With a flick of his wrist, Kisten sent the gun arching to me. It glinted in the headlights as I lurched forward to catch it. The heavy metal landed in my grip. It was hot, surprising me. There was another pop of a gun, and I jerked. The gun fell to the snow.

“Get that weapon!” the man in the long coat at the outskirts shouted.

I peeked over the hood of Kisten’s Corvette, seeing he had a gun, too. My eyes widened as I saw the black shadow of a man coming at me. There was a ball of orange ever-after in his hand. My breath hissed as he smiled and threw it at me.

I hit the pavement, the snow-covered ice making a hard landing. The ever-after exploded into a shower of sulfur-smelling sparkles as it struck Kisten’s car and ricocheted away. Cold slush seeped against me, the shock clearing my head.

From the ground, I put my palms against the cold pavement and levered myself up. My clothes … My clothes! My silk-lined pants were covered in filthy gray snow. “Look what you made me do!” I shouted, furious as I shook the cold slop from me.

“You son of a bitch!” Kisten cried, and I spun to see three witches down in a messy circle about him. The one that had thrown the ever-after made a pained motion, and Kisten savagely kicked him. How had he gotten there so fast? “You burned my paint job, you mother!”

As I watched, Kisten’s mien shifted in a breathless instant. Eyes black, he lunged at the closest gesturing ley line witch. The man’s eyes widened, but he had no time for more.

Kisten’s fist rammed into his face, rocking his head back. There was an ugly sounding crunch, and the witch crumpled. Arms slack, he arched backward through the air, landing to skid into the headlights of the Cadillac.

Spinning before the first had stopped moving, Kisten landed before the next, turning in a tight circle. His dress shoes smacked into the back of the startled witch’s knees. The man cried out as his legs buckled. The sound cut off with a frightening suddenness when Kisten stiff-armed his throat. My stomach clenched at the gurgle and crackle of cartilage.

The third witch backpedaled into a run. Mistake. Terrible, terrible mistake.

Kisten paced the ten feet between them in half a heartbeat. Grabbing the fleeing witch, he spun him in a circle, never letting go of his arm. The pop of his arm dislocating hit me like a slap. I put a hand to my stomach, sickened. It had taken a moment’s thought, and nothing more.

Kisten stopped before the last witch standing, an aggressive eight feet back. I shuddered, remembering Ivy looking at me like that. He had a pistol, but I didn’t think it was going to help him.

“You going to shoot me?” Kisten snarled.

The man smiled. I felt him tap a line. My breath came quick to shout a warning.