She put a hand to her temple, remembering. "I killed them, didn't I?”

Jack put his arm around her shoulders. "Mira—”

"Wait a minute." She pulled away from him and held up a hand. "I don't want to talk about that right now. I don't even want to think about that right now." She needed time to digest what had happened.

"The cleanup of that incident is under my authority," Ingrid said. "I have Coven witches sifting through the mess. We don't know what became of the warlocks who attacked you yet.”

She glared at Ingrid. Had she not just said she didn't want to talk about it? Incident. Cleanup. Mess. She'd killed people, and this woman talked about it like she'd dropped the milk carton on the kitchen floor.

Jack sighed. "We're on our way to the airport now. Once we're at the Coven, the Duskoff won't be able to touch you.”

Mira put her hand back to her temple. "Does it hurt so much because I pulled a lot of power?" Her body still ached despite Jack's healing, and she felt nauseous.

"Yes. Think about your magick as a garden, Mira," answered Jack. "You tend it carefully and it nourishes you. Abuse it, yank big handfuls out of it, and there are consequences. When you take as much power as you did in the way you took it, it can make you sick. Your magick needs time to replenish itself.”

"Where does it come from? The magick, I mean?”

"That's a question for the philosophers at the Coven, Mira," answered Ingrid. She rolled her eyes. "They'll discuss it with you endlessly if you inquire.”

Jack sighed in irritation. "Mira, meet Ingrid Harris. She's Thomas's right hand.”

Mira massaged her temples and glanced at him. "Does that make you his left hand?”

His mouth twitched. "Something like that.”

"You're a very powerful witch, Mira," said Ingrid. "You'll get the training you need in Chicago, and once you've got your magick on a leash"—Ingrid smiled—"Crane will be the one running from you.”

Mira moved her hand from her temple to look at the woman. "I would really like to see that," she replied with vehemence she felt to the tips of her toes.

Ingrid's smile widened.

The limo came to a stop in front of Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport, and the driver opened the door. Light poured into the dark interior of the car. Mira squinted while her pupils adjusted and shivered as cold wind rushed in to fill the warm space.

"Have a good flight," said Ingrid. "I'll be traveling to Chicago in about a week. See you then.”

Jack only shot Ingrid a dirty look. There was definitely some tension there. She wondered for a moment what kind. Was it sexual or professional? Both? Then she pushed the drought from her mind. It was none of her business.