“Yeah, but that was before they asked if I wanted to compete again.” I twisted further, trying to meet her eyes. “This is a huge opportunity for me, and it’s going to look weird if I don’t show up when everyone else does. Which is a bigger risk of exposure? Going on TV one more time, or triggering a bunch of ‘whatever happened to . . .’ junkies to come looking for me?”

“Yes, but, dear . . . what if you win?” Mom sounded genuinely concerned. I glanced back to her. “Artie managed to get into their computers last time, and he said you only lost by about a hundred votes. People love you when you dance for them. What if they decide that this time, they should give you the prize you deserve?”

“Then I spend another year in New York, in an apartment someone else is paying for, which would mean I wouldn’t have to take back my job at the bar,” I said. “I could follow up with the people I helped while I was there before, and this time I could do it without trying to juggle work, dancing, and the cryptid community. This could be really good for me, Mom, and for the cryptids of Manhattan.”

“And you’d be back in the spotlight,” said Antimony. “Can’t forget about that.” She sounded remarkably bitter. I didn’t know how to respond.

I didn’t have to. Mom did it for me. “Antimony, don’t attack your sister. Verity has a point: she hasn’t properly retired her Valerie Pryor identity. Is there any way you could turn them down without them making a big deal about it?”

“Not really,” I said. “Adrian is the producer and the head judge, and I was one of his favorites. If I don’t come back, he’s going to say something about it on the air.”

“Which makes people wonder why you’d refuse something like this,” said Mom. “I think doing the show might be the best way to handle the situation. If you win, you can go back to New York for a year, and get the hidebehinds to help you arrange a murder.”

“Mom,” I protested, without any real heat. She was right, on both counts: I hadn’t properly retired Valerie. I’d just abandoned her, like a shirt that didn’t fit right. And if I wasn’t going to be Valerie, I needed to get rid of Valerie. I needed to kill her off.

“I don’t believe this,” muttered Antimony, before asking more loudly, “Why can’t she have her alter ego murdered now, instead of after the show? There’s no need for her to risk exposure like this. Or did you forget what happened in New York? She broke cover! Sarah could have died!”

“That was an unforeseeable situation,” said Dad. “Your sister did nothing wrong. She took the steps she had available to her, and she did her best to keep from exposing the family to danger. As for Sarah . . . your cousin is an adult. She made her own choices, and we have to respect them.”

“She only made those choices because Verity got caught,” countered Antimony.

“I didn’t get caught on the dance floor,” I said. “I got caught because I was working. I was doing my job. I wasn’t Valerie when the Covenant figured out who I was. There’s never been any connection between my dance career and my identity.”

Dominic, who once successfully tracked me to a tango competition, said nothing. I was grateful for that. I would have hated to make myself a widow.

“Your sister’s appearance on Dance or Die didn’t cause any rumors about the Price family being alive in North America, but it did make her acceptance into the Manhattan cryptid community easier,” said Dad. “We’re still rebuilding our family’s reputation after all the time we spent in the Covenant. I think this is a good thing.”

Antimony shook her head. “Unbelievable. Just unbelievable.” She turned and stormed toward the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Mom called.

“To get my backpack,” she called back. “I’m going to Artie’s.” Then she was gone, pounding up the stairs with such force that it was impossible to keep talking to her unless we wanted to start screaming.

I turned fully back to the table, pushed my waffle out of the way, and allowed myself to slump forward until my forehead hit the wood. “I remember being so excited to have a baby sister,” I complained, voice only slightly muffled.

“She feels left out sometimes,” said Mom. “It’s like when you were all little, and you and Alex would play games she couldn’t keep up with.”

“Mom.” I sat up. “She dug pit traps for us when we played hide and seek. Pit traps. Sometimes she put spikes in them, because she thought that made them look better. We could have been killed.”