One day I “helped” Daddy change the tire on the lawn mower and he taught me about linchpins. I think I fell in love with all things with wheels that day, sprung of a golden summer hour with the man who can always make me feel like both princess and warrior.

A linchpin is a fastener that keeps the wheel from falling off the axle. It’s inserted crosswise directly through the axle’s end, where it stays securely in place until manually removed. The end of the pin usually has a loop of metal so it’s easy to pull out.

In a broader sense, a linchpin is a key component that holds the elements of a complicated structure together. Some theorize if you can isolate the linchpin of a social, economic, or political assemblage, you can destroy it in one fell swoop with a minute nudge or adjustment. Conversely, if you identify linchpins and protect them until you’ve achieved your desired result, you can shape the outcome. It doesn’t surprise me Barrons lives and breathes The Art of War. “I can kill them when they’re not?” I want to be perfectly clear about this.

“The instant they’re not, I will.”

We’ll fight about who does the honors later. I’ll just have to make sure there are no humans in the vicinity when it happens.

“You could let Ryodan host this summit. At Chester’s.”

“And have your ghoulish army in attendance?”

“You could ward the club against them.”

He snorts. “Now I’m your personal warder. You have no idea how complicated such magic is.”

Actually, I have a fairly good idea. He hasn’t died in a while and his chest is covered, both arms are fully sleeved, and half his back is tattooed with black and crimson protection spells. The magic in which he dabbles is dangerous. Speaking of magic, “Barrons, it’s been three weeks since Dani disappeared. Isn’t there some kind of spell you can do?”

“Ward this. Spell that. How did you navigate life before you met me?”

I shrug. “It’s kind of like realizing you married Bewitched. Except not in the married sense,” I add hastily. “But you know what I mean. Why break your back vacuuming when a saucy twitch of the nose can clean the whole house?”

“My nose has never twitched, saucily or otherwise. And that was an utterly absurd premise. The only price for using magic was compounded human stupidity. Humans consistently engender chaos without violating alchemical principles.”

“Oh, my God, you watched—”

“I did not.”

“Yes, you—”

“Did not.”

“You just said—”

“Inescapable pop culture.”

“Oh, you so watched it.” I imagine this big, barbaric man stretched out on a tangle of silk sheets, naked, one arm behind his head, watching the comic antics of Darrin and Samantha Stephens on a large flat-screen TV. The idea tickles me, turns me on somehow. It’s so anachronistic, it makes me want to hunt down old DVDs, stretch out beside him, and lose myself in a simple show from a simpler time when the only price for magic was compounded human stupidity. Laugh together, do something mindless and fun. Then of course do something else mind-blowing. I’d love a few long rainy carefree days in bed with this man.

“Repetition of an erroneous assertion fails to alter reality. And you know we can’t track her in Faery. That’s why she went.”

Great, now I’m hearing the theme song from Bewitched in my head. It’s always a hard one to get out. “When she gets back, I want somebody tattooing her. The instant she gets back.”

“Bloody hell, after all the grief you gave me. Have you forgotten our tattoos haven’t worked right since the walls fell? Give it time. We’ll find her. At the moment the most pressing matter on our agenda is this meeting.”

The meeting. I shift restlessly and my amusement vanishes just like that. “Are you sure we can’t move it somewhere else?”

“It happens here. You will attend.”

He asks little of me and gives much in return. I can’t imagine the world without him and don’t want to. Once, I almost destroyed it because I believed him gone forever.

“Aye aye, master,” I mutter crossly.

He smiles faintly. “You’re learning, Ms. Lane, you’re learning.”

Katarina McLaughlin, Rowena’s replacement as headmistress of the abbey, is the first to arrive.

The slim brunette’s patient gray gaze searches mine the instant I open the door, reminding me why I’ve been avoiding her. Her talent is emotional telepathy and I have no idea how deep she can go. In nightmares, she peels me like a pearly onion and reveals the rotted inner bulb.