Thinking this was easier than grinding plants and boiling water, I said the incantation and made a swooping loop of a figure in the air with my hand, imagining it was like writing your name with a sparkler on the Fourth of July. I said the last word as Jenks tossed the ball up.

“Ow!” I shouted as a surge of ley line force burned my left hand. I looked at Jenks in bewilderment as he laughed. “What did I do wrong?”

He flitted close with the red ball tucked under his arm, caught when it fell back to him. “You forgot your focusing object. Here. Use this.”

“Ah.” Embarrassed, I took the red ball as he dropped it into my hand. “Let’s try it again,” I said, and cradled it in my recessive hand as the book had instructed. Feeling the cool smoothness of it, I said the incantation and etched the figure in the air with my right hand.

Jenks tossed a second ball with a sharp whistle of his wings. Startled, I let loose a surge of power. This time it worked. I stifled a yelp as I felt the ley line energy dart through my hand, following my attention right to the ball. It hit it, knocking it into the wall to make a dripping smear. “Yes!” I exclaimed, meeting Jenks’s grin with my own. “Look at that! It worked!”

Jenks flew to the counter to get another ball. “Try it again,” he prompted, tossing it eagerly to the ceiling.

It came faster this time. I found I could do the incantation and gesture simultaneously, holding the ley line energy with my will until I wanted to release it. With that came a great deal of control, and soon I was no longer hitting them with so much force that they broke when they hit the wall. My aim was getting better, too, and the sink was littered with the balls I’d been bouncing off the screen. Mr. Fish on the sill wasn’t happy.

Jenks was a willing partner, zipping about the kitchen, throwing the red balls at the ceiling. My eyes widened as he threw one at me instead. “Hey!” I cried, sending the ball through the pixy hole in the screen. “Not at me!”

“What a good idea,” he said, then grinned wickedly as he made a sharp whistle. Three of his kids zipped in from the garden, all talking at once. They brought the smell of dandelions and asters with them. “Toss them at Ms. Morgan,” he said, handing his sphere to the girl in pink.

“Hold it,” I protested, ducking as the girl pixy threw it with as much skill and power as her father. I looked behind me to the dark splat against the yellow wall, then back to them. My mouth opened. In the instant I had looked away, they all had gotten splat balls.

“Get her!” Jenks cried.