“I’ll close the outermost circle,” she said, starting to babble in her nervousness. “That way, no one can interfere. And because Trent will be doing the summoning and bargaining, he will make the inner one to hold Minias. I’ll set the middle circle to hold Minias here and keep him from following you once you leave.”

“Trent!” I exclaimed, my gaze shooting to him in his cute little jumpsuit, and he flushed. “I can make a stronger circle with one arm tied behind my back.”

Ceri shook her head. “Trenton is the one bargaining for the jumps, so he will be the one holding the circle,” she said, her smooth features wrinkling as I found fault with her plan. “Keep your mouth shut while he talks or Minias will use it against you.”

Ticked, I pressed my lips tight.

“Keep your mouth shut!” Ceri said in a burst of anger, then gestured for Trent to come closer. Sighing, Trent tightened his grip on his backpack and stepped over the outermost chalk line to join us. Ceri pointed for him to stand next to me, and looking nervous, he edged closer yet. I wondered how much of Ceri’s temper was actually worry. She was terrified of Newt, and Minias was only a small step from the insane female demon.

Quicker than thought, a shimmering sheet of black ever-after rose up around us along the outermost circle permanently etched out in the reddish cement. There had been a tug on my thoughts when Ceri had tapped the nearby line, and I worked to keep the huge spindle of ever-after I had gathered earlier from unwinding. Trent didn’t look happy as Ceri trapped him with the same witch who had turned him in for murder and might just as easily give him to a demon to get rid of one of her own demon marks. Trust, I thought suddenly. He trusted me—to some extent anyway.

I took a steadying breath as I looked at the other two circles at my feet. They would make an airlock of sorts. Trent would set the inner circle to hold Minias, but when we left, it would fall. The middle circle, set by Ceri, would hold the demon at that point.

Ceri glanced at Trent and nodded. “Just as we practiced,” she said, and Trent set his backpack down and came forward. He glanced once at Quen, then closed his eyes. His lips moved, and I felt an uncomfortable sensation as he slowly tapped a line and set the circle. It was the difference between a sharp tug to remove a splinter and a methodical, painful digging, and I could tell it was bothering Ceri, too. Quen must have been making him practice, since he didn’t need candles to set a circle anymore.

“Bartholomew’s balls,” Ceri muttered. “Can he do this any slower?”