I gathered up the magic again, pulling at the twisting filaments that crowded my body even now. I imagined the box was the red dot in the middle of the target and shoved. Cold spilled over me again as the magic twisted, fought back, tried to slip through my fingers like wriggling fish. But I ignored what it wanted and settled my mind on where I wanted it to be.

Slowly, carefully, I moved it toward the box, the box that could be as big as a room. And then I released it.

Nix reached forward and slapped the lid closed.

Dizziness hit me again. I closed my eyes and counted backward from ten, just as I’d done on car trips as a kid when I was a few miles away from barfing all over the backseat.

“Are you all right?” Liam’s voice sounded far away.

“She’ll be fine,” Nix said. “She has pulled magic away from herself. It has left her disoriented. The feeling will pass.”

It might pass, but I wasn’t thrilled it existed at all—or that I’d need to do this for the rest of my life. “Will I get used to it?”

“Possibly.”

Not the ringing endorsement I was hoping for.

I opened my eyes again, blinked. “Did I at least do it right?”

“If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t feel like that. But if you want to know, look for yourself.”

I growled, wished I knew a few Cajun curses, and closed my eyes again. This time, instead of imagining the magic in me was the source of light, I ignored everything except for the box’s eight corners and its small, shiny interior.

The light was faint, like a far-off star, but if I relaxed just enough, I could see it pulsing with magic and energy. Satisfaction filled me. I’d done it.

And I was going to sleep like a baby.

CHAPTER TEN

Thirty minutes, three attempts, and one more successful round of casting later, the bell clanged downstairs, followed by the sound of shuffling footsteps.

“Claire? You up there?”

Damn. I glanced at a grandfather clock that stood in the corner. It was seven thirty, and Gunnar was prompt as usual. I was a little dizzy and a lot ravenous.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” I called out, then looked at Liam and Nix, waited for their images to come into focus. “They’re here for dinner. You might want to put the—what did you call it? your human shadow?—back on.”

Nix sighed, but waved a finger, and her disguise whirled and reformed around her body like bark replacing itself again.

“Who is it?” Liam asked.

“Tadji Dupre, Gunnar Landreau, Will Burke. Gunnar’s the Commandant’s adviser. Tadji’s a grad student. Will works for Materiel.”

Liam whistled. “That’s a lot of Containment in one place.”

“Yeah. So be careful,” I said, glancing between them. “I don’t want either of you getting into trouble.”

“More trouble, you mean,” he said, and we headed toward the stairs. “A Sensitive, a dryad, and a bounty hunter walk into a bar,” he murmured.

Gunnar, still in his dark fatigues, stood with Burke and Tadji in the store’s front room. Burke had a large enamel pot in hand, and he’d worn fatigues, too. Tadji had opted for snug jeans, a T-shirt, and boots today. And based on the body language, she didn’t look especially thrilled about Burke’s presence. Not a love match, I guessed. We’d have to talk.

“Dinnertime!” Gunnar said. “And you have . . .” He trailed off as Liam and Nix appeared behind me. “Company.”

“Yeah,” I said brightly. “Company. This is Liam and his friend Nix. They’re, um . . .” Damn. I hadn’t actually though that part through.