More than a little irate, I unmuted the stereo and headed back into the kitchen, Steppenwolf’s “Magic Carpet Ride” trying its best to lighten my mood.

It was the hint of a draft, the barest scent of wet pavement, that made my step hesitate and the palm streaking out at me past the archway to the kitchen miss my jaw.

“God bless it!” I swore as I dove past it into the kitchen instead of falling back into the cramped hall. Remembering Jenks’s kids, I tapped the ley line out back but did nothing else as I fell into a defensive crouch between the sink and the island counter. I almost choked when I saw whom it was standing by the archway.

“Quen?” I stammered, not getting out of my stance as the lightly wrinkled, athletic man stared at me with no expression. The head of Trent’s security was dressed entirely in black, his tight-fitting body stocking looking vaguely like a uniform. “What in hell are you doing?” I said. “I ought to call the I.S., you know that? And have them haul your ass out of my kitchen for illegal entry! If Trent wants to see me, he can come down here just like anyone else. I’ll tell him he can suck dishwater, but he ought to have the decency to let me do it in person!”

Quen shook his head. “I have a problem, but I don’t think you can handle it.”

I made an ugly face at him. “Don’t test me, Quen,” I all but snarled. “You’ll fail.”

“We’ll see.”

That was all the warning I got as the man pushed off the wall, headed right for me.

Gasping, I dove past him instead of backward the way I wanted. Quen lived and breathed security. Backing away would only get me caught. Heart pounding, I grabbed my dented copper spell pot with white frosting in it and swung.

Quen caught it, yanking me forward. Adrenaline hurt my head as I let it go, and he tossed it aside. It made a harsh bong and spun into the hallway.

I snatched the coffeemaker and threw it. The appliance jerked back at its cord, and the carafe fell to shatter on the floor. He dodged, his green eyes peeved when they met mine, as if wondering what in hell I was doing. But if he got a grip on me, I was a goner. I had a cupboard of charms in arm’s reach, but no time to invoke even one.

He gathered himself to jump, and remembering how he had evaded Piscary with incredible leaps, I went for my dissolution vat. Teeth gritted in effort, I tipped it over.

Quen cried out in disgust as ten gallons of saltwater cascaded over the floor to mix with the coffee and glass shards. Arms pinwheeling, he slipped.

I levered myself onto the island counter, stepping on frosted cookies and knocking over vials of colored sugar. Crouched to avoid the hanging utensils, I jumped feet first as he rose.