A last look at the instructions to be sure I had everything at the counter, and I kicked off a sandal. "Where's your cat, Jenks?" I said, not wanting to trap her in with me.

He took to the air. "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty…"he called, and with a chirping trill, her orange face appeared at the hall archway. She was licking her lips, but Jenks wasn't troubled.

"Rhombus," I said softly, touching my toe to the salt circle. The single word of Latin invoked a hard-won series of mental exercises that condensed the five-minute prep and invocation of setting a circle into an instant. I stifled a jerk as the circle closed with a snap. Jenks's wings whirled as a molecule-thin sheet of ever-after rose up between us to keep any influences out while I worked the medicinal-class ley line charm. I was impulsive, not stupid.

Rex padded in, rubbing against the barrier as if it were covered in catnip. I'd take that as a sign that she might want to be my familiar—if she didn't run every time I tried to pick her up.

I grimaced at the ugly black sheen of demon smut crawling over my bubble, discoloring the usual cheerful gold of my aura. It was a visual display of the imbalance I carried on my soul, a reminder of the debt I owed for having twisted reality so far out of alignment that I could become a wolf and Jenks grew to human size. The discoloration was nothing compared to the thousand years of demon-curse imbalance that Ceri carried, but it bothered me.

All but the smallest amount of ever-after energy I had tapped had gone into maintaining the circle, but there was the tingle of a new buildup of force filtering in. It would continue to grow until I let go of the line completely. Many witches were said to have gone insane from trying to stretch what their chi could hold by allowing the pressure to build beyond what they could safely contain, but when my chi overflowed, I could spindle the line energy in my head. Demons could do the same, and their familiars. Ceri and I were the only two people this side of the lines who could spindle line energy. That we had survived Al with the knowledge intact hadn't been the demon's intent. Ceri had taught me the basics, but Al was the one who'd stretched my tolerances and made the skill second nature—by way of an excruciating amount of pain.

"Ah, Rachel?" Jenks said, green-tinted sparkles slipping from him to pool in the sink. "It's worse than usual."

My good mood vanished, and I frowned at the demon smut. "Yeah, well, I'm trying to get rid of it," I muttered, then pulled my sketched pentagram forward.

Taking up a stone crucible I had bought at a ley line shop up in Mackinaw, I set it in the lowest space between the bottom of the pentagram and the circle surrounding it. Fingers still touching it, I murmured, "Adaequo," to set it in place and give its presence meaning.

I felt a small surge from the line and twitched. Oh, it was one of those spells. Great.

My nose tickled. I stiffened, realizing I hadn't brought any tissue in with me. "Oh, no," I said, my voice rising. Jenks looked panicked, and I sneezed. He was laughing when I brought my head up. Looking frantically for something to wipe my nose with, I settled on a scratchy paper towel, managing to tear off twice what I needed and getting it to my face just in time for the follow-up sneeze. Crap, I had to finish this spell fast.

The big-ass, symbolic knife I had gotten at Findley Market from a cheerful woman went in the center space with the words me auctore, and a feather was given meaning when I placed it with the strength of lenio in the lower left-hand leg of the star. My nose was starting to tickle again, and I hurriedly checked the textbook.

"Iracundia," I said, holding my breath as I set Jenks's dandelion in the other leg of the star. All that was left was the candle.

The force in me had been building with every word, and with my eye twitching I set the blessed candle carefully in the topmost section of the star, hoping it wouldn't fall over and spill wax on my chalkboard so I'd be spending tomorrow cleaning it with toluene. This one wouldn't be set with a place-name until I lit it, and with that in mind, I plucked the bamboo skewer from where I had left it, setting it aflame again from the vanilla candle.

Wiping my free hand on my jeans, I shifted from foot to foot and transferred the flame to the blessed candle. "Evulgo," I whispered, wincing as a surge came in from the line. My eyes widened. Oh, God, I was going to sneeze again. I didn't want to know what it might do to my spell if it wasn't cast yet.

I moved fast. Grabbing the feather, I dropped it into the crucible. I snatched up the knife, and before I could get uptight about the ugly symbolism, I pricked my thumb and squeezed out three drops of blood. I would rather have used one of my finger sticks, but ley line magic was based on symbolism, and it made a difference.

The knife went back into its little spot, and I peered at the text, thumb in my mouth so I didn't get blood all over the place. "Non sum qualis eram," I said, remembering it from another spell. Must be a generic phrase for invocation.

My urge to sneeze vanished, and I jerked in surprise when the crucible was engulfed in flame. There was a whoosh, accompanied by twang through me. The cheerful red-and-orange flames flashed to a weird gold and black that matched my damaged aura—and went out.

Wide-eyed, I pulled my gaze from the soot-blackened crucible to Jenks, hovering over the sink. There wasn't anything in the bowl but a smear of ash stinking of burnt vegetation.

"Was that what was supposed to happen?" he asked.

Like I know? "Uh, yeah," I said, pretending to look at the text. "See, I'm not sneezing."

I took a careful breath through my nose, then another, more relaxed one. My shoulders eased, and I let myself smile. I loved it when I learned something new.

"Good," Jenks grumbled, taking to the air to hover before the bubble, still up and running. " 'Cause I'm not getting rid of my cat."

With a small thought, I broke my connection with the ley line. The circle vanished, and Jenks flew in to land next to the crucible, his tiny features wrinkled in distaste. Content, I closed the textbook and started to clean up my mess before Ivy got home. "I told you I wasn't…" My words cut off as my nose started to tickle. "I'm not…" I started again, feeing my eyes widen. Jenks stared at me, horror in his expression.

Eyes watering, I waved helplessly. "Achoo!" I exclaimed, hunching over, my hair falling to hide my face. It was followed by another, then another. Ah, crap, I'd made things worse.

"The Turn take it," I gasped between sneezes. "I know I did it right!"

"Ivy's got some pills," Jenks said. I could hear his wings, but I was too busy try ing to catch my breath to look at him. He sounded worried. I knew I was. "In her bathroom," he added. "Maybe they'll help."

I bobbed my head, then sneezed again. Ivy had caught a cold last spring when we'd come back from Michigan. She had moped around the church for three days, coughing and blowing her nose—snarling at me every time I suggested making her a charm. She had taken pills with her orange juice every afternoon.

My breath came in little pants, and my nose tickled. Crap. Lurching to the hallway, I sneezed again. "I'm not allergic to cats," I said while I groped to turn the light on. My reflection looked terrible, my hair all over the place and my nose running. I opened the cupboard, uncomfortable rummaging in her things.

"This one!" Jenks said, tugging at a thin amber vial.

I sneezed three more times while I fumbled to get the stupid thing open, trying to read that I was to take two pills every four hours. Why in hell had I tried to use ley line magic? I should have known better than to self-administer a medicinal charm. The aides in Emergency were going to laugh their asses off if I had to go in for a counterspell.