We clicked glasses. I took a big gulp, but he swirled the gold liquid around in his glass and sniffed it.

“Checking for water witches?” I asked.

“Just savoring the aroma,” he replied.

He smiled and a dimple appeared on his right cheek. Liam had had one on his left. I almost stopped his hand as he lifted the glass to his lips and took a long drink.

“Ah …” he said, “that tastes like a good beginning.”

I took another sip of my Scotch and sat down on the couch. “That’s what I want,” I said. “A new beginning. The transformations we’ve done haven’t released my wards. In fact, they seem more volatile.”

“That sometimes happens when wards are breaking down,” he said. “Some wards are so ingeniously placed that they contain a fail-safe device. When you try to disarm them they dig themselves deeper into their host. Taking them out can be like removing a barbed fish hook.”

I winced at the image. “All the more reason to get them out quickly,” I said. “I think I’ve found something that will work more quickly than another transformation.”

I got up to get the books I’d left lying on the coffee table even though I could easily have reached them without rising. I sat back down with the open Wheelock on my lap a few inches from him, but he moved closer to see the page I’d bookmarked.

“Ah, the Skeleton Key spell,” he said, reaching across me to turn the page. “I had thought of that one, but it’s not very precise and it needs a vehicle to deliver it.”

“I thought I’d ask the rain,” I said.

“Ask the rain?”

“Yes, I read here …” I handed him another book that was already open to the place I wanted. “… that a witch should never try to command the elements, but there’s an incantation for asking an element to carry a spell. I thought I’d ask the rain to become the skeleton key to unlock my wards. And then I’ll ask the wind to blow them away.” I didn’t add that I planned to use the skeleton key I invoked to unlock his disguise wards as well.

He leaned closer and narrowed his eyes at me, their blue burning like gas flames. I could smell under the peaty aroma of the Scotch his own scent, a mixture of pine and musk that reminded me of how he’d looked as a stag. But his eyes reminded me of the owl’s. “Will you ask the earth to move next, Cailleach McFay? You’re getting almost too powerful for me to keep up with.”

“I doubt that,” I replied. “Do you think it will work?”