“Shoot her! Shoot the vampire!” Oliver demanded, and Wyatt peeked from around the bathroom door. His range wasn’t as wide as he probably liked, and he needed to expose himself if he wanted to get a good shot at me. But it wasn’t me he was aiming at, and I threw a vase at him. My eyes narrowed when it bounced off a quickly invoked circle and broke on the tile. Either he was used to the crappy lines here or he was using a familiar.

Peeved, Wyatt shot at me, and I ducked back, but it gave Ivy the second she needed to find cover. She was beautiful with adrenaline as she slid back to me, rocking to a crouched halt in the lee of the TV. “I got you something,” she said, smiling as she handed me Amanda’s gun, and my gaze darted to Amanda, out cold. The spell wasn’t breaking as fast as I thought it might. Must be strong stuff. I bet she’d be ticked for having been taken out by one of Oliver’s spells. Again.

“Thanks,” I said as I hefted the weapon, then squeezed off a couple of shots in the general direction of the kitchen and bath, just to let them know I had it. “Hey!” I shouted, still eying Amanda. “What you got in these splat balls, boys?” I asked. “Is Amanda going to be okay, or should we call a time-out?”

“Cover me!” Oliver screamed at Leon, and Ivy snickered at the young witch’s refusal. Just because you’re good at magic doesn’t mean you like to risk your life. Wyatt poked his head out, and I shot at him, the flash of his bubble deflecting it to the ceiling where it dripped to the carpet. It gave me an idea, and I aimed for the ceiling in the bathroom. Two quick puffs of air and there was an evil-looking, foaming mass hanging over the threshold and making a venomous stalactite. With any luck, it would drip on him.

“How come his magic is working?” Ivy asked.

I pressed deeper into the shelter of the TV. “He’s used to the lines here.” I wished I was. But in all fairness, his bubbles weren’t lasting long, either. Maybe that was the trick to it.

“Hey, Ivy,” I said, a sudden thought coursing through me. I couldn’t tap a line worth a damn, but I knew a spell that used just quick bursts instead of long, drawn-out pulls like a circle. Maybe if I kept spindling power, filtering it, as it were, I could do something. “I’ve got an idea,” I said, turning the gun over and opening the hopper.

Ivy’s confused expression softened to one of amusement as I shook a little yellow ball into my palm, clearly remembering our games in the graveyard where I deflected splat balls shot by Ivy and thrown by the pixies. All I needed was some ley-line energy and a focusing object. “But you can’t tap a line,” she protested as I jammed the hopper back into place and handed the gun to her.