Her eyes widened. "No way," she said, sounding for the first time like the middle schooler she probably was.

"Way," I croaked.

For a second, she looked unsure, and the knife at my throat slid back, maybe an inch or so. It was all I needed.

I rolled hard onto one side. The move pulled something in my shoulder so badly that tears sprang to my eyes, but it still had the desired effect of dumping the girl off me.

She shrieked, and I heard a muffled thump that I really, really hoped was the knife hitting the ground. I didn't give myself time to check, though.

On my hands and knees, I scrambled over to Archer's sword. My fingers closed around the hilt, and I dragged it toward me.

Using the sword for leverage, I pushed myself to my feet and turned back to the girl. She was still sitting on the ground, leaning back on her hands, her breath coming hard and fast. All traces of Badass Girl Scout were gone from her face; now she was just a scared little kid.

I wondered why. I mean, I was still leaning on the sword, not pointing it at her. My legs were trembling so much, I was sure she could see it, and I knew my face was streaked with tears and sweat. I couldn't have made a very intimidating-

And then I remembered her face when she'd heard my name. She knew me, or at least knew of me. Which meant she probably knew what I was.

Or used to be.

I tried to give her my best "I Am A Demon Princess" look, which was quite the challenge, seeing as how my hair was hanging in my face and my nose was running. "What's your name?" I asked.

The girl kept her eyes on me, but her hands were moving restlessly over the ground around her, no doubt searching for the knife. "Izzy," she said.

I raised both my eyebrows. Not exactly a name to strike fear into the heart.

Izzy must've read that in my expression, because she frowned. "I'm Isolde Brannick, daughter of Aislinn, daughter of Fiona, daughter of-"

"Right, right, daughter of a bunch of fierce ladies, got it." I ran a hand over my face, my eyes aching and gritty. I wasn't sure I'd ever been so tired in my life. My head felt like it was filled with cement, and even my heartbeat seemed heavy and sluggish. There was also this weird, niggling feeling at the back of my mind, like I was missing something important.

Shoving that aside, I turned my attention back to Izzy. "I'm looking for Grace Mercer." As soon as I said Mom's name, a thick, painful lump rose in my throat. I blinked as I added, "I was told she was with the Brannicks, and I really need to find her." And throw my arms around her, and cry for maybe a thousand years, I thought.

But Izzy shook her head. "There's no Grace Mercer with us."

The words fell on me like blows. "No, she has to be," I said. Izzy wavered in front of me, and I realized I was seeing her through tears. "Call said she was with the Brannicks," I insisted, my voice cracking.

Izzy sat up straighter. "Well, whoever Call is, he was wrong. There are only Brannicks back at the compound." Find Mom. That had been the only thing I'd focused on from the moment Call turned to run into Thorne Abbey. Because if I could find Mom, then somehow everything would be okay, and I'd be able to find everyone else, too.

My dad, and Jenna, and Archer, and Cal.

A wave of grief and exhaustion slammed into me. If Mom wasn't here, then I'd just put myself right in the middle of enemy territory for nothing.

No powers. No parents. No friends.

In that moment, I let myself entertain the idea of just putting the sword down and lying on the ground. It would feel good, and really, if I'd lost everything, who cared what this tiny homicidal person did to me?

But just as quickly, I shut that thought right the heck down. No way had I survived demon attacks, and ghoul duels, and demonglass explosions to end up murdered by Raggedy Ann. Whether Mom was here or not, I was going to survive this.

My fingers tightened on the sword's hilt until I felt the metal cut into my skin. It hurt, but that was good. That might actually keep me from passing out, which in turn would keep Izzy from dissecting me, or whatever it was Brannicks did to demons.

Former demons. Whatever.

"So you guys have a compound," I said, trying to will my brain into working. "That's...cool. I bet it has bunkers and barbed wire." Izzy rolled her eyes. "Duh."

"Right, so this compound. Where exactly..." My words trailed off as the ground started swaying. Or was it me weaving from side to side? And was everything getting dimmer because the flashlight was dying, or was it my eyes that had stopped working?

"No. No, I am not going to faint."

"Um...okay?"

