Ivy’s expression took on a look of pity, and she drew her knees up to her chin. “I’m sorry.” She had been treating me differently since our coffee in the mall. Not standoffish exactly, but a bit hesitant. Maybe it was because our relationship had changed. Or maybe the shift was because I had smacked her into the wall and almost fried her.

“It’s not fair!” I exclaimed, standing up and stomping to the fridge. “It’s bloody hell not fair!” Furious at my helplessness, I yanked open the fridge and grabbed a bottled juice. “I find out who’s summoning Al,” I said as I turned and tried to get the stupid thing open. “And then I can’t arrest him. I agree to exchange names with Al, and they change their mind.”

“We’ll work something out.” Ivy looked at the archway and put her feet on the floor.

“His court date is in the thirty-sixth,” I said, still struggling with the lid. “I don’t even know when that is. And I can’t get the damn lid off this juice!”

Slamming the bottle down on the center counter, I stormed out, headed for the living room. “Where’s the phone?” I barked, though I knew where it was. “I have to call Glenn.”

My bare feet slapped on the hardwood floors. The soothing grays and smoky shades Ivy had decorated the room in did nothing to calm me. I snatched up the phone and punched Glenn’s number in from memory.

“I had better not get his voice mail,” I grumbled, knowing he was working today. It was the day after Halloween and he would have a lot of cleanup to do.

“Glenn here,” came his preoccupied voice, and then a startled, “Rachel? Hey, I’m glad to hear from you. How did you do making it through Halloween?”

My first nasty words died in his concern. Leaning against the fireplace mantel, I let my tension go. “I’m fine,” I said, “but my mom spent the night with my favorite demon.”

The silence was heavy. “Rachel. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

I brought my head up when I realized he thought she was dead. “She’s alive,” I said belligerently, and I heard him exhale. “I know who’s summoning Al. I need a warrant for Tom Bansen. He’s an I.S. boy, if you can believe it.”

There was no answer, and my blood pressure spiked. “Glenn?”

“Uh, I can’t help you, Rachel, unless he’s broken a law.”