“Poor Sidonie has been under so much pressure since Janet’s abrupt departure and the unexpected vacancy on the Congregation,” Satu said, her voice silky. “My name was at the top of the list of replacements, and I was happy to be of service.”

  I should have looked for Satu’s bottle when I was in Venice. But it had never occurred to me that she might still pose a threat, not even after Gwyneth’s warning.

  Matthew placed his hand on the small of my back, close to where Satu had branded me with his family seal as a reminder that I was tainted by my association with vampires. The scars were a lasting symbol of Satu’s cold-bloodedness. My courage, which had been wavering, revived.

  “I’ve already notified the Congregation that your appearance here is unacceptable, after your violence toward Diana,” Matthew said. “They’ll have to send someone else to examine her and the children.”

  Satu’s laugh was as brilliant and brittle as Griselda Gowdie’s memory bottle.

  “This is an internal matter, Matthew. The other members of the Congregation have no jurisdiction over the affairs of witches.” Satu’s smug expression left little doubt that Tinima and Sidonie were aware of what Satu had done to me in the past, and had sent her here anyway.

  “It’s okay,” I said, putting my hand on his arm. “She can’t do anything to me or the children.”

  “That’s right, Diana. Ravenswood protects its own.” Gwyneth fixed a basilisk stare on her visitor. “You’re on Proctor land, Satu. There are forces here that are beyond even the reach of higher magic.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Satu replied with a twisted smile.

  A howling wind of protest swirled past my shoulders and nearly flattened Satu.

  “Be more careful,” Gwyneth said. “That’s the last warning you’ll get.”

  “No harm will befall Diana or the children. Today.” Satu paused long enough to give her words a malicious shimmer. “Today is all about ticking the boxes so that there are no questions later. Shall we get started?”

  “Follow me,” Gwyneth said, directing Satu toward the Old Place.

  I took Matthew’s hand and pulled him in the direction of the barn, away from Satu’s veiled threats, and toward our children.

  “How did your oracle not foresee this?” Matthew snarled in fury.

  “We’ll deal with the intelligence failures later,” I said, taking his face in my hands. “Right now, I want the children with us and their examination in the rearview mirror.”

  Matthew drew a shuddering breath, gathering his composure. His eyes were stormy but not yet fully black. Matthew was in control of his blood rage—for now. He nodded.

  When we entered the barn, Sarah was ready to fight—not with magic but with Granny Dorcas’s favorite fire poker. She dropped it with a clatter.

  “It’s time for your test,” Sarah told the twins brightly. “Who wants to hold my hand? I hate tests. I was terrible at them.”

  “Me, too,” Pip moaned.

  “I like tests,” Becca said, slipping her hand into mine. Something warm and sharp bit into my flesh.

  “You’re wearing your ring,” I said, looking down at her fingers.

  “Tamsy told me I have to wear it from now on,” Becca explained. “She told me it belonged to a great witch and that I would be a great witch one day, too.”

  Thank you, Tamsin Proctor, I said silently. For the first time since my ancestor’s spirit took possession of my daughter’s toy, I was grateful. Tituba’s ring retained some of her power, and Emily’s ancestor would be with Becca when she faced Satu.

  In the end, we all held hands as we crossed the green expanse of grass and flower beds between Orchard Farm and the Old Place.

  When we reached Gwyneth’s house, Sarah let go of Pip’s hand. “There you go, squirt. Your mom will take you and your sister inside. There isn’t room for your dad and me in Gwyneth’s poky front parlor. We’ll wait for you out here.”

  Matthew was surprised. “I’m going—”

  “No, you’re not,” Sarah said firmly. “Everybody needs to focus, right? We don’t want to distract anybody.”

  I thanked the goddess for Sarah’s unusual restraint. Rather than adding to the tension, she found a way to remind Matthew he had an important role to play in today’s proceedings.

  Reluctantly, Matthew nodded.

  “Who wants to go first?” I asked the twins.

  “ME!” Pip and Becca shot their hands in the air and shouted in unison.

  “Ladies first,” Pip said with a little bow to his sister.

