The shapeshifter is mine.

“Pryce recognized you as the Lady of the Cerddorion,” Mab continued. “He believed that the Lady would thwart his plans. And so she did.”

“Not in battle,” I said thoughtfully, “but merely by showing up. Ceridwen manifested, and it was end-of-story for Pryce.”

“Precisely. But it wasn’t Ceridwen alone, child. It was you. The Destroyer killed Pryce, at least in part, to prevent Pryce from killing you.”

Which meant Difethwr had plans for me. I wasn’t exactly eager to find out what they were.

Did Difethwr’s plans include the Old Ones? Tina was still missing. Daniel had confirmed that Tina wasn’t one of the Morfran-possessed zombies at Fenway Park. Neither had she been found in the raid on the abandoned factory. I’d gone back there myself. The cops were long gone, and I could wander the place at will. I explored every square inch. I found the basement cells Bonita had described. I even found the cell Tina had occupied. My heart sank when my flashlight revealed the words scrawled in bubble gum–pink lipstick on the concrete wall: Vicky help me!!! The words blurred, and I had to blink fast to clear my eyes.

According to Daniel, Tina was one of several zombies still missing. He believed the Old Ones still held them, and he continued working with Juliet to try to find out where. (Judging from Juliet’s increasingly sexy outfits and increasingly bad moods when she came in each morning, Daniel had successfully resisted her charms.) In the meantime, Tina’s plea for help haunted my dreams.

I would find her. I would. And I’d punish the Old Ones for her suffering.

That brought forth a flare from the spark that now burned constantly in the back of my mind. Ceridwen loved that kind of talk. After centuries on the sidelines, she was ready for action.

It was a struggle to keep her in her place. For Ceridwen, having a physical body again was better than a kid’s first trip to Disney World. Whatever I was doing—having a cup of coffee, taking a shower, walking through the streets of Deadtown—Ceridwen pushed herself forward and tried to take over. She loved TV almost as much as Juliet did. The last straw, though, was when Kane returned from his retreat. As he pulled me into his arms and pressed his lips against mine, the double perspective returned and suddenly it wasn’t just me he was kissing.

I’d pushed him away then. I wasn’t willing to share him with anyone, not even a goddess who lives inside my head.

It was Kane who helped me find the solution. Not a great one, I’ll admit, but it works. At least for now. “Ceridwen came forth when the bloodstone exploded, right? And now fragments of the bloodstone are embedded in your skin. What happens if you cover them up?”

Excellent question. Before Ceridwen could stop me, I ran into the kitchen and shoved my hand into one of Juliet’s hot-pink rubber gloves. Ah. Blessed relief. The double perspective disappeared, and when the bedroom door closed, it was just Kane and me.

Since that night I’d tried other gloves—leather gloves, knitted gloves, up-to-the-elbow opera gloves—but only that flamingo-pink rubber one did the trick. I wore it now. Hell, I wore it all the time. Ceridwen might be powerful. She might be the Lady of the Cerddorion, the mother of my race. But this was my body, and I liked being in control of it. Even if I won Fashion Don’t of the Year.

Kane placed his hand on my ungloved one. I loved the warmth of it, the feeling of his skin on mine. No bloodstone glitter, no demon mark. Not even a stupid pink glove. Of all the claims on me, this one—from the man I loved and who loved me in return—was the one I accepted. This was the one I wanted.

“AUNT VICKY!” SIX-YEAR-OLD ZACK RAN TO ME AS WE GOT out of the car. He stopped and stared. “How come you’re wearing that glove?”

“So I can help your mom with the dishes later,” I said, ruffling his hair. I fully expected to be called a silly billy, but Zack was already tugging at Kane, wanting to show him the backyard trampoline. I smiled. It made me happy that Gwen’s kids liked Kane.

Maria sidled up to Mab, looking shy. She hid both hands behind her back.

“Mom said I could give you these.” Her right hand clutched a bouquet of flowers from Gwen’s garden.

“Why, thank you, Maria. How lovely. Shall we put them in some water?” Mab glanced at Gwen, eyebrows raised. After a moment’s hesitation, Gwen nodded. Maria led Mab into the house.

That left Gwen and me alone in the driveway. Gwen stared at my pink-gloved hand, then decided not to ask. Instead, she gave me a peck on the cheek.

“Where’s Mom?” I asked.

“On the patio, helping Nick get the steaks started.”

“Steaks?” I’d expected Gwen’s husband to whip up hamburgers and hot dogs.

