Screaming, the demon flung himself back, but the vampire was after him. The two rolled on the floor, both struggling for control. They were going to freaking kill each other in my kitchen. And wouldn’t Ivy be ticked at me for that?

“Jenks?” I said, seeing him hovering at the ceiling, just as captivated as I was.

His face was white, and his wings made a high-pitched whine. “I’ll get them apart, you set the circle,” he said.

I nodded and shoved my sleeves up past my elbows. The simplest plans were the best.

My heart pounded and Jenks hovered over them. They had regained their feet, struggling like wrestlers, Al’s green frock making an odd statement against Rynn’s elegant business suit.

“Hey, demon-ass!” Jenks shouted, and Al looked up.

A burst of pixy dust sifted down. Al screamed and went misty. Rynn’s hands scrabbled on air, and when Al re-formed, he was hunched over, still rubbing at his eyes.

“Damn you to hell, you burning firefly!” the demon shouted.

Rynn gathered himself, and I sprang into motion. “Get out of the circle!” I shouted, grabbing the vampire’s arm and swinging him into Ivy’s desk with a crash. The heavy table remained standing, but the faint scent of broken technology mixed with the acidic smell of burnt amber and the rich tang of angry vampire.

The former world leader snarled at me when he found his balance. My face went cold, and I wondered if I’d fare better in the circle with Al.

“Rache!” Jenks shouted, clearly annoyed, and I slapped my hand down on the salt circle.

“Rhombus,” I said with relief, and the connection to the ley line out back formed with a satisfying speed. Quicker than thought, a sheet of ever-after rose from the circle I had already scribed on the floor, made strong by my will and the salt I’d used.

Rynn skidded to a halt as the circle formed, his long coat unfurling to brush the impenetrable barrier. On the other side, Al pulled himself upright, howling. “I’ll tear you apart!” he screamed, his eyes still watering from Jenks’s dust. “Morgan, I’ll kill you myself! I will not…You can’t do this to me! Not again! You are just a stinking little witch!”

I fell back to sit on my butt, carefully pulling my feet to me so I wouldn’t accidentally touch the bubble and send it crashing down. “Tag,” I breathed heavily, looking around my demolished kitchen. Mr. Fish was quivering, but at least the fish—and Jenks’s pumpkin under the table—had survived.