“You think Mara was greedy with her powers?”

  “Tell me, is she popular in school? Has the most popular friends? Gets good grades without even trying? Cute boyfriend?”

  I nodded, staring off into space, thinking about how all of these things were true. Did Mara use magic to get popular? To get everything she wanted? Sure, Mara was beautiful and social in her own right, but maybe she gave herself a little boost. Maybe she wanted some guarantees, and used her power to keep herself ahead of the game. I had always been envious of her, always wondered why we were so different. I was beginning to understand why now. She might have freaked out when I used my powers years ago, but maybe she’d wanted popularity and a “perfect life” bad enough to use her powers herself.

  “And the Reaper’s Rite?” I asked. “What exactly happens?”

  Lilura sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I only know what I’ve read. A Reaper wears down its prey, little by little until the Vila’s powers aren’t strong enough to fight off the Reaper’s hold, then he finally takes his victim to the In-Between—the realm between our world and the after life—and eats her soul. Sucks all the life and power out of her. Leaves her an empty corpse. Their bodies are found in our world afterward, in the exact spot they’re snatched from. The Reaper has no use for a hollow shell.”

  I stared at her for a few minutes, unable to get my voice past the dryness that covered my throat. I rubbed my thumbs along the rim of my cup until I was finally able to speak again. “So a Reaper wanted to claim Mara … and hit her with a bus?”

  She placed her hands on the table and leaned forward. “I highly doubt Mara was supposed to come out of that coma.”

  I thought about it for a moment. The Reaper wanted to claim Mara. The doctor had said Mara’s heart had stopped. She’d died. But I’d brought her back. I’d stopped the Reaper from collecting her soul. If she was suffering in the coma, I stopped the Reaper from snacking on her pain. If he was draining her of her power while she was in that hospital bed, I’d stopped him from snatching her away to consume her soul. But Mara said he was still coming after her. A chill crept up my spine. I’d pissed off a Reaper.

  “So I interrupted the Reaper’s Rite,” I whispered. My eyes were wide when I looked up at Lilura. “What happens now?”

  “He comes to get her.”

  I waited for her to say more. That couldn’t be it. There had to be a way out of this mess. “Lilura, I can’t believe you’d tell me all this unless there was something … some way to stop him.”

  “Are you sure you want to? I mean, Mara isn’t exactly the same anymore, is she? The Reaper’s already got a grip on her soul. Controlling her actions when she’s too weak to resist.”

  I swallowed hard. It sent chills racing through my body to learn that a Reaper could control Mara. Make her do things at his will. Like hurt herself. Or hurt others. My mind swam in hopelessness. “I can’t just let her die. Again.”

  She sighed and stood up, walking over to the bookshelves. “It’s very complicated. There’s a lot of research to be done. No one has ever disrupted the Reaper’s Rite before. At least, no one who’s lived to tell about it. We might get lucky and find something in one of these books that can help us.”

  I skipped in front of her. “So let’s start looking. What are we waiting for?”

  “Foolish girl.” She shook her head and pushed me aside, pulling out a thick book with a withered brown cover. “What do you think I’ve been doing? I pore over these accounts again and again, searching for answers. It’s all I do. I never sleep. Haven’t slept in forty years.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Do I strike you as the joking type?”

  No, I didn’t think she was joking.

  She brought the book back to the table and began to page through it. “These are journals and accounts dating back hundreds of years. Vila. Family or friends of Vila. All noting their experience with Reapers. Something in here might help us figure out what to do.”

  I gaped at the wall of books, then returned to my chair. “Why do I suddenly feel like we’re looking for a polar bear in a snow storm?”

  Lilura closed the book and scrutinized me. “What color is your natural hair?”

  I blinked at the abrupt change in topic. “Um, red.”

