It was the first time I’d ever seen actual weaves with her magic.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Tripwire three was set off,” Emery said, back to working on his spell.

“Five for me,” I said, refocusing.

In two hours, we’d created a small pile of spells tucked into casings, some of which would soon be used to create the sight-blocking, sound-deadening walls. We also had a half-dozen magical tripwires placed around the fields surrounding the warehouse. In addition to alerting us of intruders, the tripwires would give a little tag to the first ten people who passed through them. Then, when we released certain casings, they’d get a nasty surprise.

This was assuming they didn’t find and tear down the spells immediately, of course.

Reagan looked back at her spell. “Okay, let’s pack it in. Get some water and a rest. That means they are crawling into position, the snakes.”

“Two hours is a long time,” I said, picking up my power stones. “If this were a normal practice, we’d probably be done by now.”

“We’d be getting ready to go to the car.” Reagan left her spell, but it didn’t fold back into the universe. It stayed where it was, a strange sort of hall of magic within the warehouse. “Either they’re planning to surprise us as we leave, or they’re slow to get organized.” She stopped by the door and put her palm on the wood. “I wish we had a spell for seeing through solid material.”

“Humans came up with that one. It’s called glass.” Emery grabbed his basket of spells and walked it back to the table.

Reagan turned and stared at him, before glancing up at the various windows high in the walls. “This is true.”

A tingling sensation crawled up my spine. Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky awoke from a bored stupor and sent out a pulse of power.

Emery, now stalking across the room toward Reagan, stalled and glanced back at the stone. “Did you feel that?” he asked me.

“Yes.”

He nodded and resumed his walk. “That’s what drew me to it in the first place. That pulse. A moment later, I was ambushed by goblins.”

43

“Ambushed…” It took a moment for that word, and its implications, to set in. Adrenaline raged through me, erasing all fatigue. “How can you be so blasé?”

I snatched up my basket with suddenly shaking hands. Two casings jumped out and rolled away. After collecting them again, I hurried them to the table and went back for my stones, collecting them and putting them in their various compartments. Except for Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky, Emery’s Plain Jane, and my chunk of Red Beryl, pumping fiery power into the air. It was trying to keep pace with the other two, which would hopefully help boost its power.

“Calm, Penny,” Reagan said in a firm tone, nothing like her usual flippant attitude in the face of danger.

“How can you tell me to stay calm when you sound like that?” I blew out a breath, my legs shaking.

“We’re prepared. We’re ready.” Reagan shot Emery a confused and distracted look when he stopped beside her. “What do you want?”

“I’m your ladder. Stand on my shoulders so you can see.”

A half grin flitted across her face. “No, you wouldn’t have figured out my secret on your own. You were told, and you still have no idea what I can do.”

His expression closed down—which was replaced by wide-eyed shock when Reagan rose into the sky, floating or levitating or flying, I didn’t know, but she left the ground and floated up like a freaking genie.

Up until then, I’d had no idea how much she was holding back.

“You win.” I palmed my heart, in complete awe. “Hands down, you win the contest for the coolest magic. No question.”

Emery nodded mutely.

Reagan stopped her ascent at the side of the window and looked out.

A swear word drifted across the warehouse.

I danced from side to side, my flight reflex in overdrive. Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky started pounding with power, thrusting it into the air like a drumbeat. The Red Beryl fizzed and sparkled, something I had never seen it do.

Plain Jane stayed true to its look. No excitement at all. Cool as a cucumber.

“That’s why you’re Emery’s. Right there, that’s why. Stone matches master.” I blew out a breath and jogged in a small circle. I had to do something; I could feel the presence of magic now—sharp, dull, ragged, smooth, all pumping into the warehouse. Collecting in a huge pool of magical intent.

“Oh gobbledygook twatwallop. Butt crack solstice alert. Flubber fart bugger balls.”

“What is she saying?” Reagan said in exasperation.

“I think she has abandoned her usual recipe for slant-swearing in panic.” Emery watched Reagan float to another window. He cocked his head. “Another two tripwires.”

I rose my hand, jogging in place. It felt like my spine was wiggling as people tramped across my tripwires. “Tripwires. Tripwires.”

“We’re surrounded,” Reagan said, lowering. “They must’ve collected out of sight and marched at us in synchronicity. They had information on us. They’ve been watching.”

“What’s the plan?” I asked, wringing my hands.

Trap. Kill. Trap. Kill.

It felt like a huge magical net rose around the warehouse. Some of us would be preserved. Some killed.

I would live.

Reagan would surely die.

I wasn’t sure about Emery.

“Oh bull cocks. Fuckity shit stains.”

“Whoa.” Reagan laughed.

“Penny Bristol, I am telling your mother.” Emery laughed and stuffed ingredients into his pockets. “I should’ve gotten a new utility belt.”

“Here.” Reagan unslung her fanny pack from around her waist. “Use this. I won’t need it now that I’m not pretending.”

He paused, looking unsure.

Reagan shook it. “Hurry.”

He didn’t step forward.

“What’s the matter?” she asked impatiently.

“I made it through my youth without ever succumbing to that trend, only to do so in my twenties?” He shook his head.

“If you call it a fanny pack one more time, I’m going to break your face. It is a pouch! Now put it on, Mr. Fashion.” She zipped it up and chucked it at him.

Reagan paused in front of her magical spectacle. If I didn’t know better, and maybe I didn’t, she was unsure. That was not good.

As if hearing my thoughts, she said, “I really hope this works.”

“Oh good, yeah. Yes, let’s hope it works. Yup.” I jogged in another circle like a hyperactive dog. “But let’s not say what it is, exactly.”

“It is my father’s legacy, and it is about time I learn to use it.” She blew out a deep breath, turning to watch Emery adjust the fanny pack to fit around his much larger waist. He shook his head as he clipped it on.

“We are in a very bad situation, about to get worse, but it would be remiss if I didn’t mention that someone should get a picture of him wearing that.” I pointed at him as I attempted a sort of tap dance across the floor.

“What in the holy hell are you doing, Penny?” Reagan demanded. But she did raise her phone and snap off a picture of Emery. Before filming me.

It would’ve looked better if I’d taken even one tap dance lesson in my life.

Emery pulled out handfuls of empty casings. “Are you a hoarder? What is all this?”

“It’s for show. Let’s go, Emery. Your lady love is about to lose it.”

“Oh, I’ve lost it. It’s gone. Long gone. And you know what?” I clapped and danced back toward them. “There isn’t one closet in this whole godforsaken warehouse. Not one. Not even a freaking nook or cranny. There is nowhere to hide. I’ve gotten myself into a pickle this time. Did you know they are basically chanting kill, kill, kill out there? Yeah. Magically chanting it. Do you who they want to kill?” I pointed at Reagan. I pointed at Emery. “Maybe. I don’t know. But definitely—” I pointed at her again.

“It makes it more fun when they mean business.” Reagan watched as Emery finished shoving ingredients and casings into the fanny pack. “We ready?”