“So no one from your family was involved in this. They knew nothing about it. You’re the witch-hunter and you killed your cousin because she tried to stop you.”

“I had nothing to do with Amy’s death. She had her own problems.”

A lie. I was sure of it. Had Amy found out Roni was mixed up in something? Had Amy threatened to tell their family. Did Roni kill her? Or did these people, when Roni told them? It didn’t matter. Not now.

“So your aunt was right—they stopped hunting witches and you didn’t. You went rogue.”

A smug smile. “I went more rogue than they could ever imagine. I’m not a witch-hunter anymore. I’m a witch.”

I laughed. She didn’t like that.

“If they’re promising to make you a witch, you slept through part of your witch-hunter training,” I said. “We’re born, not made.”

“That’s what you think. They’re making me one by injecting me with witches’ blood.”

I sighed. “If it was that easy, don’t you think every freaking supernatural would do it? Add spellcasting to his repertoire? Hell, why not just take the rest, too, while you’re at it—some half-demon blood, sorcerer, shaman, necromancer . . . The only supernatural power that can be transferred is a werewolf’s, through saliva. Your chances of surviving that are one in a hundred. And, no offense, Roni, but you aren’t strong enough to be in that one percent.”

“You think I’m not becoming a witch? Then explain this.”

She took a piece of chalk from her pocket, drew a symbol on the floor, and laid a leathery scrap on it. She lit the scrap on fire, recited an incantation, and a tiny fireball, no bigger than a firefly, exploded above it.

When I laughed, her face darkened. “I’m just starting. It will take lots of practice and months of blood therapy, but someday I’ll be a real witch.”

“Um, no. You won’t. Do you remember when you came to my hospital room, and I knocked you flat on your ass? No chalk symbols. No bits of dried flesh. No matches. Hell, I wasn’t even awake. What you’ve done here is a parlor trick. Friends of mine found a cult of humans doing magic like that a few years ago.”

“They were the first,” Roni said. “Our methods have much improved since then.”

While Jeremy and Karl had eliminated the cult that Jaime uncovered, a few had escaped. Was that Roni’s group? Were they the ones who’d found a way to free Leah? Sure, there could be two entirely separate groups hell-bent on getting me, but that sounded a little too close to a teenage girl’s popularity fantasy for my tastes. Especially considering Roni had been in Columbus before Leah lured me there. They wanted me because I was both witch and sorcerer, with a little demon tossed in, meaning if they really believed blood would—

Oh, shit.

“Remember how I said poison knocked out my spells? I lied. I have a virus. A really nasty virus. One of those, um, hemorrhagic fevers.”

Her nose scrunched up. “Huh?”

“Never mind. Just . . . Okay, I get it, you want supernatural powers. Who doesn’t? I know I’d love to have mine—I mean, I love mine. When I’m not sick, that is, which is really just temporary. But if you want power, real power, I know people—”

The door squeaked open again. “Veronica?” a woman’s voice said. “I thought you were just checking to see if she’s awake.”

“She is.”

“So I see,” the woman said dryly. “You may leave now, Veronica. I believe it’s time for your blood therapy.”

The woman came to stand in front of me. A man followed. He was in his midthirties, with sleek dark brown hair, lazy dark eyes, and a close-trimmed beard. He wore a brilliant blue button-down shirt, slacks, and loafers, all designer brands. His teeth shone. His hair shone. Even his fingernails shone. The woman beside him did not shine. At least two decades older, she was plump, with faded blue eyes and coarse gray hair cut to her shoulders. She wore a brown dress that did neither her figure nor her coloring any favors.

The peacock and the wren, I thought.

“Giles,” the man said, making an odd little bow in my direction.

When his gaze swept over me, that lazy look vanished. The peacock vanished, too, and I saw a hawk instead, surveying potential prey. The change of expression lasted only a moment before he fixed on a mild smile, stepped away, and motioned for the woman to take over.

“Althea,” the woman said.

She paused, eyeing me as if waiting for a reaction. Was I supposed to know her? I didn’t, and when that was clear, she nodded, seeming satisfied rather than disappointed.

“Are you hungry, Savannah?” she asked. “Thirsty?”

When I said nothing, she pressed, her broad face gathering in concern until Giles sighed and said, “Prisoner politics, my dear. She won’t ask for anything, be it water or answers.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I’ll get something on the plane. I think I’ve missed my flight, but there was another one this evening. Mind if I rebook? I was really kind of in a hurry to get someplace.”

“Miami,” Giles said. “Yes, we know. I’m afraid tonight won’t be possible. Would tomorrow suffice?”

“Well, okay. I was hoping for tonight, but tomorrow will do. Can you get me an upgrade? I prefer business class, but the bosses always send me coach.”

“He isn’t joking, Savannah,” Althea said. “You really can be on a flight tomorrow.”

“Just give you what you want, right? Spill my guts. Tell you everything you need to know. Or is it my blood you want to spill? If so, we’ll make a deal. You get some from your usual source, and we’ll tell Roni it’s mine. Not like you’re actually giving her witches’ blood. The point is just to make her think she’s getting it, which might actually make her a better spellcaster. The mind is a powerful thing.”

Giles laughed. “Don’t worry, Savannah, we have no interest in your blood. We don’t want your answers either. You’ve already given enough of those.”

I stiffened before I could stop myself.

“Oh, don’t worry, it was quite unwitting. You’ve told us what we needed to know, though. Now all we want is . . .” He smiled. “Your friendship.”

With that, he turned and walked out, Althea following.