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your chest now, ’cause I’d hate for you to be lying in bed tonight, thinking of all the zingers you’d failed to get off.”
    Leah dropped into her seat.
    “Oh, come on,” I said. “Go ahead. I won’t even retaliate. Cheap one-liners were never my style.”
    “And what is your style, Paige?” Leah waved at my dress. “Laura Ashley, I presume. How very … witchlike.”
    “Actually,” Sandford said, “from what I hear, most Coven witches prefer polyester stretch pants. Blue, to match their hair rinse.”
    “Want to take a few minutes, think up something more clever? I can wait.”
    “Oh, let’s get on with it,” Leah said. “I have things to do, places to be, lives to ruin.” She bared her teeth in a grin and rocked back in her chair.
    I rolled my eyes, sat, and turned to Sandford. “She’s right. Let’s get this over with. It’s simple. You’re not getting Savannah. By arranging this absurd ‘custody’ meeting all you’ve done is put me on the alert. If you thought you could wave phony custody papers in my face and scare me into handing her over, you’ve got the wrong witch.”
    “Oh, but they aren’t phony,” Sandford said.
    “Uh-huh. On what grounds could you possibly challenge me? My age? Leah’s not much older. Because I’m not related to Savannah? Well, neither is she. I have a prosperous business, a house with no mortgage, a solid record of community service and, most importantly, the blessing of Savannah’s sole surviving relative.”
    Sandford’s lips twitched in a smile. “Are you sure?”
    “Yes, I’m sure. Is that your plan? Persuade Margaret Levine to relinquish custody?”
    “No, I mean: are you sure Miss Levine is Savannah’s sole surviving relative? Just because her mother is dead doesn’t make the child an orphan.”
    It took me a second to realize what he meant. “Her father? Savannah doesn’t even know who her father is. Oh, let me guess. You somehow managed to track him down, and persuaded him to cast his vote behind Leah. How much did that cost?” I shook my head. “Never mind. Take that route. It’ll still be my suitability versus Leah’s, a battle I’m willing to fight anytime.”
    “Who said I’m the one who wants custody?” Leah asked from her end of the table. “Did you say that, Gabe?”
    “Of course not. Clearly Paige is leaping to conclusions. It says right here—” He raised his copy of the letter he’d sent me and feigned a deep frown—about as believable as smacking himself in the forehead. “I don’t believe this. That new secretary of mine. I told her to include your name as a witness. What does she do? She puts you down as the plaintiff. Unbelievable.”
    Both shook their heads, then left me dangling in silence.
    “Who is the plaintiff?” I asked.
    “Savannah’s father, of course,” Sandford said. “Kristof Nast.”
    When I didn’t react, Leah leaned toward Sandford and said in a stage whisper, “I don’t think she knows who that is.”
    Sandford’s eyes widened. “Could it be? The leader of the all-powerful American Coven doesn’t know Kristof Nast?”
    Beneath the table, I dug my fingers into my thighs, willing my tongue to stay still.
    “He’s heir to the Nast Cabal,” Sandford continued. “You do know what a Cabal is, don’t you?”
    “I’ve heard of them.”
    “Heard of them?” Sandford laughed. “Cabals are billion-dollar corporations with international interests. The crowning achievement of sorcerers and she’s ‘heard of them.’ ”
    “This Nast, he’s a sorcerer?”
    “Naturally.”
    “Then he can’t be Savannah’s father, can he?”
    Sandford nodded. “Admittedly it is difficult to comprehend how any sorcerer, particularly one of Mr. Nast’s stature, could demean himself by sleeping with a witch. However, we must remember that Eve was a very attractive young woman, and brutally ambitious, so I can understand how she might have seduced Mr. Nast, in spite of the repugnance of such a