A perfect moment of understanding and purity chimed through the demon collective. It resonated from me, blending into the demons and beyond. I felt them all, their awe, their bewilderment of grace bestowed. The wave washed out from them to leave a shocked silence.

And then the last line between reality and the ever-after broke.

They are mine! the Goddess howled at me, and suddenly I was scrambling to save myself as the Goddess dug at me, reclaiming what was hers.

Fire burned as the mystics rose up, two forces of the same beginning now poised to swamp each other until one was supreme, the other dead. But I didn’t want the job.

Al! I called, floundering. Al, help me! I cried, knowing he alone could pull me free—if he loved me enough to forgive me for what I’d done. Yes, I had saved them, but I’d used elven magic to do it. I was polluted, a pariah, unclean and reviled.

Please, I whispered as the Goddess dug to my soul, and a sudden smack on my face jolted me to reality.

My eyes sprang open. I was looking at a broken ceiling. Trent was holding me, my head in his lap. Al knelt beside him. The scent of ozone was thick in the air, and my throat hurt. “You’re here,” I said, voice raspy.

The instant of relief in the demon flashed to nothing, and he pulled back. “Why did you do it?” he said darkly. “Everyone knows you’ve got mystics in you now.”

“You treacherous demon bitch!” Landon screamed, and I gasped as Trent stood, dumping me in his effort to get between me and Landon.

“You will not!” Trent shouted as he stood over me, gesturing.

Landon howled, red faced, as he did the same. But nothing happened. Blinking, he looked at his hands.

Trent became white faced, and Al laughed. “You broke the lines, little man,” the demon said, and Landon backed up as Al strode forward, white-gloved hand reaching. “Guess what? I’m bigger than you.”

The lines were dead. Jenks ... Where’s Jenks?

Landon made a dash for the door, robes unfurling as his soft slippers scuffed.

“Excuse me,” Al said, striding out after him.

“Jenks!” I called, sitting up in panic, and then opened my fist, remembering that I’d been holding him. “Oh God! Are you okay?” I asked, seeing him peering up at me with his wings hardly glowing and his narrow face pinched.

“I don’t feel so good,” the pixy said as he rubbed his shoulder. “Did we win?”

The lines were dead. The ever-after was going to vanish. But the demons would not go with it. “I don’t know,” I whispered, beginning to shake.

Trent sat down beside me, exhausted. “The hospitals are going to be full. I’m taking you home to get that leg looked at.”