“I’ll call you in about an hour to make sure you’re all right.”

“I won’t answer,” I said, irritated. “I’m going to take a nap.” I stood and stretched until my sweater and halter top rose to show my belly button. It would have gotten a wolf whistle from Jenks, and the silence in the rafters was depressing.

Ceri came forward with her cushion to give me a hug good-bye. It startled me, and I hesitantly returned it. “Rachel can take care of herself,” she said proudly. “She’s been holding enough ever-after to blow a hole in the roof for the last five minutes and has forgotten about it.”

“Holy crap!” I exclaimed, feeling my face warm. “I am, aren’t I!”

Ivy sighed as she strode to the church’s front door. “Don’t wait up for me,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m having dinner with my folks and won’t be home until after sunup.”

“You should let it go,” Ceri said as she edged after Ivy. “At least when the sun is down. Someone else might summon him, and if they don’t banish him properly, he’ll come looking for you. He might try to knock you out by adding to what you’re holding now.” She shrugged in a very modern gesture. “But if you stay on holy ground, you should be all right.”

“I’ll let it go,” I said absently, my thoughts whirling.

Ceri smiled shyly. “Thank you, Rachel,” she said softly. “It’s good to feel needed.”

I jerked my attention back to her. “You’re welcome.”

The scent of cold snow filtered in. I looked up seeing Ivy standing impatiently in the threshold of the open door, the fading light making her a threatening silhouette in tight leather. “ ’By-y-y-y-ye, Rachel,” she prompted mockingly, and Ceri sighed.

Turning, the slender woman made her unhurried way to the door, kicking off her shoes at the last moment and going barefoot out onto the icy cement steps.

“How can you stand the cold?” I heard Ivy say before the door shut behind them.

I soaked in the silence and the dusky light. Reaching over, I clicked off the desk lamp and it seemed to brighten outside. I was alone—for what was probably the first time—in my church. No roommate, no boyfriend, no pixies. Alone. My eyes closed, and I sat on the slightly raised stage and breathed. I could smell plywood over the almond scent of Ivy’s stupid cookies. A soft pressure behind my eyes reminded me I was still holding that ball of ever-after, and with a nudge of my will, I broke the three-dimensional circle in my thoughts and the energy flowed back to the line in a warm wash.

I opened my eyes and headed for the kitchen, my sock feet soundless. I wasn’t going to take a nap; I was going to make brownies as part of Ivy’s present. There was no way I could compete with thousand-dollar perfume: I had to take the handmade-goodie track.

Detouring into the living room, I searched for the remote. The smell of plywood was almost an assault, and I glanced at the window Ivy had sketched on the panel, freehanding the view of the graveyard. I clicked on the stereo and Offspring’s “Come Out and Play” spilled out. Grinning, I cranked it. “Wake the dead,” I said, tossing the remote and dancing into the kitchen.