“Yeah, we’re fine,” he said, his voice unusually loud through the tiny speaker. “But something with eight arms and a mouth just tried to eat Hodin. Naturally I thought of you. What’s up?”

  I exhaled, slumping into one of those nasty chairs. He was okay. “That was Al. We’re talking again. How’s the church?”

  “The bell might be cracked. Hodin is gone.” He hesitated. “He has Stef,” he said softly.

  Damn it to the Turn. . . . “We’ll get her back.” I touched Newt’s book, wishing I could take it home. “He played me, Jenks,” I said, feeling stupid. “Pike’s bad bet, Getty being hit and needing your help, Trent’s business troubles. Me getting covered in smut. He’s trying to strip everyone from me so I lose control of Cincy and he can step in.”

  Jenks’s laughter sounded like wind chimes. “That’s going to be hard with Al chasing him. You want me to come with you to class? You got time to stop at the church. We can bring Getty. She needs to get out. She’s driving me crazy. That woman doesn’t like to sit still.”

  My first impulse was to say no, but I hesitated and really thought about it. I didn’t think my life was in danger unless Hodin showed up, and in that case, Jenks wouldn’t be much help, especially if Getty was there. “No,” I said as I stood and reluctantly reshelved Newt’s book. “Trent is going to meet me after class for a late lunch, and we’ll probably end up at the church.”

  “Be pixy-careful,” he said, sounding like my dad telling me to be home early. “Ah, sorry about Stef, but she made her own decision.”

  “Based on my advice,” I said softly. My fingers tingled as they left the book’s spine, and I wondered if I could sneak it out of here. It wasn’t as if anyone else could use it. Or even notice, probably. I’ll be back for you. Promise. “Hey, I found out where Sikes is,” I added sourly. “I’m going to have to scare the living daylights out of his class before Dali lures them into waiting tables, too. I should have guessed Dali was abducting people again when he quit Junior’s.” Crap on toast. This is not what I need right now.

  “Dali, eh?” Jenks said. “Figures. You finally get a barista to make your coffee how you like it, and they quit to open their own place in another reality.”

  A faint hint of magic rippled over my aura, and I looked up—right as Al popped back in.

  “Al!” I cried, and he spun, the ragged robe he now wore furling around his ankles. I’d never seen him in it before, a dirty red at the shoulders changing to almost black from filth at the torn hem. It clung tight to his waist and wrists, tapering to his heels to give his legs the freedom to move. His slippers were more like boots and leggings all in one, the silk rising in a precise woven zigzag pattern up to his knees. The scent of burnt amber rolled from him, stark and strong, almost repellent. He saw my surprise, and then he misted out, returning in his usual green velvet. A wad of dark green silk hung in his hands, and he dropped it on the table.

  “Jenks. Gotta go,” I said, and the phone went dark.

  “Wear this,” Al said, breathless but taut with tension, and I blinked, eyes watering.

  “That’s not my robe,” I said as I held it up, and a pair of green slippers/boots matching his own fell from the black, bell-decked sash. “Did you find him?”

  “Find him? Yes. Get him, no.” Lips twisted, Al flexed his hand, now red with a soft burn. “I would have had him if not for that cursed elven bell giving away my presence.”

  He’d missed, and a sliver of fear spiked through me to leave only anger. “I, ah, set it up to know if he was spying on me.” God, I felt stupid. Embarrassed. Angry. But mostly I was mad. Jaw clenched, I set the robe on the table, the green and black silk puddling like water.

  “You will be pleased to know I restrained myself. Your pixies are fine and your church is intact.” Al studied me in disgust. “Hodin has fled, but he will return.” Coattails furling, Al spun, unhesitating as he plucked four widely spaced books from the shelves and shoved them at me. “These are yours. Take them. Newt willed them to you.”

  “She had a will?” I said, shocked as they tumbled into my arms. One was the book with the countercurse, and a thrill struck through me.

  But before he could answer, Al stiffened, and we both turned to a soft scrape in the hall.

  “Stop!” Lenny exclaimed, pale as he lurched out from where he’d been hiding in the stacks. “Those belong to the library.”

