I nodded, only now realizing what my attack on them must have looked like. Relief cascaded over her, and she dropped down in front of me, looking like she needed a shoulder to cry on but was afraid to touch me again. “Thank you,” she said, shivering. “You look just like me.”

I sniffed back my tears and wiped my face. “That’s why they kidnapped you.”

Her head bobbed. “You’re stronger, though.” Smiling, she flexed her bicep. Her smile faded, and she clutched her knees to her chest. “How did you get in that circle? You must be a really powerful witch.” She hesitated. “Are you?”

My eyes shut and I clenched my teeth. “I don’t know,” I said, eyes damp when I opened them. “I really don’t know.”

Thirty

Glenn’s black car wasn’t my style, but it was nice in an FIB sort of way. The back was full of file boxes, which made it hard to recline my seat enough to close my eyes and take a nap as he drove me home. The clutter was unusual. Glenn usually kept his car as tidy and together as himself, rigorously fastidious.

I was so tired, but sleep was impossible. Tom had gotten away, and now he had a vested interest in seeing me dead. My look-alike was safe in custody and would be headed home as soon as the med guys checked her out. She told me she was going to take some martial arts classes so Tom couldn’t hurt her again, and that, combined with Sampson sitting on her lap in the back of a cop car, assured me she’d be okay.

My fingertips were sore from the burn I’d gotten by trying to take Tom’s compromised circle, as was my palm from scraping it in the ever-after. I winced when I toggled the switch to crack the window, but the pain was worth hearing the sounds of the kids playing hide-and-seek in the dark, the squeals and shouts of protest coming in unseen soothing me. My eyes shut, and I tried to follow the car’s path by its motion. When it got out that an I.S. operative had been summoning demons and letting him go to trash charm shops and terrorize citizens, the I.S. would have to publicly disapprove of Tom, dissolving his contract and moving his name from payroll to most-wanted. Privately, he would likely get a nasty slap and a boot out the door as they tried to disguise his public failure to tag me. I wasn’t on their active list, but I knew they wouldn’t mind seeing me on a granite table. But at least I wouldn’t have to pay for the damages to the charm shop anymore.