“You’re leaving!” I shouted, reaching for him. “Now!”

He was hunched and trembling, making the martial arts master look vulnerable. Lines from his internal struggle showed on his face. His eyes showed his broken spirit. “You will accompany Mr. Kalamack in my place,” he said, his voice haggard.

“No, I won’t.” I reached for his arm.

Flashing alive, he sprang back. “You will accompany Mr. Kalamack in my place,” he repeated, his face falling back into despair. “Or I will give in and go back into that kitchen.” His face twisted, and I panicked that he might anyway. “He’s whispering to me, Morgan. I can hear him through her.…”

My mouth went dry. My thoughts spiraled to Kisten. If I let him bind me to him, I could end up like this. “Why me?” I asked. “There’s a university of people better at magic than I am.”

“Everyone else relies on their magic,” he panted, bent almost double. “You use it as a last resort. It gives you … the advantage.” He gasped. “She’s weakening. I can feel it.”

“Okay!” I exclaimed. “I’ll go, damn it! Just get out of here!”

A sound of agony, soft as a brush of wind, slipped from him. “Help me,” he whispered. “I can’t make myself move anymore.”

Heart pounding, I grabbed his arm and dragged him to the door. Behind us was Ivy’s tortured cry of anguish. My stomach twisted. What was I doing, going on a date with Kisten?

A bright stab of snow-reflected light lanced into the church as Jenks and his brood worked the elaborate pulley system we had rigged so they could open the door. Quen balked at the cold blast of air that sent the pixies hiding. “Get out!” I exclaimed in frustration and fear as I pulled him out onto the stoop.

A long Gray Ghost limo idled at the curb. My breath hissed in relief as Jonathan, Trent’s number-one lackey, opened the driver’s door and emerged. I never thought I’d be happy to see the shockingly tall, distasteful man. They were in this together, working behind Trent’s back. This was a badder mistake than usual. I could feel it already.

Quen panted as I helped him lurch down the steps. “Get him out of here,” I demanded.

Jonathan yanked open the passenger-side door. “Are you going to do it?” he said, his thin lips pressed tight as he took in my cookie-smeared hair and wet jeans.

“Yes!” I pushed Quen in. He fell onto the leather seat, collapsing like a drunk. “Go!”

The tall elf shut the door and stared at me. “What did you do to him?” he said coldly.

“Nothing! It’s Piscary! Get him out of here!”

Apparently satisfied, he strode to the driver’s side. With an odd quietness, the car accelerated. I stood on the icy sidewalk and shivered, watching it speed away until it turned a corner and was gone.

Pulse slowing, I wrapped my arms around myself. The winter sun was cold. Slowly I turned to go inside, not knowing what I’d find curled up on my kitchen floor.