  I froze, four tingling books in my arms. I wanted them. Wanted them all. Telling Al he should take his books was one thing. This was another, and my words choked to nothing.

  Smirking, Al looked at Lenny over his glasses. “They were stolen from Newt and I say they now belong to Rachel. Ta.”

  “Al?” I called as a swirl of gray and black rose up in the tiny room, and then he was gone, nothing to say he’d been there but eight empty spots on the shelf and a hint of burnt amber hanging in the stagnant air.

  “They belong to the library,” Lenny warbled, but Al had shaken him and his words lacked conviction.

  The books in my grip were warm, wanting to be on my shelf. Faint in the back of my mind, an almost subliminal uproar was raging. Al had dropped into the collective and an impromptu, loud meeting was taking place. Clearly war had been declared on Hodin—and I wasn’t going to do a damn thing to stop it.

  “Um, I found out who took your books,” I said, and Lenny stared, eyes wide, arms at his sides—helpless and knowing he was down eight more. “It’s the demons,” I added. “The good news is they’re only taking the ones that belonged to them.”

  I couldn’t look at him as I shoved the books into my bag with Dali’s and dropped the silk robe on top. I didn’t recognize the puddling fabric, but my initial thought that it had been Ceri’s seemed unlikely. The slippers would have been too large for the petite late elf. Al had seldom dressed her in green, either. The cut, too, was odd, being tight about the waist and wrist. And the shoes? Couldn’t really call them slippers. The bindings would go up to my knees. It wasn’t the usual spelling robe, and I wondered what Al had given me.

  Brow furrowed, Lenny made a soft sound of protest as I hoisted the heavy bag over my shoulder. “Those books have been in our collection for hundreds of years,” he said, but the high-pitched whine in his voice told me it was all over but for the conference call with the library’s trustees. “And before that, private collections.”

  “True.” I stood before him, wanting to go, but he was blocking my way. “But they were written by demons who are still alive, not decedents. Stolen property goes back to the original owners.”

  Lenny gestured helplessly. “I can’t tell my boss that the demons are taking their books.”

  “Why not?” I hoisted my shoulder bag higher, anxious to leave. “Look, doesn’t the university have a protocol for returning illegally obtained artifacts? It’s the same thing. I’m not saying you have to contact every demon to try to make reparations. Not many of them actually wrote anything down. And some of the books are so old and outdated that they probably don’t want them anyway.”

  “I don’t have the authority to release books. Not that old,” he said, voice going soft as he slumped against one of the stacks, fingers pressing into his temples.

  Pity rose, and I touched his shoulder, startling him. “Lenny, the missing books belong to them,” I said softly, wondering if I should tell him my suspicions concerning Melody. “If they start taking things that don’t belong to them, I can step in, but not until.” I hesitated, thinking. “Maybe they will bring them back if you offer them a yearly stipend to store them here.”

  Lenny’s breath caught. “Would you?”

  Wincing at his hope, I shook my head. No. I would not. The second Al dropped the four books into my arms, they were mine, like a puppy. It was more than searching for another spell to use on Finnis. They needed me, and they were going on my shelf where I could take care of them. “Maybe you could call it a permanent loan.”

  Lenny’s groan sent a flash of guilt through me, quickly quashed. It felt good to be moving, my hair shifting from my face as the last of the mystics were stripped away. My breath came in fast as I found the long hallway to the stairway, and my pace increased. “I’m sorry, Lenny,” I said as I heard him following. “This was not my intention when I came over today. I’ll try to get something on paper that shows they are mine, and maybe something from Dali and Al proving ownership of the ones they have. Until then, I’m taking them home.”

  Home, where they would sit on my shelf between my Betty Bob’s Cookbook for One and my Twenty-Five Easy Pentagrams for the Beginning Practitioner.

  “Um, about those books . . .” he tried again as he made a lurching step to catch up, and I kept walking, not envying his afternoon. Hey, sorry, but the woman I brought in to find out who lifted our ancient books claims they were stolen and took some for herself.

