Free Invincible by Dawn Metcalf

call from Gordon, ’cuz I kind of left him hanging and he was not happy, but sisters before misters.” She licked her whipped cream. “I figured this was an emergency, but I didn’t know what to bring besides coffee and this—” She took the ox bone letter opener out of her purse. Joy had borrowed Monica’s gift from her aunt Meredith in order to sever the Amanya spell at its source: Graus Claude.
    Joy gulped. “Why did you bring that?”
    Monica frowned. “It’s the only thing that I know works in this Twix world of yours.”
    Joy laughed. “It’s the Twixt, like ‘betwixt’ this world and another one. Twix is a candy bar.”
    Monica smiled. “Mmm. Just like my caramel mochaccino.”
    Joy shut the cover on the alarm. “Did you get in okay? Did you see anyone?”
    â€œNormal people are sleeping. Although there are some crazy joggers around at this hour...”
    â€œI meant did you See anyone?” She raised her eyebrows meaningfully.
    â€œOh,” Monica said with sudden understanding. “No. I mean, not since I saw you and your boy leave the baseball field yesterday. I even looked on my way home,” she confessed. “In the park, in the garden and in the cemetery on East. I admit I still think you could be pulling my leg.” She wagged the letter opener at Joy. “I also saw that funky arrow thing on my face— not an attractive feature.” Joy felt a curl of guilt twist her gut. Now that Monica had the Sight, she could also see the signatura embedded in the scar that marked her as being under Sol Leander’s auspice. It was Joy’s fault that Monica had been wounded by the Red Knight and thereby claimed by the Tide’s representative. Sol Leander was the guardian of victims of unprovoked attacks. “Last I heard, you were headed to a big to-do in an invisible Ferrari.” Monica took a long look at Joy. “Please tell me you didn’t wear that to some fairy-tale ball.”
    Joy plucked at her T-shirt and shorts, her toes waggling in mismatched socks. “No,” she said. “I changed when I got home. You would have approved of my ball gown, trust me.”
    â€œPics or it didn’t happen.”
    Joy shrugged. “Sorry. No flash photography.” The Folk didn’t have reflections, so they didn’t show up in mirrors or cameras. Joy waved around the empty kitchen. “Dad’s at Shelley’s, Stef’s gone and my date’s not here. Consider this the after-party.”
    â€œSwanky,” Monica said. “So how did it go?”
    â€œThe word pitchforks comes to mind.”
    â€œThat good, huh?” Monica winced. “Ouch.”
    â€œYeah. It’s a long story.” Joy swallowed more warm, sweet caffeine. The throbbing in her temples could have been the beat of her heart if she’d had one anymore. Her smile faltered. One conniption fit at a time , she reminded herself. First, survive impending doom. Then, stop changing into something inhuman. For dessert, get the King and Queen to come back from Heaven and save both the worlds. Oh yeah. Piece of cake.
    Monica pointed toward Joy’s room with the ox bone dagger. “Well, I freed up the morning to hang out with my bestie and left a message for Gordon to ping me later so we could rearrange plans, so in the meanwhile we can OH JESUS !” Monica rankled like a cat hit with a boot, spying Graus Claude squatting in front of Stef’s old TV. “DOWN!” she screamed. “GET DOWN!” She grabbed a pen off Stef’s nightstand and made a shaky cross with the letter opener.
    â€œWhoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Joy jumped in front of Monica, hoping to shield her friend from Graus Claude’s response. The Bailiwick didn’t take kindly to disrespect, and surprise could be mistaken for an insult. Joy cringed, expecting a bellow or a stern lecture as she waved her arms in front of