A last look at the instructions to be sure I had everything at the counter, and I kicked off a sandal. “Where’s your cat, Jenks?” I said, not wanting to trap her in with me.

He took to the air. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty…” he called, and with a chirping trill, her orange face appeared at the hall archway. She was licking her lips, but Jenks wasn’t troubled.

“Rhombus,” I said softly, touching my toe to the salt circle. The single word of Latin invoked a hard-won series of mental exercises that condensed the five-minute prep and invocation of setting a circle into an instant. I stifled a jerk as the circle closed with a snap. Jenks’s wings whirled as a molecule-thin sheet of ever-after rose up between us to keep any influences out while I worked the medicinal-class ley line charm. I was impulsive, not stupid.

Rex padded in, rubbing against the barrier as if it were covered in catnip. I’d take that as a sign that she might want to be my familiar—if she didn’t run every time I tried to pick her up.

I grimaced at the ugly black sheen of demon smut crawling over my bubble, discoloring the usual cheerful gold of my aura. It was a visual display of the imbalance I carried on my soul, a reminder of the debt I owed for having twisted reality so far out of alignment that I could become a wolf and Jenks grew to human size. The discoloration was nothing compared to the thousand years of demon-curse imbalance that Ceri carried, but it bothered me.

All but the smallest amount of ever-after energy I had tapped had gone into maintaining the circle, but there was the tingle of a new buildup of force filtering in. It would continue to grow until I let go of the line completely. Many witches were said to have gone insane from trying to stretch what their chi could hold by allowing the pressure to build beyond what they could safely contain, but when my chi overflowed, I could spindle the line energy in my head. Demons could do the same, and their familiars. Ceri and I were the only two people this side of the lines who could spindle line energy. That we had survived Al with the knowledge intact hadn’t been the demon’s intent. Ceri had taught me the basics, but Al was the one who’d stretched my tolerances and made the skill second nature—by way of an excruciating amount of pain.

“Ah, Rachel?” Jenks said, green-tinted sparkles slipping from him to pool in the sink. “It’s worse than usual.”

My good mood vanished, and I frowned at the demon smut. “Yeah, well, I’m trying to get rid of it,” I muttered, then pulled my sketched pentagram forward.