all assertive,” Alex half laughed. Then, as realization hit, “We—who’s we?”
“Me and Lachlan. Are you sure the… the prison yard of animals isn’t going to attack?”
“No,” Alex said shortly. “But I can bring you guys umbrellas. They helped me. Hang on.”
He disappeared from the kitchen window, and Bartholomew hung up. As he shoved his phone into his pocket, he fingered the amulet at his throat and looked at Lachlan. When he’d awakened that afternoon, Lachlan had been draping it over his neck and had made Bartholomew do the same before he was quite fully awake. “For protection,” he’d said, looking troubled. “And because I want your friends to see I’m your sidekick, okay?”
Bartholomew had nodded and kissed him, feeling bold, and they’d both been surprised as a small glow emanated from the discs at their necks, fading as the kiss faded.
Well, apparently the magic approved, which was really reassuring.
“Where’s the velvet bag with the other discs?” he asked. “I think we should give Alex his immediately. He’s gonna lose it completely if we don’t calm him down.”
Lachlan nodded and pointed to the front door. “Here, let’s get out and meet him halfway.”
As Alex ran under the cover of the umbrella, a small squadron of starlings dropped from their perches and went gunning for him. Bartholomew squawked and grabbed the velvet bag from Lachlan’s hand, then ran for his friend in panic as Lachlan called helplessly after him.
Alex flapped the umbrella and the starlings bounced off, and Bartholomew hugged the car to evade the snakes hanging from the apple tree, none of whom looked poisonous but all of whom were hissing.
“Here,” Bartholomew said in desperation. “Here….” He reached into the velvet bag, looked around reflexively, and then blinked.
The late afternoon sun was coming in from behind the houses, casting a shadow that stretched nearly to the street.
Except for the glow that surrounded Bartholomew as he stood in his driveway. As Alex approached, still looking at the sky, Bartholomew’s aura surrounded Alex too. As they got closer, Alex’s shoulders actually squared, and some of the bone-white tension eased up around his eyes and mouth.
“Lookit you,” he said faintly. “You got your own umbrella.”
“Here.” Bartholomew had twisted the different colors of cord together into a neat hank. “Choose your color.”
“Green,” Alex said, his lips doing that twist thing he did when he was laughing at himself. He rode a bike, right? And he had green eyes?
“It works.” Bartholomew separated the green cord from the others and put them back into the bag. “Here.” He looped the cord over Alex’s head, saying, “My friend of the good heart, with the logical mind, may you stay safe from chaos, from pain, from bad decisions. Know you are loved. So may it be.”
“So may it be,” Alex echoed dutifully, that self-conscious twist of his mouth disappearing. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let it out, and when he opened his eyes, his usual humor and pragmatism showed again. “Okay, so are we under attack?”
“Nope,” Lachlan said, jogging out from the car. “Look, I’m glowing too. We did good, Tolly. You and me make good magic.”
Alex raised normally skeptical eyebrows. “You. Made magic.”
Lachlan gave him a steady look. “Tolly’s my magic,” he said, and Alex nodded.
“Okay, that I believe. I always thought Dante was our strongest next to Jordan, but maybe not. And since the sky isn’t dropping asshole animals on our heads anymore, here, Barty, take the keys and go get the thread. I’ll go get the tape. Are we going to put pentagrams around the cul-de-sac?”
Alex really was very clever—he just had trouble being creative. They’d had long conversations, talking about books and music and magic, and Alex had loved all of it.
He’d hated that he couldn’t follow, was all.
“I was thinking a big one at the intersection, with thread running to our threshold. Maybe when Jordan and the others get here, we raise a cone of power and bless the neighborhood?” Bartholomew really needed to consult Jordan about all of this. Jordan read the books at night—he slept in the witch’s cottage filled with familiars who would let nobody but Jordan touch them.
“Yeah. We can work on the rest of this tomorrow.”
Bartholomew grimaced. “I was sort of thinking of baking up some more stock so I could go back tomorrow.”
Alex tilted his head skeptically. “Are you sure you want to go back to the con tomorrow? Can’t you bail?”
Bartholomew shrugged, determined even though he wasn’t sure why. “I… think I need