Lon exhaled heavily. “If you really do have the ability—”

“To wield every knack known to demonkind?” I finished.

He nodded his head toward this intangible, terrifying thing. “If you do, it would explain a lot. And it would also mean that Dare really did have someone who was investigating you.”

“Well, we know he already uncovered my real identity.”

“Identity is one thing, but if Dare hired someone to find out about the Moonchild spell, that’s a whole other matter. Uncovering dark occult secrets isn’t your everyday PI work.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

And maybe this investigator opened up my options.

Priya insisted that the only way to stop my mother was by reversing the Moonchild spell, but heading straight to my order in Florida might not be the right move now that the caliph was gone. And really, besides magical protection, what could my order give me? I’d already scoured its libraries for information about the Moonchild ritual when I was still living there in my teens. And I had to believe that if the caliph knew something about the Moonchild spell, he would have told me.

My parents’ house in Florida had long been sold, several times, and eventually demolished; new condo buildings stood there now. Nothing I could find there to help me. I could try to track down people who knew my parents, but they didn’t have friends. So that led me back to the main lodge.

After I told all this to Lon, I asked, “Am I thinking about this all wrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong,” he said quietly. “Given everything we now know, I agree that a better tactic would be to track down this investigator.”

I gave him a tight smile. “Guess I should’ve asked Dare for a name before I killed him.”

No amount of magick or demonic ability could change the past, so there was little use dwelling on what happened with Dare. My mother was the pressing problem. But before Lon and I could piece together a plan of action, a distant door slammed.

“Sorry, but I can’t hear you!” a voice called out before a sound akin to stampeding buffalos clambered up the stairs. A few moments later, two things lunged through the doorway: a chocolate Lab and a fourteen-year-old boy with a spring-green halo and a pouf of dark corkscrew curls. The sight of him squeezed my heart.

Jupe skidded to a stop at the foot of the bed. Green eyes blinked at me as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, the straps snagging on monster-movie patches sewn to the sleeves of his Army surplus jacket. “Foxglove!” Jupe protested.

“Hey, girl,” I said, dodging the Lab’s tongue while Lon grabbed her purple collar to keep her from jumping on the bed.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Aren’t you the kid who mows the lawn?”

A whimper buzzed from the back of his throat.

“Kidding,” I said. “Do I get a hug or what?”

His shoulders dropped, and a toothy grin spread. “I knew you’d be okay,” he said as he pounced on the bed and his skinny arms curled around me.

“For the love of God, don’t crush her,” Lon warned.

I didn’t mind. Unlike his father, Jupe was never one to have problems expressing feelings. His hair smelled pleasantly of chamomile and coconut oil, and when he finally released me, I pushed his frizzy curls off his forehead and studied him. “Missed your face,” I murmured.

“Missed you so much.” He looked as if he might be on the verge of getting too emotional. Just for a second. Then he reeled himself back in and smiled. “I told everyone a thousand times you’d be fine—right, Dad?”

“ ‘Everyone’ and ‘a thousand’ aren’t exaggerations,” Lon confirmed.

“Man, your halo looks so much better today.”

Did it? I wondered just how bad it had looked before and if Jupe had seen me at my worst. But even if he had, I guess he wasn’t scarred for life, because he seemed to be his normal high-energy, bright-eyed, Motormouth self. He plopped down next to me on top of the covers and lounged against the headboard.

“Let me just say, I never want to step inside a hospital again.”

“That makes two of us.”

“God, I’m glad you’re home. I have so much to tell you.”

No doubt.

“Do you remember everything now?” Jupe asked, looking at his father for some sort of confirmation.

“Mostly,” I answered.

“Do you remember . . . ?” He trailed off and gave me a probing look, long lashes fluttering nervously as he searched my face. “Remember our fight?”

My mind jumped back to the last time I remembered seeing him. The afternoon I’d been trapped by Dare. I’d confessed my real identity to Kar Yee and Jupe. Kar Yee had left angry. Jupe had stayed, interrogating me, until he found out I was planning to go to Florida alone. He didn’t take it well. And he let something slip that he shouldn’t have.

Lon had bought me an engagement ring.

“Oh, crap,” Jupe muttered, reading my face.

And judging from the way Lon shifted uncomfortably, Jupe must have told his father that he’d spilled the beans about the ring. My cheeks heated. Lon and I never had a chance to talk about it. I remembered that he’d given me plane tickets for Christmas, had wanted to take me to the French Alps. Pretty romantic for someone like Lon. Add on a ring, and you had a big step for two people who hadn’t been able to say “I love you” for the first several months of their relationship.