“Dad’s favorite, so Mom insisted.” Gwen rolled her eyes. So Dad had graduated from mere cheeseburgers. Mom was spoiling him. “He’s in the garage,” Gwen continued, “keeping out of sight. But other than Mrs. Baumann, who’s still worried about her Chihuahua, I think the neighbors have gotten used to having him around.” She laughed. “He’s been great with Justin. They’re inseparable. And you should hear Justin talking now. That child has picked up more words from a talking falcon . . .” I couldn’t tell how much sadness permeated her smile. Maybe only a hint—for the dreams of a normal, middle-class life that had been swept away by the tsunami of her family.

Gwen took my arm, and together we walked toward the patio. “So what’s up with this glove?” she asked. “Not a look I’d have chosen for you—”

“Mom!” Maria staggered out of the house, looking pale and clutching her stomach. Mab was right behind her. “I don’t feel good.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” Gwen held out her arms, and Maria threw herself into them. Gwen scowled. “She’s awfully hot.”

“I think it’s time,” Mab said.

Time? Oh, no.

“It can’t be. Not yet.” Gwen frowned and felt Maria’s sweaty forehead. “There’s a bug going around . . .”

Maria gasped and doubled over. The edges of her form blurred and wavered. She coughed, but the sound came out as a succession of animal noises—meow, chirp, moo, hiss.

Mab was right. Maria was making her first shift. And months earlier than anyone had anticipated. We hadn’t prepared her. She wasn’t ready.

Gwen clutched her daughter to her. Her panicked face turned blindly back and forth between Mab and me.

“Maria.” Mab laid a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder. “You told me you wanted to be a seagull, remember? Tell me what you like about seagulls.”

“No!” Maria jerked away. Her voice was nearing hysteria. “I don’t want to shift. I can’t! I want my mom!” A sob caught her voice. “Mommy, help me!”

Gwen stood stiff as a post. I’d never seen my sister look so helpless. She hadn’t shifted in over a dozen years.

My turn. “Maria, it’s okay. You won’t do this alone. Listen to what Mab said. Think about a seagull, soaring out over the ocean.”

Energy built. Downy feathers sprang from the back of Maria’s neck.

“No! I don’t want to be a seagull.”

“I’ll get Anne.” Mab rushed back toward the patio.

“What about a cat, then?” I said brightly, like this was supposed to be fun. “Remember how you said they’re so graceful, like dancers?”

Maria didn’t answer, but a tail—an orange tiger stripe—began to sprout from her the base of her spine. At the same time, her arms began to stretch into wing shapes.

This was bad. If Maria didn’t focus on one form, the shift could tear her apart. It could kill her.

“Maria.” I kept my voice quiet and calm. “It’s okay. You can be a seagull or a cat or whatever you want. But you need to choose.”

“No, I don’t want to. I changed my mind!” she wailed. “Mommy! Make it stop, please!”

The cat’s tail lengthened. Whiskers sprang forth, and her ears changed shape and migrated higher on her head. At the same time, feathers sprouted all over her body. Her arms became more winglike, while her legs shriveled and shortened, like a bird’s.

The energy continued to build. When Mom and Mab appeared, Kane close behind, it was almost at the flashpoint. Maria was resisting too strongly. She wasn’t going to survive.

Maria screamed.

The energy blasted out.

“Stop.” Suddenly, I saw the scene from twenty feet above. My hands grabbed the blast of energy and held it. Fragments of bloodstone sparkled and sizzled. The pink rubber glove lay on the ground. “I will not see one of my children destroyed in this way.” The words issued from my mouth. Although I hadn’t spoken them, I agreed with every word.

Maria looked at me with a face that was part-cat, part-bird, part-child. Her wide eyes moved upward. Her head tilted back until she stared high above my head. She looked directly into Ceridwen’s eyes. “Can you help me?” she whispered.

“I can,” Ceridwen answered in my voice. “But you must choose.”

“I already did. But I . . . I didn’t tell anyone. I want to be a falcon, like Grandpa.”

“And so you shall. Trust me, child.”

Maria swallowed hard, but then she nodded. She closed her eyes.

I could feel Ceridwen constrain the energy, like a dam holding back a vast reservoir of water. My body shook with her effort. Then, slowly, particle by particle, she fed it back to the trembling child. Maria’s body resumed its normal shape. At a signal from me, Gwen stepped back. Then Ceridwen sent more energy into Maria in a strong yet gentle pulse. One moment there was an eleven-year-old girl. The next, a white falcon stretched her wings.

What a beautiful, perfect shift.

“Well,” said Dad, landing beside his granddaughter. “What have we here? Want to go for a soar, kiddo?”

Maria’s beak opened and emitted the piercing cry of a falcon. Together, the two magnificent birds launched themselves skyward.