  “No, Pip.” Becca took her brother’s hand. “We’ll do it together.”

  I took Pip’s other hand and cast one final look at Matthew.

  Matthew traced a cross in the air between us.

  “Angele Dei, qui custos es mei,” he murmured. “Me tibi commissum pietate superna; Hodie illumina, custodi, rege, et guberna.”

  Pip and Becca both recognized this ancient prayer to one’s guardian angel immediately, as did I. Matthew had taught it to the twins as soon as they could speak, and both children repeated it whenever they felt uncertain or distressed.

  “Amen,” Pip said in response.

  “Catch you on the flip side, Daddy,” Becca said, adding my father’s favorite farewell to the litany.

  * * *

  —

  Satu and Gwyneth sat in silence in the keeping room. The rest of the witches present had plenty to say, however.

  That despicable hag has no business being here! Granny Dorcas said, shaking a frying pan. Pallid creature. And her skills are shockingly crude.

  Better we smoke her out, Granny Dorcas, than mount a frontal attack with kitchen equipment. Grandpa Tally was propped against the fireplace, his eyes glued to Satu with deadly intent.

  This witch from the north is not a great lover of books, Granny Alice said with a sniff. No wonder her knots lack structure. There’s barely enough gramarye to hold them together. She needs to acquaint herself with more disciplined prose.

  Naomi was here, too.

  Darkness always recognizes its own kind, she said, her hair sparking. I felt her presence at once.

  “Who is she?” Becca whispered, hanging on to my hand as we entered the keeping room.

  “I am Satu Järvinen. I’ve come to do some spells with you.” Satu smiled in a vain attempt to look less terrifying.

  “Not you.” Becca frowned. “That lady there, with the sparkly bottle where her heart should be.”

  “That’s your aunt Naomi,” I said. “Grandpa Stephen’s twin sister.”

  “Grandpa was a twin? Coo-el,” Pip said, his anxiety surrounding tests temporarily alleviated. It soon returned. “What kind of spells?”

  “All kinds,” Satu said.

  Hopefully these would not include timewalking, flying, or any other use of magic that might cause Pip to disappear and not be seen or heard from again.

  “My spells don’t always work the way they’re supposed to,” Pip confessed, glum about his future prospects.

  “How marvelous for you. Let’s see if we can figure out why.” Satu pointed to a vase holding the last of the summer roses. The blooms were past their prime, and mottled with brown spots. “See if you can make one of those wilted flowers come back to life, Philip.”

  Pip screwed up his face in concentration. A quiet glow appeared around him, as it usually did when he was focused on casting a spell. He murmured a few words.

  The flowers disappeared.

  “Where did they go?” Becca wondered, searching for the vase.

  Pip shrugged, his cheeks pink with embarassment.

  “I think they’re in the meadow.” I pointed through the window to where single roses were sprouting out of the grass like dandelions. Pip had not only restored the flowers to life, but to the ground as well.

  “Clever boy.” Satu made a note in her leather-bound journal. “You’ve got a lot of earth magic in you, Philip. It’s so warm today. Can you make a gentle breeze to cool us down?”

  “Gentle,” I emphasized, thinking of the state of the clapboards.

  More confident now, Pip muttered something unintelligible and waved his hand in the air.

  A whoosh of wind blew down the keeping room chimney, along with a soot-covered Apollo. He stood on unsteady lion’s paws and spat out a mouthful of ashes.

  The sight of a blackened griffin didn’t faze Satu.

  “Looks like your chimney needs a good cleaning, Miss Proctor,” Satu said. “Air, too, I see. How about we try—”

  “Not fire,” I said firmly. “The house is a national treasure.”

  Satu frowned at my interruption. “Yes, fire. Can you light the candle on the mantel, Philip?”

  “Sure!” Pip said, tripping over his familiar to reach the fireplace. He puffed on the nearest candle wick.

  The ornamental birch logs in the grate burst into roaring flame.

  “Oops,” Pip said, giving Gwyneth a lopsided grin. “Sorry, Aunt Gwyneth.”