  Newt’s books tingled warm against me through the bag, and I touched them as if they were a nest of soft, helpless bunnies waiting to burst into flame and set the world on fire. Feeling for the first time as if I might be able to do this, I started up the stairs, sure now that I’d find a substitute for an Atlantean reflecting telescope. I’d get Pike’s brother uncursed, and any smut I gained doing it was going to end up on Hodin. I had discovered his intentions before it was too late, and my friends were coming back, one by one.

  But first, I had a class to teach.

  CHAPTER

  16

  Coffee in one hand, lavender heels dangling from the other, I strode through the aboveground tunnel from the university’s administration building to Kalamack Hall, where they did all the high-level magic labs. I’d taken the building connector instead of the sidewalk because I thought it would be air-conditioned, but no amount of cool forced air could touch the heat from the sun streaming in. My demon shoes made a soft hush on the sun-warmed tile. I wasn’t late, but my quick stop at Junior’s for a to-go coffee and to confirm that Dali had quit had robbed me of my chance to be early. Stopping at the bathroom to change into my robe had put me behind even more. The shoes had given me trouble. Oh, they were the right size, but it had taken me a good three goes to figure out how to lace the leggings so they wouldn’t slip down when I walked.

  Heads rose at the soft jingling of the bells on my black sash as I reached the end and blew into the main building. Jaw set, I tugged my seriously book-heavy, jacket-bulky bag higher up my shoulder. “Wear this,” I mocked in a bad imitation of Al, but in all honesty, the interview suit had make me look like a student bucking for an A, and I tightened my jingling sash as I went up the stairs, a vision of billowing green and black silk, silver bells, and red hair. All I needed was the flat-topped, round hat.

  Eyes were on me, and I grimaced at the click of a phone camera. I am powerful, I thought, channeling my inner Newt as I rose to the second floor and headed for room 273. I am unique. I am forgetful and unbalanced.

  I did not want to be here, I needed to be home twisting curses when Hodin came to get his stuff. But I had promised Vivian, and seeing as Dali had snagged their instructor, maybe I could convince a handful of university students to pick a safer career. Like a dragon vet, maybe.

  My pulse hammered as I stopped short at the door. Light conversation sounded behind it. Taking a slow breath, I opened the door, walked in, and shut it firmly behind me.

  I didn’t acknowledge them, my gaze fixed on the tech-rich podium and the long table beside it. The sun was bright, and there was a vid screen instead of a chalkboard.

  “Oh, my God . . .” someone whispered as the multitude of conversations ebbed, and I stopped at the table to set my coffee, heels, and overflowing bag atop it. Somehow Newt’s books had worked their way to the top, and I yanked my lavender jacket to cover them. Not my first choice for show-and-tell, even if they are students of demonology.

  Only then did I look up, hiding my hands behind me as I took a moment to quietly panic. It was a small class. Twenty kids, maybe, and they were kids, some in shorts and tees, some in sundresses, their laptops open and surfing the web, earbuds mainlining music into their brains. Half stared at me in wonder, half were trying to decide if they should laugh.

  Dead, I thought as my own sense of failure rose high in me. You are all dead witches walking if you stay this course. I cleared my throat, and the two students in the back broke from their shared video, blinking in surprise. “Good afternoon. I’m Rachel Morgan. I’m teaching your class today. There’s a reason your instructor is gone,” I started, and the guy in the front row with the worn Howlers cap sniggered.

  “You came to class in your pajamas?”

  My eyebrows rose as I noted who laughed and if it was nervous or mean. “This is a spelling robe,” I said as I took my hands from behind my back and posed for them, letting them see the stars and moons and how it gave me freedom of movement without sacrificing coverage. “It’s a particularly rare silk woven into a glyph-based weave that incorporates charms to help isolate my aura and prevent it from contaminating a high-level curse or charm. The frequency the bells emit confuses mystics, who are attracted to strong draws on the lines, thereby helping prevent Goddess-based mischief. I’m wearing it in the hopes that some of you will realize how deep the water is and that you have been swimming in it without protective gear.” I paused to let that sink in, taking the opportunity to sip my cooling coffee before setting it on the edge of the podium.