  “Come here.” She motioned for me to follow her. We ended up in front of an antique-looking silver mirror by the stairs. She pulled me in front of her. When she put her hands on the sides of my head, I froze, afraid of what might happen. I watched her reflection as her eyes shut, and her bony fingers pressed into my scalp. A vibration pulsed from her hands onto my head, and I sucked in a breath. Her lips moved, but she didn’t make a sound. I wondered if she was silently speaking in the language that had come out of my mouth the night I did the spell.

  The thought fled as, before my eyes, the dye began to bleed from my hair. It was as if the black peeled off and slid off the ends. When all traces of black vanished, leaving my hair a sleek rosewood color, Lilura opened her eyes and dropped her hands. I reached up and felt my hair, like touching it would somehow tell me the color was real.

  “Oh, wow,” I whispered.

  “That, for example, was not for personal gain. Well, except for the fact I much prefer your natural color, but that doesn’t really count.”

  I spun around and gaped at her. “You … you’re a Vila too?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you know you’re one of the slowest people I’ve ever met?” She walked back to the table to pour herself more tea.

  I stared after her for a moment. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. As the information finally began to sink in, someone clambered down the stairs and shook me from my thoughts. I turned just as Chase hopped off the second to last step. I knew he lived there, of course. That didn’t make it any less weird to see him outside of school, not glaring at me.

  Chase stopped in front of me and looked me up and down. “Nice hair.”

  His face was blank, unreadable. I pulled my fingers through my hair, watching him walk into the kitchen, his trench coat swinging behind him. Why did he always wear that God-forsaken coat? Even indoors. Maybe it was permanently attached to his body.

  I joined Lilura at the table. Chase came out of the kitchen with a bottled water and sat down with us. I eyed his drink enviously, wishing I could swap it for my tea.

  “So, if you’re a Vila, what does that make him?” I nodded at Chase.

  “There are no male Vila, if that’s what you’re asking.” Lilura sipped her tea noisily. “The sons of Vila carry it in their blood, and their daughters may be born Vila. But the men have no powers.”

  “So my father …”

  “Is a normal human.”

  I scrunched my nose. “Doesn’t that make me half-Vila?”

  “No. Vila blood in a female means you’re a Vila. It’s the stronger blood. It dominates.”

  I glanced at Chase. “So you’re just a guy.”

  “Hardly,” Chase said. “I’m an Alchemist.”

  And just like that, I was lost again. “A … chemist?”

  “No, an alchemist. I’ve been studying potions and spells for years. I specialize in concocting mixtures or tonics to help charms and enchantments work. I’ve been figuring out how to track supernatural creatures, looking for ways to defeat them by learning the history—the real history—of the world. I’m actually working on a tincture that might have poisonous effects on a Reaper.”

  I locked eyes with him. “You didn’t just move here to live with your grandmother, did you? You came to help somehow.”

  His answer was a small smirk.

  “As much as I’m enjoying your lightning-fast epiphanies,” Lilura said, getting up from the table, “I think I left a book upstairs that could help. Feel free to catch up with the rest of us while I’m gone, Zadie. You’re an amateur with your powers, so we have to start training you. If we’re going to try to save your sister, you need to be able to control your magic completely, and I don’t have the energy to baby you.”

  Sable trotted after Lilura, stopping halfway up the stairs to meow at me before bounding the rest of the way up. I had the strangest feeling she was making fun of me, too.

  Chase kicked my foot lightly under the table. “Don’t let her get to you.”

  I looked up at him, surprised. “I thought you were mad at me.”

  “Annoyed, maybe. Frustrated, probably. Displeased with your unrelenting stubbornness, definitely. But not mad. Plus you came to your senses and decided to hear my grandmother out after all.”

  I glanced at the stairs to be sure Lilura wasn’t within earshot. “Not exactly an easy thing to do, you know?”

  He laughed and nodded. “She can be cranky, but she’s also smart and she knows a lot about all this stuff.” He scratched an eyebrow. “Did she tell you that she hasn’t slept in forty years?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She sleeps, believe me. You ever wake up at night hearing thunder in the distance? Well, that’s not thunder.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sable led me to the Blacks’ again Sunday morning. I rang the doorbell, and Lilura called for me to come in. I could hear her in the kitchen, so I headed toward the dining room. Three candles and a glass of water sat on the table. No tea in sight. I smiled and reached for the glass.

