I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me, or just thinking about the things she really wanted to say to Jeremiah.

Either way, this was going to be bad. I tried to pull in a little more firespell of my own, just to reduce the amount she had to work with. It wasn’t going to do much good, I knew, but what else could I do?

“When all this falls apart,” she said, “it will be your fault.”

She wound up her arm to throw the firespell at me, and I closed my eyes, bracing for impact . . . when I heard the roar of a wolf.

My eyes shot open. Fayden was on the ground, a giant silver wolf atop her, little bits of glass in his fur.

It was Jason. He’d come through the window . . . to save me.

He fought with Fayden, but she couldn’t get enough traction to throw the firespell. They rolled around and tumbled a bit, and as they did, the power in the room filled up again.

I closed my eyes for a second, blocking out the burst of joy from seeing Jason again, and concentrated on gathering up power.

She slapped at his hide, and he whined a little.

“Jason,” I yelled out, when I was as primed as I was going to be. “On three. One, two, three!”

Jason leapt away, and Fayden sat halfway up to stare at me.

“Your turn,” I said, and I let the firespell go, sending the entire burst of it directly toward her. Her image wavered as the air warped, and then she fell back and hit the ground with a thud.

Just in time, the other Adepts rushed in through the door, but I had eyes only for the wolf at the other end of the balcony, chartreuse eyes shining. He looked at me, but he didn’t come any closer.

“Thank you,” I said, but he disappeared out the door.

My heart broke again. Did he hate me so much that he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with me, even after saving me from Fayden?

It was heartbreaking that he’d left, but I tried not to think about it. I did not want to cry in front of a room of Adepts and minions.

Scout jogged over to check me out. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine. The spell worked. The spool exploded. There are still minions down there, I think.” To confirm, I looked over the rail. They were definitely still down there, waking up groggily after being hit full-on with the impact of the exploding magic.

“Is she wearing spandex?” Paul asked, tilting his head as he stared down at Fayden.

“Yep. She most definitely is.” I looked at Daniel. “She wanted to start some kind of magical socialism, where the amount of everyone’s magic was controlled. But mostly I think she was just angry at Jeremiah.”

“What a weirdo,” Paul said.

“And an unconscious weirdo,” Scout said, putting an arm around my shoulders. “And that’s what really counts.”

One victory at a time, I thought.

* * *

We had our magic back. Of course, so did all the Reapers in the city. But it was hardly worth the trouble of going back to fight if we didn’t at least stop to celebrate. Scout helped me clean up, and she, Michael, and I headed back to the Field Museum. Daniel promised to get the pumping station cleaned up—and to explain to the cops exactly how Fayden had managed to blow the windows out.

The lights were down and the music was up when we walked back into the party. The place looked phenomenal. Fancy and spooky at the same time, and impressive either way.

Michael didn’t waste any time pulling Scout onto the dance floor. She looked back at me, worry in her eyes, but I waved her off. Just because I wasn’t going to have a fantastic time didn’t mean they shouldn’t. Besides—my ex-boyfriend had just saved my life. That was something, right?

Nicu, having gotten us safely to the tunnels, didn’t squander his favor. He and Veronica were dancing together in the middle of the room. And although the room was filled with people who looked very happy and very smitten—at least for tonight—there was no mistaking the emotion in their eyes. They looked kind of perfect together, and he even looked kind of normal. Just like a guy at a dance, except for the fact that with one good look in his eyes you could see he wasn’t a normal teenager. There was too much knowledge there. He looked like he had an old soul, if that made sense.

I, on the other hand, had a young soul. And a thirsty one. I decided I could use some punch.

I walked around the dance floor to the table with drinks and snacks. There were a few girls nearby, mostly the ones who hadn’t come with dates.

I poured a cup of the punch—but sniffed before drinking it. There was no telling what kind of illegal stuff a bunch of rich sixteen-year-olds would sneak into the Sneak punch bowl. But it smelled like fruit punch and ginger ale. Classic punch ingredients. Not great, but not awful.

“Is there any more of that?”

I glanced back.

Jason Shepherd, the disappearing werewolf, stood behind me in a black tuxedo—black bow tie and everything.

He looked so handsome—and I was so surprised to see him there—I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. I also nearly dropped my cup.

“I’ll maybe just have a drink of yours,” he said, gently taking the cup from my hands and finishing it off in a single gulp.

Words returned. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, putting the cup down on the table. “I’m sorry I ran off. I had to get dressed.”

“You look . . . very nice,” I carefully said.

“And you look gorgeous, Lily Parker. But we have unfinished business.” While the rest of the dateless girls looked on, Jason took my hand and led me out the door and into the hallway. He pulled me into a quiet alcove, then looked down at me, his blue eyes intent.