I didn't shift my eyes from him, but it was hard not to look at Ivy, who had turned with that beefsteak swathed in a towel, a smile quirking her lips. "Yeah, a nice and quiet night," I said, hoping he didn't see my spell books. Fingers slow, I folded the paper up and set it deliberately on top of them.

Ivy turned her back on us, but I think she was still smiling as she continued washing the tomatoes, setting them to dry one by one.

"Well, I gotta go," Glenn said, dusting his hands and looking at the leftover pizza. "Thanks, ladies. Don't let my dad get to you. He really wants to nail this woman and doesn't realize what he's asking of you."

"No problem." Now I felt guilty, and I stood up, handing him the pizza box. His eyes lit up as he took it, but I wished he'd get out of here. I had to prep for tonight. Sure, I had agreed not to circle Al, but there were other ways to catch a demon, and I wondered if turning him into a mouse would work. I knew I could do that one. "Have a great New Year's, Glenn."

The FIB detective smiled. "You, too." He picked up one of the clean tomatoes and tucked it in his pocket. Winking, he said, "Don't tell my dad about the tomatoes, okay?"

"I'll take it to my grave." Which might be as soon as tonight…

Ivy turned from folding up the grocery bag and sliding it under the sink. "Glenn, are you headed in to work?" she asked, and he hesitated.

"Ye-e-es," he hedged. "You want a ride?"

"I have a few words of wisdom for Edden about that little bitch of a banshee," she said, grimacing, then added, looking at me, "Unless you need me to stick around?"

Jenks's wings clattered in agitation, and mystified, I glanced at my spell books. "I'm just going to play with my junior cook books," I said, and then worried that guilt might make her try to face Mia alone, I added, "You'll be back before the ball drops, right?"

The rim of brown around her eyes shrank slightly. "You know it. I'll get my coat," she said, and turning, she strode out of the kitchen, moving with that eerie grace.

From the paper, Jenks muttered, "Need her to stick around? Who does she think she is?"

"I heard that!" Ivy shouted from the sanctuary, and there was a squeal of pixies.

Glenn was moving to the door. "Take care of yourself, Rachel," he said, and I angled for a hug, my bad mood squeezed out by the big man who now smelled like pizza.

"You, too," I said, my smile fading as I became serious and rocked back. "Glenn, I want to get this woman, but it needs some solid planning."

"You don't need to tell me twice."

He turned to follow Ivy, and I touched his sleeve, stopping him. "Hey, if you see Ford today, will you tell him I'm ready to make an appointment?"

A smile holding what looked like pride came over him. "I will. Good for you, Rachel."

"Glenn?" came from the sanctuary, and he rolled his eyes.

"Coming, Mother," he called, and headed out, pizza box in hand. I heard his feet in the hall, a chorus of tiny good-byes, and the door closing. Content, I slid the pancake mix away.

Jenks sat on the rim of the coffeemaker, his wings fanning in the rising warmth. "You might want to get dressed if you're going to fight demons today," he said, and I looked at him from around my sleep-stringy hair.

"Will you watch the door while I shower?" I asked, and he buzzed his wings.

"Duh."

The pixies were loud, playing with the cherry tomatoes as I shuffled into my bathroom to get the water going. I was looking forward to a long soak, and I blissfully lost myself in lather, rinse, and repeat. Eyes closed, I stood under the hot water and breathed in the steam, reluctant to get out and get back to my life. I'd spent four years using a crappy, low-volume shower thanks to Mrs. Talbu, and the high-output, energy-inefficient head that Ivy had installed even before I'd moved in was better than therapy. Not that I needed therapy. Na-a-a-ah. Not me.

The spray suddenly went cold, and gasping, I pushed from the wall, making my back smack the one behind me. "Jenks!" I shouted in a burst of adrenaline. "Knock it off!"

The water hitting my feet grew warm, but my mood had soured and I got out and reached for my towel. My motions were rough as I dried my hair and worked my way down. Apparently Jenks thought I was clean enough. Wrapped in a towel, I swiped at the mirror to take stock. Not too bad, I decided, apart from lingering circles under my eyes. Not too bad at all for having been bitch-slapped by a banshee twice in as many days.

From outside the door came the clatter of pixy wings and a hesitant "Rachel?"

My towel slipped as I rummaged for a complexion spell. "Very funny, Jenks. I could have slipped and cracked my head open." The humming of wings grew louder, and I snatched my towel higher. "Jenks!" I exclaimed as he darted under the door. "I didn't say to come in!"

His wings a bright red, Jenks turned his back on me. "Sorry. Uh, I thought you ought to know Marshal is here," he said apologetically.

Panic iced through me, and I tightened my grip on my towel. "Get him out of here, Jenks!" I just about hissed. "I've been shunned!"

The pixy glanced over his shoulder, then revolved in the air to face me. "I think he knows already. He wants to talk to you. Rache, I'm sorry. He looks mad."

Shit, I'd been shunned. Marshal hadn't come over to hold my hand and tell me he could make it all better. I'd told him I was a white witch, and I was, but now…"

"Tell him to go away," I said, chickening out. "Tell him to leave before someone knows he's here and they shun him, too." But the pixy only shook his head.

"No. He has a right to tell you to your face."

I took a breath. My head started to hurt. This is going to be way fun. Turning to the mirror, I started brushing my hair. Arms crossed, Jenks waited for the right answer. The brush got tangled in my hair, and frustrated, I smacked it on the tiny counter. "I'll be out in three minutes," I said to get him to leave.

Nodding, he dropped to the floor. A faint glimmer of light, and he was gone.

I had underwear in the dryer and a camisole hanging over the industrial-size tub. My bathroom was really a glorified laundry room, but it was easier than sharing the more traditional bathroom across the hall with Ivy. Besides, I had jeans fresh from the dryer most days. No socks, though, I thought as I gave my hair a last brush and let it hang damp.

Worried, I quietly opened the door and looked hesitantly down the hall. It was cool out here compared to the moist warmth of the bathroom, and I could smell fresh coffee. Padding down the hall on silent bare feet, I peeked into the kitchen to find Marshal sitting with his back to me. I was out of his peripheral eyesight, and I hesitated.

He looked empty, or maybe just deep in thought as he stared at the grimy floor where the fridge had been, probably wondering what happened. His long legs were bent comfortably under the table, and the reflected sun glinted on his short curly hair. This was going to be hard. I didn't blame him for being mad at me. I'd told him I was a white witch and he had trusted me. Society said different.

Resolute, I pushed myself off the archway and into the kitchen. "Hi."

Marshal pulled his feet under him and spun. "Hey, you gave me a start," he said, his eyes wide and color flashing into his face. "I didn't expect you out for another ten minutes."

Giving him a tiny smile, I looked for something to hide behind, but all that was between us was space. Lots of new space. "You want some coffee?"

The cups scraped as I got two new ones out, and he said nothing as I filled them. He remained silent as I slid one in front of him. "I'm sorry," I said as I retreated, putting the island counter between us. Scared, almost, I took a sip. Hot bitterness slipped down. Gathering my courage, I set the mug by the sink. "Marshal—"