I swallowed, feeling cold. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Her narrow chin trembled. “You misunderstand. If he comes for you and you can’t fight him off, make him so angry that he kills you.”

Her sincerity struck me to the core. “He’s not going to give up, is he?” I said.

“No. He needs a familiar to keep his standing. He won’t give up on you unless he finds someone better. Al is greedy and impatient. He’ll take the best he can find.”

“So all this practice is making me a more attractive target?” I said, feeling sick.

Ceri squinted apologetically. “You need it to keep him from simply stunning you with a massive dose of ley line force and dragging you into a line.”

I gazed at the darkening windows. “Damn,” I whispered, not having considered that.

“But being your own familiar will help in your profession,” Ceri said persuasively. “You’ll have the strength of a familiar without the liabilities.”

“I suppose.” I set my mug aside, gaze unfocused. It was getting dark, and I knew she wanted to be home before the sun set. “Do you want me to try it alone?” I prompted hesitantly.

Her attention flicked to my hands. “I’d advise a small rest. You’re still shaking.”

I looked at my fingers, embarrassed that she was right. Curling them into a fist, I gave her a sheepish smile. She took a sip of her tea—clearly willing herself to be patient when I had no control over the situation—and I jumped when she whispered, “Consimilis calefacio.”

She had done something; I had felt a drop in the line, even though I wasn’t connected to it. Sure enough her gaze meeting mine was bright in amusement. “You felt that?” she said around a beautiful laugh. “You’re getting very attached to your line, Rachel Mariana Morgan. It belongs to the whole street, even if it is in your backyard.”

“What did you do?” I asked, not wanting to delve into what she had meant by that. She held her cup up in explanation, and my smile grew. “You warmed it up,” I said, and she bobbed her head. Slowly my smile faded. “That’s not a black charm, is it?”

Ceri’s face lost its expression. “No. It’s common ley line magic that acts on water. I will not add to the smut on my soul, Rachel. I’ll be hard pressed to get rid of it as it is.”

“But Al used it on David. It almost cooked him,” I asserted, feeling sick. People were mostly water. Heat that up and you could cook them from the inside. God, I was sick for even thinking of it.

“No,” she reassured me. “It was different. This one works only on things without auras. The curse strong enough to break through an aura is black and needs a drop of demon blood to twist. The reason David survived was because Al was drawing on a line through you, and he knew you couldn’t handle the lethal amount—yet.”