  “Anyone else want to poke fun at my safety equipment? No? Good, because I didn’t have time to prep a class and I’m going to have to wing it.” Not wanting to hide behind a podium, I moved to stand before the table, leaning against it in what I hoped appeared to be confidence. Someone had done a search for me on the web, and they were whispering over my old I.S. ID photo—the one where I looked as if I had walked into a blowtorch.

  “I recently found out that a demon I’ve allowed to live in my church is trying to screw me over. You want to talk about that?” I said bitterly. “Or we could talk about Professor Sikes, who has been tricked into signing a contract with the self-made leader of the demons. Either situation has a good chance of landing me in the ever-after with same said spoiled, ego-ridden, bored magic users if I don’t do something about it, so let’s use this afternoon productively, mmmm?”

  They stared, but at least they weren’t ignoring me. Even the guys in the last row.

  “Does anyone have a syllabus?” I said after about three heartbeats of silence, and a young woman in the second row began shuffling her papers. “Thank you,” I said as she passed it forward, and I glanced over it as I slid up and back to sit on the table, bells jingling. My feet dangled, and I swung them to show off the lacing pattern on my leggings.

  “How to summon a demon,” I said, head down. “Wow. Right on day one. Protection against an escaped demon. That should have been first. Dark versus illegal: how to tell a curse from a white spell. Prevention of ley line abduction. How to choose, develop, and use a familiar to protect you. New laws protecting practitioners.” I sighed as I dropped the paper. Adsimulo calefacio, I thought, tapping briefly into the demon collective for the stored curse, and the paper flamed, burning to ash before it hit the tiled floor. “This is useless,” I said, grimacing at their lack of response.

  “Week one.” I slipped from the table and began pacing to make my bells ring. “Your instructor should have told you that demons can’t be summoned now that the curse binding them to the ever-after has been broken, so don’t try. Leave Grandma’s ashes on the mantel.” I spun at the windows and began my return trip. “And really, why would you piss one off by summoning him away from his dinner when you can go down to the waterfront and talk to one for the price of a coffee? Oh, wait a moment,” I added sourly. “Dali just quit, seeing as he’s given up his nine-to-five and abducted your instructor into abject slavery.”

  “She said his name,” the woman said as she glanced up from her notes.

  Good God. They’re taking notes. “I said his common name,” I corrected her. “Not his summoning name.”

  “Because he would show up?” the guy in the Howlers cap said, voice mocking.

  “What’s your name?” I said, and his foot twitched. Yeah, it’s a little harder when it’s your anonymity I’m asking for.

  “Tony.”

  “Well, Tony. I’m not telling you Dali’s summoning name because if I did, he might tell you mine, and even though you can’t summon me with it anymore, it’s my password into the demon collective. If you have that, you not only have access to their accumulated curses, but I’m the one who pays for anything you take out. Not happening.”

  A guy at the back raised his hand. “Then that is really a demon? Down at the coffee shop?”

  I found my coffee, careful to keep my attention off my demon-book-laden bag. “With the goat-slitted, red eyes?” I nodded, took a sip, and warmed it with a thought. There wasn’t even a glimmer of reaction from them. Crap on toast. What does it take to impress them?

  “It was, but he quit,” I added. “Now that demons don’t reliably smell like burnt amber, the only way to tell if you’re dealing with a demon is the eyes. They can change them, but they usually don’t bother. Demons can be anything or anyone, but they love to be recognized even when they’re trying to be someone else. It’s an ego thing.”

  I waited while half the class wrote that down. Gawwwd . . . “Moving on. Weeks two and three. Protection against an escaped demon.” I sighed, hoping Sikes hadn’t gotten this far yet, filling their heads with duck and cover. “There is no protection against a demon other than to treat him with respect, but my advice is to steer clear and find what you need to know some other way. If you can’t find it in the library, you don’t need it. If a demon wants to teach you . . .” My words trailed off. Al wanted to teach me. Dali was teaching Keric for the pure joy of it. But nine times out of ten, they only taught you if they wanted to use you.