  “That’s not for you to drink.” Lilura hobbled out of the kitchen and dropped her considerable weight into the chair across from me.

  “Oh.” Disappointment colored my voice. “Sorry.”

  She made a sound of annoyance and waved her hand in dismissal. “Let’s just get started. Vila must reach into themselves and pull the magic from their blood.”

  I made a face at that image, which she ignored.

  “I want you to focus on this glass of water.”

  “Okay?”

  “And I want you to change the color of the water.”

  I frowned. “To what?”

  “Any color you want. It’s easier if you pick it yourself, and I figured we best start easy with you.”

  I pursed my lips, refusing to let her comment get to me, and shifted in my chair. I placed my hands on the table, next to the glass but not touching it, and stared. The clock in the other room ticked loudly. I could hear Sable rubbing her paws against the couch in the living room. Minutes passed. I stared at the water. Nothing happened.

  “Concentrate.” Lilura’s voice was gruff when she said the word.

  “I am.”

  “Try harder.”

  Someone came down the stairs, but I could feel Lilura watching me, so I kept my eyes on the glass. A breeze blew in through the open window, and I caught Chase’s scent: freshly cut grass and cinnamon. He came up to the table, and I wrinkled my nose, willing myself not to pay attention to the scent so I wouldn’t be distracted. Why did I even care he was there?

  “Maybe you should start with the candles.” I didn’t realize Chase was talking to Lilura until she answered him.

  “Like she could do any better with them. Look at that water. It hasn’t changed a bit.”

  I took my hands off the table and sighed, defeated. “Sorry.”

  “Can’t you muster up any change?” Lilura asked. “A little cloudiness or something?”

  “It’s hard.” I knew I sounded whiny, but frustration does that.

  “Is it?” Lilura sighed and pointed to the glass. The water turned bright pink. I gasped, and it changed back to clear again. How had she done that? And so easily? I gaped at her, unable to form words. Chase dropped a journal on the table and replaced the glass with the candles. He lit them with a silver lighter and leaned back in his chair.

  “Fine, start with the candles.” Lilura rolled her eyes and stood up.

  “What should I do?” I asked.

  Lilura pointed a crooked finger at the candles. “Extinguish them without blowing them out.”

  I forced back a moan. I could do this. I knew I could. I placed my hands on the table and stared at the flames. Lost myself to their mesmerizing flickers. Chase was right; the flames were much easier to concentrate on than that boring glass of water. I thought about what I needed to happen and pressed my fingers into the table. Maybe if I commanded them in my head, it would help. Flame out, I thought. Spark no more, tiny bastard candles. The tiny flames flickered sharply, but they didn’t go out.

  “You must want it to happen.” Lilura paced behind me, which was annoying. Chase, thankfully, got up from the table and headed for the bookshelf.

  Want it to happen. Want it to happen. I narrowed my eyes at the flames. I did want the flames to go out. They were stupid, tiny flames. Stubborn flames, but still. Why was this so difficult? I mean, I’d summoned hoards of frogs and brought my sister back from the dead, and I hadn’t had to concentrate nearly so hard.

  And just like that, I knew what I was doing wrong. I stopped concentrating and sat back in my chair. Lilura gave me an exasperated look, and even Chase glanced up from the book in his hand, disappointed. I batted my lashes at him twice, and the flame from the center candle winked out.

  Lilura looked at the candles.

  “One?”

  My moment of confidence wavered, uncertainty squirming in my gut. My eyes went from Lilura, to the unlit candle, and back. “Yeah?”

  “Not good enough.”

  “What do you mean? I did it. I used my magic.”

  She snorted. “You were supposed to put all three out. That’s only one third of what I asked you to do. I’d call that a sixty-six percent failure.”

