“No.” It was marginally less cold, and I took that as a good sign. He was noisily stirring the ice with his straw, and I purposely edged closer so he could see.

“Look,” I said, pointing at the blurring print. “I was right. If I want to send their pop flies foul, I need a noncontact spell.” For an earth witch such as myself, noncontact meant wands. I’d never made one before, but my eyebrows rose at the ingredients. I had everything but the fern seed and the wand. How much could a dowel of redwood cost?

“Why do you do it?”

His voice had a touch of belligerence, and blinking, I closed the book. Disappointed, I went to put it away, turning to face him with my back against the island counter. “Make spells? It’s what I do. I’m not going to hurt anyone. Not with a spell, anyway.”

Glenn set his super-sized cup down. His dark fingers loosened their grip and slid away. Leaning back in his chair, he hesitated. “No,” he said. “How can you live with someone like that? Ready to explode with no warning?”

“Oh.” I reached for my drink. “You just caught her on a bad day. She doesn’t like your dad, and she took it out on you.” And you did ask for it, dickhead. I slurped the last of my drink and threw the cup away. “Ready?” I said as I got my bag and coat from a chair.

Glenn stood and adjusted his suit coat before crossing in front of me to throw his stuff away under the sink. “She wants something,” he said. “And every time she looks at you, I see guilt. Whether she means to or not, she’s going to hurt you, and she knows it.”

Affronted, I gave him an up-and-down look. “She’s not hunting me.” Trying to keep a lid on my anger, I headed down the hallway at a fast pace.

Glenn was close his hard-soled shoes a heartbeat behind mine. “Are you telling me yesterday was the first time she attacked you?”

My lips pursed, and the thumps of my boots went all the way up my spine. There had been lots of almosts before I figured out what pushed her buttons and quit doing it.

Glenn said nothing, clearly hearing the answer in my silence. “Listen,” he said as we emerged into the sanctuary, “I may have looked like the dumb human last night, but I was watching. Piscary bespelled you easier than blowing out a candle. She pulled you from him by simply saying your name. That can’t be normal. And he called you her pet. Is that what you are? It sure looks like it to me.”

“I’m not her pet,” I said. “She knows it. I know it. Piscary can think what he wants.” Shoving my arms into my coat, I pushed my way out of the church and stormed down the steps. His car was locked, and I yanked at the handle. Angry, I waited for him to unlock it. “And it’s none of your business,” I added.