Nick ate a chip, skepticism pouring from him. “You know them?” I nodded, and he wiped his hand on his jeans before pulling my textbook closer. “All right,” he challenged as he tilted the book so I couldn’t see. “What does a pentagram of protection look like?”

My breath escaped me in a relieved whoosh, and I added the sanicle decoction I’d prepared earlier. “Standard graph with two braided lines in the outer circle.”

“Okay … How about divination?”

“New moons sketched at the points, and a mobius strip in the center for balance.”

The amused glint in Nick’s eye turned to surprise. “Summoning?” he prompted.

I smiled and dropped the pulped wild geranium into the brew. The bits of green hung suspended as if the water were a gel. Cool. “Which one? Summoning internal power or a physical entity?”

“Both.”

“Internal power has acorns and oak leaves in the midpoints, and summoning an entity uses a Celtic chain binding the points.” Smug at his obvious surprise, I adjusted the flame under the pot and dug in my silverware drawer for a finger stick.

“Okay. I’m impressed.” The book slipped down and he grabbed a handful of chips.

“You’ll copy them for me?” I asked, delighted.

“Promise you’ll do them yourself later?”

“Deal,” I said cheerfully. I had already finished the short essays. Now all I had to do was make Bob my familiar and I’d be set. Piece of cake. I looked at Bob and cringed. Yeah. Piece of cake. “Thanks,” I said softly as Nick straightened my black drawing paper by taping the ends on the counter.

“I’ll make them sloppy so she thinks you did them,” he said.

I gave him a raised eyebrow look. “Thanks a lot,” I amended dryly, and he grinned. Done with the brew, I jabbed my finger and massaged out three drops of blood. The scent of redwood blossomed as they plunked into the pot and the spell quickened. So far, so good.

“Earth witches don’t use pentagrams,” Nick said as he sharpened the chalk by rubbing it against a piece of scrap paper. “How come you know them?”

Careful to keep my bloodied finger clear, I polished my scrying mirror with a velveteen scarf borrowed from Ivy. A shudder sifted through me at the cold feel of it. I hated scrying. It gave me the willies. “From those pentagram jelly glasses,” I said. Nick looked up, the lost look on his face making me feel good for some reason. “You know. Those jelly jars you can use for juice glasses when they’re empty? These had pentagrams on the bottom and their uses written on the side. I lived on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that year.” My mood went soft at the memory of my dad quizzing me over toast.

Nick rolled his sleeves up and started sketching. “And I thought I was bad for digging to the bottom of my cereal box for the toy.”

I was done with the prep work and ready to do some serious spelling. Time to set my circle. “In or out,” I asked, and Nick looked up from my homework, blinking. Seeing his confusion, I added, “I’m ready to set my circle. Do you want to be in or out of it?”