  “But …”

  Lilura waved a hand at me. “Never mind. Let’s move on to something else.” She patted my head. “At least you’re trying.”

  My jaw clenched. I probably would have said something regrettable, except Lilura kept talking.

  “You’re more disciplined in your craft than your mother was at your age.”

  I’d been wondering how much Lilura knew about Mom ever since she’d mentioned her. With everything else there was to talk about, I hadn’t had the chance to ask. She’d said she was careless with her power, but how did she know?

  “Did you know my mother?” I asked.

  With a sigh, she sank into the chair opposite me. “Not personally, but I’d seen her and knew right away what she was.”

  “How?”

  “I’d gone to the supermarket, and she was there. I’d seen her around town before, but I never really paid attention to her until that box of crackers got knocked off the shelf. She and I were the only ones in the aisle, but she forgot to check if anyone was watching before she used her power. The box never hit the floor. It was like gravity reversed itself. The box sprang up to her open hand, and she simply placed it in her cart. I averted my eyes when she finally did look my way, and we both pretended it never happened.”

  It was surprising to think of Mom this way. I’d never seen her do anything remotely magical. At least, nothing I could remember.

  “Did she know you were a Vila, too?” I asked.

  “I don’t think she even knew what she was, to tell you the truth.”

  Exactly like me. At least, before Lilura filled me in.

  “Why didn’t you approach her?”

  Lilura waved a hand at me in dismissal. “Your mother wouldn’t have listened. She thought she was a witch.”

  I blinked, taking in her words. “How do you know?”

  “When you and your sister were little, your mother would get together with a group of women from out of town. They were Wiccans, but some of them thought they were of witch blood.” Lilura shook her head. “They weren’t. The only magical one in the group was your mother.”

  “I don’t remember her meeting up with anyone,” I said.

  “You were too small to remember. Or too busy having a childhood. Your mother and the others were mixed up in magic they didn’t understand. I kept watch. If it wasn’t for me, they could have gotten into a lot of trouble. Dark magic could be conjured up, especially if the Wiccans led your mother down the wrong path. That would have been disastrous.

  “I must have cast a hundred protection spells on them. But it wasn’t enough to stop your mother from using her powers for personal gain. She abused her powers and most likely caught the attention of a Reaper. Imagine, a Reaper after you, and you don’t know why. A nightmare like that has been known to drive many unknowledgeable Vila insane. Which pleases the Reaper, because he feeds off a tortured soul. If you can’t pay a Reaper with pain, then he can take your mind instead.”

  I couldn’t decide what was worse, a Reaper taking your soul or stealing your sanity.

  Lilura leaned forward on the table. “When your mother was taken away, I kept watch over you and your sister, as much as I could anyway. I knew that if either of you were anything like your mother, trouble was coming …” She leaned back in her chair. “Looks like I was right.”

  Goosebumps prickled my skin. “Mara,” I whispered.

  “When your sister got hit by the bus, I called my grandson to come help. I had a feeling it wasn’t just an accident, and it might lead to something bigger.”

  I rubbed my arms. “Can’t I just bring Mara here? Maybe you could, I don’t know, fix her?”

  Lilura shook her head. “The Reaper’s tethered to her somehow. If you bring her here, he might find out what we’re doing. And stop us.”

  Chase came back, laying a gray book on the table. Its spine was broken, and the pages made clicking noises as he turned them. The book was filled with text, but every so often, I caught a glimpse of a drawing or a sketch. One of the pictures caught my attention. “Wait.”

  My hand shot out, catching Chase’s wrist before he could flip the page. His skin was warm under mine, soft. I quickly let go and gestured at the sketch of a woman, slicing her wrist with a wicked-looking knife. “Mara’s arms.” I fidgeted, uncomfortable with sharing such an intimate family detail with near strangers. Then again, it wasn’t like things could get much worse. “I think she’s been hurting herself.” I stabbed a finger at the page. “Like that.”