So someone else was aware she was gone, was investigating it. And someone from PCC, to boot.

“Did they leave you a card, by chance? Or some way to get in touch with them?”

“Well, no. They just said they’d be in touch if they found anything out. So I thought that’s why you were here today.” She swallowed back obvious fear.

“Mrs. Salas, perhaps you’d like to have your husband come join you?”

She went pale as a ghost, moistened her lips. “My Paul has been dead for two years. I say he’s in the garden, because you don’t know who’ll come to the door, what they’ll want. It gives some protection. He’s not here.”

Oh, damn, I thought. She was alone.

Liam reached out, took her hand. “Mrs. Salas, I’m sorry to inform you that your daughter—well, she’s gotten ill from the magic. It’s hurt her.”

“Ill?” She looked back and forth between us. “What does that mean, ill?”

“It means the magic—the infection—overwhelmed her. She’s become a wraith.”

Knowledge bloomed horribly in her eyes. “No,” she said. “No. She was rigorous.” She lowered her voice. “She did the ‘clearing out.’ Kept her magic stable or whatever. She knew how to do that, because she’d worked with the department, you see. She’d never have let herself become—one of them.”

Maybe she didn’t have a choice, I thought. I could see Liam was thinking about that, too, but he didn’t voice it.

“You can’t be right,” she said.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Salas, but we are. We found her last night.” Liam’s shoulders tensed as he prepared himself. And then he put it out there. “We took her to Devil’s Isle.”

Fear changed to alarm, to anger. “You took her to prison?” She stood up. “How dare you! My baby should not be in prison.”

“Ma’am, she’ll hurt people. That’s what wraiths do. I’m sorry, but I imagine you know that’s true. There’s a clinic at Devil’s Isle where she’ll be kept safe, where she won’t be allowed to hurt herself or anyone else. That’s the best that can be done for her right now.”

She looked at Liam, lifted her chin. “I want to see my daughter.”

Liam’s expression softened. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I want to see my daughter. She’s my daughter. She’ll be frightened. I don’t care what you say about what she is now. She’s still my daughter.” She sobbed, covered her mouth with a hand. “She’s still my daughter.”

•   •   •

Mrs. Salas declined Liam’s help in getting her into Devil’s Isle, said she’d do it on her own.

We climbed into the truck and sat there, both of us staring blankly out the windows, jolted by the scene in Mrs. Salas’s house. By the sadness—and the reality check.

Control was an illusion. Even if I managed to control my magic, even if I kept things balanced, something could still go wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

Talking to Mrs. Salas had put distance between us again. I could feel Liam pulling away, probably as he imagined my potential future. I didn’t have any family left to crush. But there were still people I could hurt. People he’d have to inform.

I shook the melancholy away. That didn’t matter. We had to focus on what we could control. “You did what you had to do,” I said quietly.

“I don’t know if that makes it any better.”

“It’s not much consolation, but at least she’ll know where Marla is. She’ll have answers.”