space uninvited. He owns the church.” Standing carefully sideways to him, I shook out the spelling robe he had given me and put it on over my jeans and sweater, doubly glad I’d brought it now. “Or didn’t you know that?” I said, voice muffled.
“No.” Hodin was looking at me as I shimmied the robe into place and tied the sleeves back, bells jingling. My God, it felt nice, all silk and elegance. Sure enough, Hodin’s mood eased even more. The robe was a subtle show that he was needed, appreciated. I was just about desperate for his help now that he was here, but if working with Al had taught me anything, I knew if I asked for it, he’d want something. I was hoping that he’d volunteer out of curiosity.
“Why are you here?” I asked, and Hodin’s anger returned full force.
“You have no right to steal my work,” he said, eyes narrowing.
“I’m not stealing your work,” I said, and when Hodin pointed indignantly at the slate table with my listed ingredients and ten-pointed star, I added, “Drawing a ten-pointed star is not stealing your work. And even if it was, we have a deal. You agreed to stop spying on me.”
I jerked as Hodin strode forward. A wall of haze sprang up between us, and when he walked through it, he came out dressed in black jeans and a T, boots on his feet and wavy hair in disarray. “What are you trying to do?” he said, doing a bad job of hiding his fluster as he stood across the table from me and looked at my sloppy star. “Trying to get a wider spread? It can’t be done. I’ve tried.”
Sitting would have given him the advantage, so I put my hands on my hips and stared down at it. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do, but how did you know I was doing it?” Hodin flushed, and I squinted. “Damn it, Hodin. Stop spying on me!”
“I am not spying on you,” he said shortly, and when I cleared my throat, his eyes met mine. “I’m not, but that’s my work you’re building on. Everyone steals my ideas. First the elves, and now you—everyone taking credit for my innovation and leaving me with not even a footnote of thanks. I’m tired of it. I taught you how to explode a pentagon. What are you doing with it?”
“I’m doing whatever the hell I feel like with it,” I said. “And you are spying on me. I guess that means I can tell Dali about you, then, huh.”
Hodin’s anger shifted to frozen panic. I reached to get my scrying mirror from my bag, and he made an odd gurgling noise. “No, wait,” he said, and I put my arms over my middle. “I’m not spying on you. I, uh, put a mirror on the table when I turned it to slate.”
“A what?”
He sat down, a hand running over his head to muss his hair. “A mirror,” he muttered. “Whatever is scribed on it shows up on the parent table.”
“Which is in your living room, eh?” I said, feeling myself warm. “Take it off.”
“I won’t.” Hodin looked up. “It’s my table. I made it, and you’re stealing my work.”
“Bullshit,” I barked, and Jenks zipped in, drawn by my loud voice. “It’s my table. You turned it to slate, but it is my table. Take it off. Now!”
“Jeez, Rache. Can’t I leave you for five minutes?” Jenks said as he helped himself to another mug from my coffee before perching on the rim to make an oily dust on the surface.
“Tell me what you’re doing to my curse,” Hodin insisted.
“Take the mirror off, and I will,” I countered, and Hodin glared up at me.
“Fine. Speculum speculorum,” he muttered, making a gesture over my table. I would have questioned it, but I felt a drop in the ley line, and the words loosely translated to mirror of mirrors.
“Rache. Look at what he did to my wing,” Jenks said as the caffeine hit him and he rose in a swirl of dust. “Scorched it with his lame-ass line energy. I can hardly fly. See? Look at it.”
But he was hovering so close, I couldn’t. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t have cut off his ear. You look okay to me. Hang tight, okay?”
Jenks turned in midair, spilling his coffee as he looked Hodin up and down. “Hear that, Home Slice? She wants me to hang tight.”
“Keep your dust off the table.” Hodin eyed me uneasily.