The pixy sighed, his wings stopping to look gossamer and silk. "I don't like it," he said. "He's been here for a year watching us. Messing with your phone."

"He's been trying to get noticed." The air pressure shifted, and Ivy's footsteps echoed in the sanctuary.

"Ivy?" Jenks said loudly, then he darted out.

Hearing Ivy's steps, I started throwing my shoes in the closet, trying to get it shut before Ivy offered to help me organize. My thoughts went back to that solstice night, trying to remember the charm. I saw Robbie pick up the rare red-and-white shallow bowl before we fled Fountain Square. But what he did with it between that and Pierce and me going to the vamp's house and saving the girl, I didn't know. The kitchen had been clean by the time I was strong enough to stand again, and I had assumed Dad's ley line stuff was back in the attic. I never did see the book again. My mom hadn't said much about me summoning a ghost out of purgatory, and it would be just like her to hide everything to keep me from doing it again. Especially when I'd been trying to summon my dad, not a young man accused of witchcraft and buried alive in the mid-1800s.

Ivy's shadow passed my door, Jenks a small glow and a hushed voice of panic on her shoulder. "Hi, Ivy," I called as I kicked the last shoe in and forced the door shut. Then, knowing how she disliked surprises, I added, "Ford is in the kitchen."

From Ivy's room came a preoccupied "Hi, Rachel." Then a terse "Get out of my way, Jenks," followed by a soft thump. "Hey. Where's my sword?"

My eyebrows rose. Nudging my flip-flops under the bed, I went to the hall. "You left it in the belfry stairway after you oiled it the last time." I hesitated, hearing Jenks tattling on me. "Ah, what's up?"

Ivy was halfway back to the sanctuary. Her long winter coat swayed, and her boots hit the wood floor with purpose. Gold sparkles fell from Jenks as he flitted back and forth in front of her, flying backward. I hated it when he did that to me, and by her stiff arm movements, I figured Ivy did, too.

"It's a ghost, Ivy!" he shrilled. "Rachel summoned it when she was a kid, and it's back."

Leaning against the door frame with my arms crossed, I said, "I was eighteen, not a kid."

His sparkles shifted to silver. "And he likes her," he added.

Oh for God's sake, I thought, losing sight of them in the dark foyer but for Jenks's glow. "We have a randy ghost?" Ivy asked, faintly amused, and my eyes narrowed.

"This isn't funny," Jenks snapped.

"He's not randy!" I said loudly, more embarrassed by Jenks than anything else. Pierce was probably hearing every word. "He's a nice guy." But my gaze became distant as I remembered Pierce's eyes, the flinty black of them and how I'd shivered when he kissed me on my front porch, ready to go off to tag the bad vampire and thinking he could make me stay behind.

I smiled, remembering my past emotional inexperience. I'd been eighteen, and totally impressed by a charismatic witch with mischievous eyes. But it had been the turning point in my life. Together, Pierce and I had saved a little girl from a pedophile vamp—the same vampire who'd gotten him buried alive in the 1800s, which I thought beautiful justice. I'd expected the deed would have been enough to put his soul at rest, but apparently not.

That night had been the first time I'd felt alive, the adrenaline and endorphins making my body, still recovering from disease, feel…normal. It was then that I realized I'd risk anything to feel that way all the time—and most days, I did.

Ivy's lithe shape seemed to ghost across the dim sanctuary toward me, pixies whirling in her wake with too many questions. She had her sheathed sword in her hand, and concern hit me. "What do you need your sword for?" I asked, then froze. She'd been out to the boat. She'd found something, and was going to follow it up with cold steel before sunrise. Crap. "You've been to the boat."

Her perfect, oval face was placid, but the intent eagerness of her pace tightened my gut. "I've been to the boat," Ivy said. "But I don't know yet who else was out there, if that's what you're asking. Don't you have a date tonight with Marshal?"

"It's not a date," I said, ignoring Jenks hovering nearby, shedding frustrated sparkles. "He's rescuing me from my overzealous mother. How come the sword if you don't know who was at the boat?"

"The hell with the sword, Ivy," Jenks shouted, and I didn't wonder that his kids were now whispering in the sanctuary's shadowed rafters. "This is serious! It's been here for months! Changing her ring tones and scaring my cat. Spying on us!"

"Pierce is not spying on us. God, Jenks, lighten up!" I exclaimed, and Ivy came out of her room with her sword, a rag, and the cleaner she used on her steel. "I don't mind skipping dinner at my mom's. You want to take a girls' night out?" I asked, eyeing her blade.

"No, but thanks for the offer." Ivy eased the blade out an inch and the biting scent of oiled metal tickled my nose. "I got a look at the list of people who visited Piscary when he was in jail." Her smile made me stifle a shudder, and when I dropped my gaze, she added, "The sword is a conversation starter. Rynn…" A faint blush marred her pale complexion, and she started for the kitchen. "I'm not his scion, but he's letting me lean on him."

Lips pressed, I couldn't help but wonder what she gave him in exchange, then squelched it. Not my business. As long as Ivy was happy, I was happy.

"So did your chat with Ford bring anything to light?" Ivy asked over her shoulder, and I pushed into motion behind her, headed for the kitchen.

"Just that we've got a freaking ghost!" Jenks said loud enough to make my eyeballs hurt. Rex padded at Ivy's heels, ears pricked up and eager. "Aren't you listening? I think it's one of her old boyfriends she killed, spying on us."

"Jenks. Listen to me. Pierce is not an old boyfriend," I said, exasperated, as I followed them. "I only knew him one night. And he was dead when I found him."

Ivy chuckled. "You could fall in love in an afternoon when we worked at the I.S.," she said, then added, "But he's dead?"

"That's what I've been saying!" Jenks shouted, flitting from me to her. "Tink's little green panties! You got fairy dust in your ears?"

I entered the kitchen through a sheet of glittering sparkles. The room was a mess, and I flushed when Ivy stopped short and stared. My spelling cupboards were all open, stuff strewn across the counters, evidence of me cooking up the locator amulets. I should have just used the demon curse and been done with it, 'cause the last two hours had been a big waste of time. I hadn't even bothered invoking the last six potions, lined up at the back of the counter.

Ford looked up from the far corner where he had put himself to talk to Pierce. Beside him was the makeshift Ouija board and a pocket-size notebook with Ford's messy scrawl filling a page. Seeing us, the man brushed cookie crumbs from himself and leaned back. I wondered if I should say hi to Pierce. He was in here…somewhere.

"I'll tell her," Ford said softly when Rex jingled in and twined around his feet. The psychiatrist clearly wasn't talking to us, and his amulet turned a thankful blue, rich and deep.

Jenks darted about like a hummingbird on steroids. "Tell her what? What did the ghost say?" he asked, and I glared. His paranoia was getting old.

Her eyes still wide and questioning, Ivy delicately nudged a mesh sack of herbs down the counter to make room for her sword. "Doing a little cooking?" she asked mildly.

"Uh, a locator amulet to find Mia," I said, not wanting to admit that my first attempt hadn't worked. Shifting my shoulders, I started to put things away.

"If you'd let me organize your stuff, you wouldn't make such a mess," she said, and after pushing a box of candles to the back of the counter, she shifted the toaster forward. "Hi, Ford," she added, sashaying to the fridge, then coming out with the bagels. "Rachel giving you problems?"