I shook my head. "Did I say that out loud?"

Izzy rose to her feet slowly. "You don't look so good."

I would have glared at her if my eyes hadn't been involved in more important things like not falling out of my skull. A loud chattering noise filled my head, and I realized it was my teeth.

Great. I was going into shock. That was just... so inconvenient.

My knees started to give, and I held onto the sword's handle even tighter, trying hard to stay on my feet. Archer's sword, I told myself. You can't pass out because you have to find him and help him....

But it was too late. I was slipping to the ground, and Izzy had turned around, obviously looking for the knife.

Suddenly, I noticed a faint glow coming from somewhere behind me. Confused, I started to turn toward it, figuring it was probably a Brannick hunting party. And then I felt a powerful, almost electric buzz shoot through me. I recognized it immediately.

Magic.

I stood completely still, disoriented. Had my powers just-but no. Whatever was flowing through me, it didn't feel like my magic. I'd always felt my powers shoot up through my feet, rushing from the ground. This magic felt like something light and cold settling on top of my head. Like snow.

Like Elodie's magic.

That's because it is my magic, moron, Elodie's voice sneered inside my head.

"What?" I tried to say. But my mouth wouldn't move. One of my arms lifted from my side, but I wasn't moving it, either. And I certainly didn't shoot a golden bolt of power from my fingertips into Izzy's back.

Shrieking, Izzy tumbled to the ground.

I walked forward, the sword lifted high, but again, it was like I was a puppet. I could feel the grooved metal of the sword's hilt in my hands, and the pain in my shoulders from the strain of lifting it, but I had no control over what I was doing.

Izzy had managed to get to her feet and was stumbling away from me. She backed into a tree with a thump, and I watched as I placed the tip of the blade at her throat.

Even as I began to wig out inside my own head, I could feel Elodie's triumph blazing through me.

Get out! I screamed silently. I wouldn't even want to share a dorm room with you, much less my body.

No way, was Elodie's only reply.

"I'm super over you right now," I heard myself snarl to Izzy. "So you can either tell me where my mom is, or I can shish kebab you. Your choice." Izzy was panting, and there were tears pooling in her big green eyes.

She's like, twelve, Elodie, I thought.

Whatever, Elodie replied. I could practically hear the eye-roll in her voice.

"I-" Izzy said, her eyes darting to look somewhere over my shoulder.

I tried to turn my head to look, but Elodie kept my gaze riveted on Izzy.

"You know," I said, feeling my lips curve into a smirk, "a Brannick killed by a demon with one of ll'Occhio di Dio's swords. There's something kind of delicious about that, don't you think?"

There is something behind me, you crazy person! I shouted inwardly. Stop doing the creepy villain thing, and look!

But Elodie ignored me.

I was still studying Izzy's face when her look of terror suddenly crumpled into relief. I wasn't sure which emotion was stronger, my panic or Elodie's confusion, both of which I could feel welling up from my stomach.

And then both feelings were eclipsed by an enormous bolt of pain as something crashed into the back of my skull.

CHAPTER 3

I was dead. That was really the only explanation I had for the sensation that I was lying in a comfy bed, cool, clean-smelling sheets pulled up to my chin, and a soft hand stroking my hair.

That was nice. Being dead seemed pretty sweet, all things considered. Especially if it meant I got to nap for all eternity. I snuggled deeper into the covers. The hand on my hair moved to my back, and I realized someone was singing softly. The voice was familiar, and something about it made my chest ache. Well, that was to be expected. Angels' songs would be awfully poignant.

"'I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar, when I met you...'" the voice crooned.

I frowned. Was that really an appropriate song for the Heavenly Host to be-

Realization crashed into me. "Mom!" I cried, sitting up. That was a mistake, because as soon as I did, agony exploded through my head.

Gentle hands eased me back onto the pillows, and suddenly she was there. Mom, leaning over me, her face etched with worry and streaked with tears, but looking so beautiful that I wanted to cry, too.

"This is real, right?" I asked, glancing around the room. It was tiny and dim, and smelled faintly woodsy, like cedar. Other than the bed and the cane-back chair next to it, it was completely bare. