“What?” Ivy yelped, and I shrugged helplessly.

“She says it’s okay,” I said, nodding to Mrs. Jenks. “But only if he promises to bug out the second I say. I’m not going to risk him any more than he can fly.”

Jenks’s wings blurred to an excited purple. “I’ll leave when I decide.”

“Absolutely not.” I stretched my arms out along the table, putting my fists to either side of him and glaring. “We are going in under my discretion, and we will leave on the same terms. This is a witchocracy, not a democracy. Clear?”

Jenks tensed, his mouth open to protest, but then his eyes slid from mine to his wife’s. Her tiny foot was tapping. “’Kay,” he said meekly. “But only this time.”

I nodded and pulled my arms back to myself. “Will that fit in with your plan, Ivy?”

“Whatever.” Chair scraping, she got to her feet. “I’ll call for the ticket. We have to leave in time to get to my friend’s house and out to the main bus station by four. The tours run from there.” Her pace was edging into vamp mode as she strode from the kitchen.

“Jenks, dear?” the small pixy woman said softly. “I’ll be in the garden if you—” Her last words choked off, and she flew out through the window.

Jenks spun, a heartbeat too late. “Matalina, wait,” he cried, his wings blurring to nothing. But he was nailed to the table, unable to keep up with her. “The Turn take it! It’s my only chance,” he shouted after her.

I heard Ivy’s muffled voice in the living room as she argued with someone on the phone. “I don’t care if it is two in the afternoon. You owe me.” There was a short silence. “I could come down there and take it out of your hide, Carmen. I’ve nothing to do tonight.” Jenks and I jumped at the thunk of something hitting the wall. I think it was the phone. It seemed everyone was having a fabulous afternoon.

“All set!” she shouted with what was obviously forced cheerfulness. “We can pick up the ticket in a half hour. That gives us just enough time to change.”

“Great,” I said with a sigh, rising to pluck a mink potion from the cupboard. I couldn’t imagine mere clothes would make a good enough disguise for a vamp. “Hey, Jenks?” I said softly as I rummaged in the silverware drawer for a finger stick. “How does Ivy smell?”

“What?” he all but snarled, clearly still upset about his wife.

My eyes shot to the empty hall. “Ivy,” I said, even more softly so she couldn’t possibly hear. “Before the fairy attack, she stormed out of here like she was going to rip someone’s heart out. I’m not going to put myself in her purse until I know if …” I hesitated, then whispered, “Has she started practicing again?”

Jenks turned serious. “No.” He steeled himself and made the short flight to me. “I sent Jax to watch her. Just to make sure no one slipped her a charm aimed at you.” Jenks puffed with parental pride. “He did well on his first run. No one saw him. Just like his old man.”