t want to,” he said, glancing at me from under his cowboy hat. “I won’t be offended. Really. You can say no. It’s okay.”