"Let me go, Al. I have to…get her," I finished lamely. But with what? The heat had probably popped the sleepy-time charms in my gun.

The demon's grip on my arm tightened when I tried to pull away. "Not yet," he said, and pain shot up my arm as I twisted in his grip. "I need something."

I stared at him, my heart pounding. "Need what?"

"This."

He unexpectedly swung at me, and my head rocked back. My ears rang, and I staggered. Pierce protested, but it was the smooth, clean touch of velvet against my neck that caught and cradled me as I fell. "So sorry, itchy witch," Al said as he gently eased me to the floor. The scent of burnt amber and mold made me ill, and I tried to focus. Dizzy, I was dizzy.

The cold seeped up through my back, my coat doing little to keep me warm. I felt a moment of panic when I saw the shiny gold knife in Al's hand as he knelt by me, but I was helpless. Al gave me a little pat on the cheek that stung, and I pushed ineffectively at him.

"You are a font of opportunity," he said, in a wonderful mood as he caught my wrist. "Never would I have been able to plan this, itchy witch, but good things just seem to follow you like a puppy."

Good? I wondered. Was he crazy? "What are you doing…," I panted, trying to pull my arm from his grip.

Temporarily putting the knife between his teeth, Al pulled from his coat pocket the black potion bottle he'd taken from me. "I need a wee bit of your blood, love," he said when he took the knife from his mouth. "Something to invoke the excellent charm you cooked up for me."

Pierce's charm? Panic slid through me when he set the potion aside and took the knife. Behind him, Pierce stood with his hands fisted, clearly upset but not going to do a thing. "S-stop," I said, then jerked at the icy pain of the blade. "Al, stop!" I cried, trying to pull my wrist from him.

Al stood. I tried to follow, but he put a booted foot across my throat, and my upward surge ended in a gurgle and a thrashing of legs.

"Master's prerogative," he said as he swirled the potion with the three drops of blood in it. "I can claim any spell you make. We've been over this before." Tilting his head, he looked at me from over his smoked glasses. As if in a toast, he held up the potion. "Mine."

His foot lifted, and I gasped, putting a hand to my throat and sitting up. My finger throbbed, and I looked, seeing that he had cut right across the closed loop of my fingerprint. He wasn't doing the charm right. It should be spilled into a hollowed-out stone and allowed to disperse. He was using my potion, but for what?

"What are you doing?" I said, truly horrified when he yanked Tom's body up and dumped the potion into the corpse's mouth. Was he trying to resurrect him?

Al dropped the body and turned in a jaunty motion. "I can't have a corpse for a familiar. How gauche would that be? People would talk. And with you idling your time away, I need a real familiar. Thanks, love. This will do fine. Enjoy the rest of your night. This one is mine. Preexisting agreement, you see. It's not a snatch, itchy witch." And he laughed.

I scrambled upright with a hand to my stomach. Al was using my potion, but for what?

"Ta, love," he said, and with a wicked smile, he yanked Tom to him and vanished.

He took Tom. Holy crap, he took Tom! And I think he used my potion to keep him from dying. "Al!" I cried, panicked that it had been my charm to do it. This was not my fault! You play with black magic, you pay the cost.

The light shifted, and I turned to find that I was alone down here with an unconscious FIB agent and one extremely pissed banshee. Pierce was gone. A pile of clothes and the stolen coat marked where he had been, and I cursed Al, thinking he had snagged both witches and left, Tom, apparently, being more important than keeping his word.

Mia had Holly on her hip, and the child watched me with eyes as black as her mother's, as innocent and unforgiving as death itself. Backing up, I looked at my now-useless splat gun. I couldn't make a circle, and running after a banshee without backup—or better yet, angry—was going to bite me on the ass. But I'd gone out tonight intent on talking Al into agreeing to stop snatching people, not to rescue the world from a banshee having a bad day.

"You will die for your part in this," the woman snarled.

"I tried to help," I said, grabbing the back of Ford's shirt and dragging him out of her reach. He was conscious, but not going to be of any help, unable to sit under his own power yet.

"You are alone," the woman said, letting Holly slip from her.

"So?" I said stupidly, then gasped and backpedaled when the woman lunged forward, hands grasping.

"Rachel!" Ford called with a slurred shout, and I stumbled, tripping over his legs.

I went down, Mia on top of me.

We hit the floor. My breath whooshed out, and I tapped a line, frantic. Pain hit me as the heat of the ley line suddenly burned across my unprotected neurons and synapses, and when her hands touched my face, I screamed as my aura pulled through my soul. "You think you can kill me!" I screamed defiantly. "Go ahead," I panted. "Make my freaking…day."

Her teeth bared, inches from me. Her breath came in a pant, her gaze wild, fevered with savage instinct. But I had fought off Ivy, and this didn't scare me. The line was humming through me, and I let her have it. I let her have it all.

Mia screamed. Her fingernails dug into my jaw, her agony reverberating through me like her voice echoing against the curved ceilings of stone over us. She screamed again, and I clenched my teeth, refusing to let go of the line even as it burned me. Power flowed into her, burning her mind and body, but she wouldn't let go. The scent of cold dust and forgotten air filled me, and then her eyes opened against the torment.

Blacker than the sin of betrayal, she fixed her gaze on mine, panting from the agony. "If it was that easy," she said, clearly hurting, "I would have died before my twenties."

I had a second of doubt, and feeling it, she attacked.

It was as if the world flipped over. With a curious twist of vertigo, she ripped my thin aura from me. Pain lit through me as the ley line I was pulling on hit me, completely raw and unfiltered. I jerked, instinct shoving her away, but she had me and pinned me to the floor. The line still flowed, but I wouldn't let go as it was clearly hurting her, too. Pain was etched on her forehead and sweat beaded up. Her breath came in a pant, and she held it. Behind her pain, I could see my soul slipping into her, my strength going with it. If I couldn't stop her from taking my soul, she would freaking kill me, line or no.

"Rachel…," I heard from behind the roaring in my ears, and then someone knocked us apart. Mia's grip tore away as she fell back. The cool air of the tunnel hit me, and I groaned as the strength of the line boomeranged back into me. Unable to breathe, I curled into myself and rolled to my stomach, clenching in hurt. My face rubbed into the dusty cement, and I sucked in the air as if it would help me find my soul. I still had it. I still had some of my aura, or I'd be dead. I didn't think I was dead. I hurt too much.

Only now did I let go of the line. A pained sob escaped me as the incoming force ceased and I pushed enough out of me so I could think, but even so, it hurt. Power leaked from my muscles, cramping them when I tried to move. In the distance, I could hear Holly crying. Or maybe it was me.

"I'm sorry, Mia," Ford was saying faintly as I tried to breathe without taking in the dust. "You've had all the chances I can give a person. Holly will be fine. She's—"

"Give her to me!" Mia screamed, her raw voice scraping my awareness. I turned my head and cracked my eyes. It hurt. God, it hurt to do even that little bit, but I found them. Ford was holding Holly, the young girl blinking at her raging mother but not upset. Ford had my splat gun and was holding Mia off. The charms must not have popped, or he would have knocked himself out picking up the gun. How he could hold the baby and Tom couldn't was beyond me.