Ivy’s fingers touched my neck and I yelped. She jerked back, and Matalina took to the air. “Rachel,” Ivy said worriedly. “I can’t fix this. Pixy dust will hold you together for only so long. You need to be stitched. We have to get you to Emergency.”

“No hospital,” I said with a sigh. I had stopped shivering, and my stomach felt all funny. “Runners go in, but they don’t come out.” I gave in to my desire to giggle.

“You would rather die on my couch?” Ivy said, and Nick began to pace behind her.

“What is wrong with her?” Jenks whispered loudly.

Ivy stood up and crossed her arms to look severe and pissy. A pissy vampire. Yeah, that was funny enough to laugh at, and I giggled again.

“It’s the blood loss,” Ivy said impatiently. “She’s going to yo-yo between lucidity and irrationality until she stabilizes or passes out. I hate this part.”

My good hand crept up to my neck, and Nick forced it back under the blanket.

“I can’t fix this, Rachel!” Ivy exclaimed in frustration. “There’s too much damage.”

“I’ll make something,” I said firmly. “I’m a witch.” I leaned to roll off the couch and get to my feet. I had to go to the kitchen. I had to cook dinner. I had to cook dinner for Ivy.

“Rachel!” Nick shouted, trying to catch me. Ivy leapt forward, easing me into the cushions. I felt myself go white. The room spun. Wide-eyed, I stared at the ceiling, willing myself not to pass out. If I did, Ivy would take me to Emergency.

Matalina drifted within my sight. “Angel,” I whispered. “Beautiful angel.”

“Ivy!” Jenks shouted, fear in his voice. “She’s getting delusional.”

The pixy angel smiled a blessing on me. “Someone should go get Keasley,” she said.

“The old lunker—uh—witch across the street?” Jenks said.

Matalina nodded. “Tell him Rachel needs medical help.”

Ivy, too, seemed bewildered. “You think he can do something?” she asked, the edge of fear in her voice. Ivy was afraid for me. Maybe I should have been afraid for me, too.

Matalina flushed. “He asked—the other day—if he might have a few cuttings from the garden. There’s no harm in that.” The pretty pixy fussed with her dress, her eyes downcast. “They were all plants with strong properties. Yarrow, vervain, that sort. I thought perhaps if he wanted them, he might know what to do with them.”

“Woman …” Jenks said warningly.

“I stayed with him the entire time,” she said, her eyes defiant. “He didn’t touch but what I said he could. He was very proper. Asked after everyone’s health.”

“Matalina, it’s not our garden,” Jenks said, and the angel grew angry.

“If you won’t get him, I will,” she said sharply, and she darted out the window. I blinked, staring at the spot where she had been.

“Matalina!” Jenks shouted. “Don’t you fly from me. That’s not our garden. You can’t treat it as if it was.” He dropped into my line of sight. “I’m sorry,” he said, clearly embarrassed and angry. “She won’t do it again.” His face hardened, and he darted out after her. “Matalina!”