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within me, a ghostly memory. Nausea rolled in my belly. I’d almost stolen the one’s power without even meaning to.
    I glanced away, unable to look at Del. She and Nix had never had this problem. They’d resisted for years without effort. What made me so different?  
    “Uh, yeah. But it was nothing. I’ve got it under control.”
    “You sure?”  
    I cringed at the concern in Del’s voice. “Yeah. If I didn’t, I’d tell you.”  
    And I would. Eventually. I just didn’t want to talk about it now, so I reached for her hand and squeezed it. Nix’s gaze met mine over Del’s shoulder. The concern in Del’s voice was mirrored in Nix’s eyes.
    Aidan returned. My shoulders relaxed. I didn’t like having that kind of concerned attention. Praise and compliments, sure, but concern? Nope. I’d rather hang back along the sides while that was going around, thanks very much.
    “Well?” I asked.
    Aidan stopped before my chair, looming overhead. He was over six feet, a real bruiser of a guy. But that was one of the things I liked about him.  
    “The Order of the Magica investigators will be there in an hour to inspect the portal,” he said.
    “All right. Now we need a way back in.”
    “That won’t be a problem. Origin Enterprises did an update on the Museum security a few years ago. I should be able to get us in.”
    “Good. Much easier than anything I’d have come up with.” I grinned. “Is that why the security guards were so freaked out by you? And why Madam Astrix knew you?”
    “No. Madam Astrix knows me because I’m a donor to their annual fundraiser.”
    As I’d thought. Richer than twelve dragons.
    “And the security guards acted like cowards because I’m a scary bastard,” he said.  
    Fair enough. I was no longer afraid of him, but I had been when I’d first met him. And whenever he turned into a griffin, his Shifter shape of choice, though I was getting over that.
    “Great. I’m going to go check on Connor, see how he’s coming with that invisibility potion.”
    I rose and wound my way through the small tables toward the counter at the back. Bridget was still mixing drinks—whiskey cocktails instead of coffee now that it was evening—and the breakfast treats tray in the glass case had been replaced with an assortment of savory pasties since they were more of a dinner item.
    “I’m headed back to see Connor,” I said to Bridget.
    “All right.” Her gaze stayed on the small bottle of bitters she was dashing into a glass of amber liquid.
    I skirted around the counter and headed back through the swinging wooden door. The galley kitchen was small and cramped, but ruthlessly organized. I hurried to the door on the left and knocked. It was not smart to barge in on Connor when he was playing with his potions. Explosions, and all that.
    Connor pulled the door open, wiping a hand on his band t-shirt. Quartz , this time. I’d never heard of them, but I assumed they were good, if Connor liked them. His dark hair flopped over his forehead.  
    “Hey. Almost got it done.” He stepped back to let me in.
    Though the coffee shop specialized in enchanted coffees, Connor liked to keep the potions themselves separate from the food. His workshop was slightly bigger than the kitchen, but far more cramped and cluttered. Rainbow vials of liquid crowded every shelf. Mortars and pestles and test tubes were scattered across the counter. It was a mad scientist’s lair, all right.
    Kitchen Connor was a dictator, potion Conner was an artist. He walked over to a small, smoking cauldron and gave it a stir.
    “Won’t taste good, but should do the job,” he said.
    “How long will it last?”
    “An hour. Maybe a bit more.”
    I could work with that.
    “But you’ll have to keep control of your magical signature,” he said. “It can’t mask that.”
    My heart dropped. “Keep control? You mean, you’ve noticed it?”
    “Only since you told me you’re a FireSoul.” He turned to meet me, his brown