Jenny sleep spell

I dug Bob out of my backpack. The skull took one look at the sleeping, naked Georgia and leered. “First you get demolition-level sex with the cop chick, and now a threesome, all in the same day!” he cried. “Harry, you have to write Penthouse about this!”
“Not now, Bob. I need you to identify the spell that’s been laid on Georgia.”
The skull made a disgusted sound but focused on the girl. “Oh,” he said after a second. “Wow. That’s a good one. Definitely sidhe work.”
“I figure it’s Jenny Greenteeth. Give me details.”
“Jenny got game. It’s a sleep spell,” he said. “A seriously good one, too. Malicious as hell.”
“How do I lift it?”
“You can’t,” Bob said.
“Fine. How do I break it?”
“You don’t understand. It’s been tied into the victim. It’s being fueled by the victim’s life force. If you shatter the spell . . .”
I nodded, getting it. “I’ll do the same to her. Is it impossible to get rid of it?”
“No, not at all. I’m saying that you couldn’t lift it. Whoever threw it could do that, of course. But there’s another key.”
I grew wroth and scowled. “What key, Bob?”
“Uh,” he said, somehow giving the impression that he’d shrugged. “A kiss ought to do it. You know. True love, Prince Charming, that kind of thing.”
“That won’t be hard,” I said, relaxing a little. “We’ll definitely get to the wedding before he goes off alone with Jenny and gets drowned.”
“Oh, good,” Bob said. “Of course, the girl still kicks off, but you can’t save all the people, all the time.”
“What?” I demanded. “Why does Georgia die?”
“Oh, if the Werewolf kid goes through the ceremony with Jenny and plights his troth and so on, it’s going to contaminate him. I mean, if he’s married to another, it can’t really be pure love. Jenny’s claim on him would prevent the kiss from lifting the spell.”
“Which means Georgia won’t wake up,” I said, chewing on my lip. “At what point in the wedding does it happen, exactly?”
“You mean, when will it be too late?” Bob asked.
“Yeah, I mean, when they say, ‘I do,’ when they swap rings, or what?”
“Rings and vows,” Bob said, mild scorn in his voice. “Way overrated.”
Murphy glanced up at me in the rearview mirror and said, “It’s the kiss, Harry. It’s the kiss.”


Side Jobs, Something Borrowed, Page 51-52