The knock at the bathroom door made me jump, and I set the comb down with a clatter when Ivy’s voice came through the thick door, saying, “Rachel? Can we talk?”

What did she want? “Give me a minute to get dressed?”

“Sure.” There was a moment, then from deeper in the room, louder but muffled, “Do you want something to eat?”

I reached for my underwear, then hesitated. “You mean like room service?” God, I felt like a prisoner, and in a sudden decision, I took Al’s outfit off the hanger instead. Might as well make sure the dress fit.

“No,” she said, voice softer. “I wouldn’t eat anything they bring up now that they know we’re here. If you don’t want cold cuts or fruit, I’ve got Milk Duds.”

Ivy is the one buying the Milk Duds? “Uh, no thanks.” I zipped up the side zipper on my hip, gratified that nothing pinched or bunched when I bent to put on my socks. “You want to see my go-to-trial outfit?” White. Was he serious?

“Sure.”

She sounded depressed, even through the door, and I became worried as I adjusted the sleeveless top over my bare skin. It laced up the back and had a neckline that would show off what little I had to my best advantage, accentuating instead of hiding what wasn’t there.

“I, uh, had three gallons of syrup sent out to the Petrified Forest,” she said, standing by the door by the sound of it.

“You’re kidding! How?”

She was silent, and I imagined her shrugging. “Internet,” she said shortly. “Jenks’s freedom cost us $275, but most of that was to pay for someone to deliver it.”

I couldn’t help my smile. I hadn’t forgotten my promise to the pixies, but leave it to Ivy to know how to arrange it online.

“Have you given any thought to tomorrow?” Ivy asked, her voice hesitant.

I posed in the mirror, stuck out my chest, then slumped and reached for the boots. They were white, too. “All the time.”

“No, I mean really. Have you thought about tomorrow?”

Sitting on the edge of the tub, I slipped the low-heeled boots on. They fit perfectly, and the zipper was well oiled. My estimation of Al knowing what a girl likes went up. I thought of that kiss of his and squinted. “Ivy, I’m just trying to get through tonight. If I don’t make it, then I’m…” I took a breath as I stood and looked at myself. Damn, I looked good. Like a leather teardrop. “Then I’m in the ever-after,” I finished, slightly depressed.

Fear flared up, and I squashed it. I didn’t want to come out of the bathroom wearing leather and stinking of fear. Ivy was good at resisting temptation, but she wasn’t above taking a lick of frosting from the cake before it was served.

Putting the cap on my head, I looked at my reflection, my hair still damp and my skin still holding the glow from the bath. Maybe I shouldn’t call it fear. Maybe it was dread. My throat became tight, and I sent my gaze to the purple scarf. Purple was how a demon showed pride or favor to its familiars, and it made me feel like it was the first day of school, when you know you’re too chicken to stand up for yourself and you don’t have any friends to rely on—all alone and your mother telling you at the car you’d be okay.