“How did you know?” I asked, appalled but also impressed at his acuity. “Did Liz Book tell you?”

“No one had to tell me, Cailleach. His presence is still here. An incubus leaves a distinctive mark on a house …” He tilted his head and regarded me. “… And on his victim. It will take more than a little housecleaning to banish his presence.”

“I tried using magic and it went haywire,” I said defensively, afraid he’d somehow intuit that at the end I’d tried to summon Liam instead of banishing him. “So I resorted to Pledge and Windex.”

“And Aelvesgold?” he asked.

“Oh, well … yes. I found this stone and I held it for a little bit just to get some energy from it …”

“A stone? You have a whole stone’s worth of Aelvesgold?”

I removed the Aelvestone from my pocket and held it up for him to see. He took a step back from it, his blue eyes widening, but then reached out for it. I reluctantly put it into his hand.

“Where did you find this?” he asked, his eyes on the stone as he sank down onto the couch. I found it unnerving to see him sitting where Liam had been wont to sit, especially since he said he could feel Liam’s presence.

“In the Undine,” I said, taking a seat across from the couch. “That’s a stream near here.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of it, and I’ve heard rumors that traces of Aelvesgold could be found in it, but I’ve never heard of such a large quantity being discovered or …” he looked up from the stone to me, his blue eyes burning as if they’d absorbed some of the stone’s power, “… of any witch who could handle this much of it.”

“I’m part fey, on my father’s side, and to tell you the truth, I’m not sure I have been handling it very well. I’ve had strange dreams since I brought it into the house and when I tried to do some spells from Wheelock …” I tapped the book lying on the coffee table. “They went kind of … awry.”

“Show me,” he said or, rather, commanded. His tone was so urgent I dismissed the little bit of pique I felt at being ordered.

Flagrante Ligfyr! I said, matching his tone.

The candles on the mantel flared so high they singed the ceiling, but a moment later they sputtered out.

“Fascinating!” Duncan Laird exclaimed, lit up as if the candles still burned. “Try another one.”

I did the wind spell, grateful that there wasn’t anymore dust to stir up. Instead a miniature tornado seized Duncan Laird’s satchel, upended it, and scattered a dozen loose sheets of paper across the room.

“I’m so sorry!” I said, leaping to my feet and chasing after the pages.