Jenks's wings hummed as he came back in, hovering beside Ivy with black sparkles drifting from him. My circle wasn't set yet, but he stayed with Ivy. I blinked and shuddered, waiting for my equilibrium to return. "Dizzy," I said, remembering the sensation. "But I'm okay." I can do this. How hard can it be? Tom can do it.

"It's your thin aura," the pixy said. "Rache. Please."

Jaw clenched and vertigo rising, I shook my head, becoming even dizzier. I made myself stand straighter, and when Ivy nodded at me, I awkwardly pulled the sock off my right foot and put my big toe on the smooth tang of the magnetic chalk.

Rhombus, I thought firmly. The trigger word would spell the circle in an eyeblink.

Pain sliced through me. I jerked my hand from the mirror, doubling over as the energy from the line roared in, unfiltered and without the cushion of my aura. "Oh God…," I moaned, then fell to the cold linoleum when a new wave hit me. It hurt. Holding the circle hurt, and hurt bad, the entire, dizzying, sharp pulses smacking into me with the force of a Mack truck. You could survive being hit by a Mack truck. In fact, I had. But not without the cushion of an air bag and an inertia charm. My aura had been that cushion. Now it was so thin as to be useless.

"Ivy!" Jenks was shouting as my cheek ground into the salt-gritty linoleum when another spasm hit me. "Do something! I can't get to her!"

I didn't let go of the line—I shoved it out of me. A silent wave of force exploded from my chi, and I gasped in relief as the pain vanished. The electricity went out, and an unexpected snap of power echoed through the church.

"Down!" Jenks shouted, and a sharp pop hurt my ears.

"Shit," Ivy hissed, and my cheek scraped the salty floor when I blearily looked up at her quick steps into the pantry behind me. My attention, though, never left the fridge. It was on fire, the ghastly gold-and-black glow of my magic lighting the powerless kitchen as the door swung open, hanging from one bolt. I broke our fridge!

"Jenks?" I whispered, remembering the force of the line I'd shoved out of me. I think I just blew every fuse in the church.

I heard the hum of pixy wings over me as Ivy put the magically induced fire out with the fire extinguisher. Behind me, I could hear the pixies, but I closed my eyes, content to lie on the floor in a fetal position as the lights flickered back on. The choking hiss of the extinguisher ceased, and all that was left was my ragged breathing. No one moved.

"Damn it, Ivy, do something," Jenks said, the draft from his wings hurting my skin. "Pick her up. I can't help her. I'm too damned small."

At the edge of my awareness, Ivy's boots ground the salt in agitation. "I can't," she whispered. "Look at me, Jenks. I can't touch her."

I took another breath, grateful the pain was gone. Sitting up, I wrapped my arms around my shins and dropped my head to my knees, shaking from the lingering memory of the pain and shock. Damn it, I broke our fridge.

No wonder Al had been so confident. He had said I was helpless, and he was right. And as I sat there, beaten, I felt the first tear of frustration trickle down my face. If I couldn't get Al to treat me with more respect, I would be alone. I couldn't have a deeper relationship with Marshal because I'd make him a target. Pierce wasn't even alive, and he was now going to live out eternity in the ever-after, plucked from my backyard. Eventually Al would turn to Ivy and Jenks. Unless I forced him to conform to common decency, everyone around me was living on a demon's whim.

I couldn't seem to catch a break.

Depressed, I sat on my kitchen floor and tried to keep from shaking. I needed someone to hold me, someone who would wrap me up in a blanket and take care of me while I figured it all out. And having no one, I held myself, holding my breath so another tear wouldn't leak out. I was hurt and in pain, both in my body and heart. I could cry if I wanted to, damn it.

"Ivy," Jenks said, panic in his small voice. "Pick her up. I'm too small. I can't help her. She needs to be touched or she's going to think she's alone."

I am alone.

"I can't!" Ivy shouted, making me jump. "Look at me! If I touch her…"

Eyes wet, I looked up. A shiver ran through me as I saw her before the broken fridge, spent CO₂ dripping from the shelves. Her eyes were full, vampire black. Her hands were clenched with repressed need. Instinct triggered by Rynn Cormel earlier tonight warred with her desire to comfort me. The instincts were winning. If she made one move to help me, she'd end up at my throat.

"I can't touch you," she said, tears slipping from her, making her look beautiful. "I'm so sorry, Rachel. I can't…"

Jenks darted to the ceiling when she shifted into motion. She was fleeing, and in an eyeblink, the kitchen was empty. Wobbling, I got to my feet. She had fled, but I knew she wasn't leaving the church. She just needed the time and space to find herself again.

"It's okay," I whispered, not looking at Jenks as I lurched to my feet. "It's not her fault. Jenks, I'm going to take a shower. I'll be better after a hot shower. Don't let your kids near me until the sun comes up, okay? I couldn't live with myself if Al snatched them."

Jenks hovered where he was as I used the counter and then the wall for balance to stagger to the bathroom, my head down and my eyes unseeing. Behind me, I left the wreckage of the kitchen. A shower wouldn't help, but I had to get out of the room.

I needed someone to hold me and tell me it was going to be okay. But I was alone. Jenks couldn't help me. Ivy couldn't touch me. Hell, even Bis couldn't touch me. Everyone else I had come close to was dead or not strong enough to survive the crap my life dished out.

I was alone, just like Mia had said, and I always would be.

Eighteen

It had been hard staying asleep with Ivy's crashing around this morning, coming in about ten, showering, by the sound of it, and leaving an hour later. Jenks's kids hadn't helped either, flying up and down the hall playing tag with Rex. Nevertheless, I buried my head in my pillow and stayed in bed as seven pounds of kitty fur slammed into walls and knocked over an end table. I was tired, aura sick, and depressed—and I was going to sleep in.

So several hours later, when Jenks locked Rex in my room to get his kids to shut up for their noon nap, I barely heard the front door open and the soft steps pass my door. Ivy, I assumed, and I sighed, snuggling deeper under my coverlet, glad that she'd found a shred of kindness and was going to let me sleep. But no. I was never that lucky.

"Rachel?" came a high-pitched whisper, and the sound of dragonfly wings susurrated into my dream of amber-tinted fields of grain. Pierce was stretched out in them, a stalk of wheat between his teeth, gazing up at red clouds. "You can't kill me, mistress witch," he said, smiling before he vanished with my conscious thought and I fully awoke.

"Go away, Jenks," I mumbled and pulled the blanket over my head.

"Rache, wake up." There was the scrape of my drapes being opened and the harsh clatter of Jenks's wings. "Marshal is here."

"Why?" Lifting my head, I squinted through my hair at the sudden light.

The memory of steps in the hall resurfaced, and I rolled to see my clock. Ten after one. Not much of a sleep-in. The sun was bright through my stained-glass window, and it was cold. Rex was a warm puddle at my feet, and as I watched, she stretched, ending it with an inquiring trill to Jenks, now standing beside the stuffed giraffe on my dresser.

"Marshal is here," he repeated, his angular face looking concerned. "He brought breakfast. You know, doughnuts?"

I propped myself up on an elbow and tried to figure out what was going on. "Oh yeah. Where's Ivy?"