  “You kept the fire in the fireplace this time,” my aunt said, beaming at him. “Well done, Pip.”

  “And fire.” Satu made another note.

  “Like Mommy,” Pip replied. “She can shoot a fire arrow.”

  “Yes, I know,” Satu murmured. “Can you empty the water from the glass on the table without touching it?”

  I closed my eyes and prayed that Pip would not cause a tsunami that would require coastal evacuations.

  Pip stood in front of the table and concentrated on the glass of water. It lifted from the table’s surface, wobbled a bit in the air, then tipped its contents over the African violet sitting on a doily. The glass landed on the table with a thud.

  Becca clapped. “You did it, Pip!”

  I opened my arms to give my son a hug.

  “You were magnificent,” I told him, smoothing the piece of blond hair that had fallen into his eyes.

  “There’s just one more test, Philip,” Satu said. “Come stand in front of me.”

  Pip did so, although he kept a prudent distance between himself and this strange witch.

  “I want you to close your eyes,” Satu said. “What’s the first thing you see?”

  “A gray cat.” Pip had been asking for a cat all summer, and intended to call it Spike after Chris’s favorite character in Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

  “Can you invite the cat to join you, Pip?” Satu asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

  “Is this really necessary, Satu?” I pointed to Apollo. “You’ve seen his familiar.”

  “Don’t interfere again, or I’ll have to ask you to leave,” Satu warned. She would do it, too.

  Pip concentrated, screwing his eyes shut. He cracked one open. “Is Spike here?”

  “Not yet,” Satu said. “Ask him nicely.”

  Pip pressed his lips together and lowered his eyelids.

  Nothing.

  Pip stomped his foot impatiently, and the floorboards shook at the impact. “Come here this minute, Spike!”

  “Spike must not be available,” Satu said. “Thank you for trying, Philip.”

  Pip’s face fell in disappointment. He opened his eyes and turned to me. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Not at all,” I said.

  “You are a very talented witch, Philip.” Satu made a few more notes in her book. My fingers itched to snatch it from her, so that I could see what they said.

  He smiled and turned to his sister. “Your turn, Becca.”

  “That’s it?” I was blank with astonishment. Where was the pain? The threats? The sense of violation? Satu’s examination was nothing like what I remembered from my encounter with Peter Knox, or my mother’s memories, either. Mom had been angry at Dad for allowing Peter to proceed with his unorthodox methods, but I hadn’t understood how different my experience had been.

  “What were you expecting?” Satu asked, genuinely curious.

  I smothered my fractured memories of Knox’s visit to Cambridge, not wanting Satu or the children to see my distress.

  Becca shot me a nervous look, which suggested she had, as usual, picked up on my emotional turmoil.

  “You’ll be fine,” I said, plastering a wide smile on my face.

  “It’s not hard, Becca,” Pip said, taking his sister by the hand. “Courage.”

  With her brother’s support, Becca walked the few steps that stretched between her and Satu. Granny Dorcas walked beside her, chewing on her pipe.

  “I’d like you to—” Satu began.

  “Make a wilted flower bloom,” Becca said, ready to make magic.

  “No,” Satu said sharply. “You must listen carefully to my instructions, Rebecca. I want you to fill that empty glass on the table.”

  Rebecca’s chin lifted. “Water, milk, or lemonade?”

  Gwyneth choked down a laugh.

  Take that, you pudding-headed hoyden! Granny Dorcas brandished her frying pan.

  “Witch’s choice,” Satu replied, her tone vinegar.

  Becca pointed her ringed finger at the glass, and it filled slowly with lemonade from top to bottom, rather than from bottom to top. It was neatly done, tightly controlled, and very naughty.

  An expression of astonishment slipped over Satu’s features, and quickly left.

  “Very good, Rebecca.” Satu pointed to the candles. “Can you light them?”

  Becca walked to the fireplace and blew gently on one wick. It burst into golden flame. She looked over her shoulder at Satu, cunning as a cat, before twirling around and setting every wick in the room alight.

