"Thanks," I breathed, numb. I had made Nick my familiar? I had used demon magic to bind him to me? Dizzy, I put my head between my knees, figuring it was marginally more dignified then passing out and falling to the floor. I felt Nick's hand on my back and stifled a hysterical laugh. What had I done?

Nick's voice came out of the blackness as I closed my eyes and struggled to keep from throwing up. "You can break the spell? I thought familiars were lifelong bonds."

"They generally are—for the familiar." She sounded tired. "But you can unbind one if your skill rises to the point where your familiar is holding you back. And then you have to supplant the old familiar with a better one. But what is better than a person, Nick?"

I pulled my head from between my knees to find Dr. Anders grimacing. "I need to see that book," she said. "There's probably something in it about how to unbind a person. Demons are notorious for taking something better when it comes along. I'd like to know how a book of demon magic ended up in your attic in the first place?"

"I live in a church," I whispered. "It was there when I moved in." I glanced out the window, my sick feeling starting to diminish. Nick had my aura. That was better than a demon having it. And we would be able to undo this—somehow. I had told Glenn I'd meet him at the FIB tonight, but Nick came first.

"I'll go get the book," I said, looking at the closed door. "Can we do this here, or does it have to be somewhere more private? We can go to my kitchen. I've a ley line in the backyard."

Dr. Anders had lost all of her ugliness. Now she looked simply tired. "I can't do anything tonight," she said, glancing apologetically at Nick. "But let me give you my address." She reached for a pen, scribbling across the folded evaluation of me and my familiar. "You can leave the book with the gateman, and I'll get to it this weekend."

"Why not tonight?" I asked as I took the paper.

"I'm busy tonight. I'll be giving a presentation tomorrow, and I have to prepare an updated success/failure statement." She flushed, which turned her years younger.

"Who for?" I asked, the cold feeling returning to the pit of my stomach.

"Mr. Kalamack."

My eyes closed in a strength-gathering blink. "Dr. Anders?" I said, hearing Nick shift from foot to foot beside me. "Trent Kalamack is the one killing the ley line witches."

The woman flashed back to her usual mien of scorn. "Don't be foolish, Ms. Morgan. Mr. Kalamack is no more a murderer than I am."

"Call me Rachel," I said, thinking we ought to be on a first-name basis. "And Kalamack is the witch hunter. I've seen the reports. He talked to every one of the victims within a month before their death."

Dr. Anders opened a lower drawer and pulled out a tasteful black purse. "I talked with him last spring at graduation and I'm still alive. He's interested in discussing my research. If I can capture his attention, he will fund me and I can do what I really want. I've been working six years to put this together, and I'm not going to lose my chance to catch a benefactor because of some fool coincidence."

I shifted to the edge of my chair, wondering how I could go from hating her to being worried so quickly. "Dr. Anders, please," I said, glancing up at Nick. "I know you think I'm a scatterbrained flop. But don't do this. I've seen the reports on the people he's killed. Every one of them died in terror. And Trent talked to all of them."

"Ah, Rachel?" Nick interrupted. "You don't know that for sure."

I spun to him. "You aren't helping!"

Dr. Anders stood with her purse. "Get me the book. I'll look at it this weekend."

"No!" I protested, seeing her tying up the ends of our conversation. "He'll kill you with no more thought than swatting a fly." My jaw gritted as she gestured to the door. "Let me come with you, then," I said as I stood up. "I've done escort service for humans into the Hollows. I know how to stay quiet and watch your back."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "I am a doctor of ley line magic. You think you can protect me better than I can protect myself?"

I took a breath to protest, then let it out. "You're right," I said, thinking it would be easier to follow her without her knowing. "Could you at least tell me when you're meeting with him? I'd feel better if I could give you a call when you're supposed to be home."

She sent one eyebrow up. "Tomorrow night at seven. We're dining at the restaurant atop Carew Tower. Is that a public enough place to please you?"

I would have to borrow some money from Ivy if I was going to follow her up there. A glass of water cost three bucks and a lousy house salad was twelve—or so I'd heard. I didn't think I had a nice enough dress, either. But I wasn't going to let her meet with Trent unwatched.

Nodding, I put the strap of my bag over my shoulder and stood by Nick. "Yes. Thank you."

Eighteen

The early afternoon sun had almost worked its way from the kitchen, a last band making a thin sliver along the sink and counter. I was sitting at Ivy's antique table, leafing through her catalogs and finishing my breakfast of coffee. I'd been up for only an hour or so, nursing my cup and waiting for Ivy. I had made a full carafe, hoping to lure her into talking to me. She still wasn't ready, having evaded me on the excuse of having to research her latest run. I wished she'd talk to me. The Turn take it, I'd be happy if she'd just listen. It didn't seem possible she would put this much weight on the incident. She had slipped before, and we had gotten past it.

Sighing, I stretched my legs out under the table. I turned the page to a collection of closet organizers, my eyes drifting aimlessly. I didn't have much to do today until Glenn, Jenks, and I went to tail Dr. Anders that night. Nick had loaned me some money, and I had a party dress that wouldn't look too cheap and would hide my splat gun.

Edden had been thrilled when I told him I was going to follow the woman—until I stupidly admitted she was meeting with Trent. We had nearly come to blows over it, shocking the officers on the floor. At this point, I didn't care if Edden threw me in jail. He'd have to wait until I did something, and by then I'd have what I needed.

Glenn wasn't happy with me, either. I'd played the daddy's-boy card to get him to keep his mouth shut and come with me tonight. I didn't care. Trent was killing people.

My eyes, roving over the catalog, fastened on an oak desk, the kind detectives had in pre-Turn movies. A sigh escaped me in an exhalation of desire. It was beautiful, with a deep luster that pressboard lacked. There were all sorts of little cubbies and a hidden compartment behind the bottom left drawer according to the sell line. It would fit nicely in the sanctuary.

A grimace pulled my face down as I thought of my pathetic furniture, some still in storage. Ivy had beautiful furniture, with smooth lines and a heavy weight. The drawers never stuck and the metal latches clicked smartly when they closed. I wanted something like that. Something permanent. Something that arrived on my doorstep fully assembled. Something that could stand a dip in saltwater if I ever got another death threat put on me.

It would never happen, I thought, pushing the catalog away. Getting nice furniture, not the death threat. My eyes slid from the shiny paper to my ley line textbook. I stared at it, thinking. I could channel more power than most. My dad hadn't wanted me to know. Dr. Anders thought I was an idiot. There was only one thing I could do.

Taking a breath, I pulled the book closer. I thumbed to the back and the appendices, stopping at the incantation for binding a familiar. It was all ritualistic, with notations referring to techniques I hadn't a clue on. The incantation was in English, and there were no brews or plants involved at all. It was as alien to me as geometry, and I didn't like feeling stupid.