  “Settle down, poppet,” I warned. Rebecca was too young to have enemies—especially one like Satu.

  “How about the rose in this picture?” Satu pointed to the pink blossom held in the fingers of my ancestor. “Can you make it wilt and shrivel up? It’s just like making it bloom, but backward.”

  I opened my mouth to protest. Making things die was not a talent I wanted my children to have.

  “Okay.” Becca pointed her index finger and walked toward the painting.

  Nothing.

  “That’s all right,” Satu said briskly, ready to move on. “You’ve got plenty of fire and water in you, Rebecca.”

  But Becca was a competitive child. Her brother was outscoring her in magic. She scowled with displeasure.

  “Please draw a breeze in from the garden,” Satu said, setting Becca a new task.

  Becca tried, waving her arms around like a windmill, but the air in the room didn’t stir. We had always known that Becca’s magic was not as diverse as Pip’s, even before Apollo showed up and let us know our son was going to be a weaver.

  Becca stomped off and sank into a chair by the door, her lips jutting into a pout.

  “You still have one more test,” Satu said, calling her back.

  Becca returned with ill-disguised reluctance.

  “Her teen years are going to be a nightmare,” Gwyneth murmured.

  “This test is stupid,” Becca grumbled.

  “Close your eyes, Becca.” Satu’s voice was hypnotic. “Keep them closed. Tell me what you see.”

  “A raven,” Becca said promptly, “but not the one who died on the pavement.”

  Gwyneth and I exchanged worried glances.

  “Can you invite the raven to join you here?” Satu pressed.

  “His name is Fiachra,” Becca said.

  My grandfather straightened.

  “I’d like to meet Fiachra,” Satu said.

  “Me, too.” Gwyneth stood on trembling legs.

  A black bird with silver eyes and a silver ruff swooped past the window, beating its wings at the glass. It dropped to the windowsill. The window was cracked open, but not wide enough to let the raven in.

  “Can I open the window?” Becca asked Gwyneth.

  “Of course,” Gwyneth said, her voice trembling.

  Becca flung open the window so that Fiachra could hop through it. Outside, Matthew and Sarah were peering at the unusual bird.

  “You sure you have room for a raven in New Haven, as well as a deerhound and a griffin?” Sarah asked my husband.

  Becca waved. “Hi, Aunt Sarah! Look, Daddy. This is Fiachra. He’s the bird who came to New Haven and talked to me after his friend died.”

  There had been no silver feathers on the raven I’d seen in New Haven. It was as though the bird had been given a collar of office, a mark of the goddess like the cross between Cailleach’s eyes.

  “Fiachra?” Gwyneth whispered. “Is that you?”

  Fiachra turned his brilliant silver eyes toward my aunt. He ducked his head and cawed with recognition. Fiachra hopped a few steps and then took flight, landing on Gwyneth’s outstretched hand.

  “It’s good to see you, old friend.” Gwyneth’s eyes filled with tears. “How wonderful that you came when Becca called.”

  Fiachra clucked and warbled, bobbing his head in Grandpa Tally’s direction.

  “He did?” Gwyneth smiled at her brother.

  Fiachra spread his wings and returned to Rebecca and Pip, watched closely by a curious Apollo.

  “Apollo doesn’t mind if you fly, too,” Becca assured Fiachra. “Mommy flies sometimes. You can still be friends.”

  Fiachra uttered a strange chirp. He paced up and down the windowsill, undecided. Finally, the raven flew into the room and landed on top of Apollo’s head. He pecked at a bit of soot that was trapped in the feathers between the griffin’s eyes.

  See, Granny Dorcas. The Proctor legacy is safe with Rebecca, Grandpa Tally said, a twinkle in his eye.

  Hmph, Granny Dorcas replied. That imp is bent on mischief. Best not to cosset her, or Darkness might follow.

  Darkness wouldn’t stand a chance against Becca.

  Satu returned her pen to the elastic loop on her notebook. “I think that’s enough for my report. Once I’ve filed it, you will receive a copy.”

  “Aren’t you going to test Diana, too?” Gwyneth asked.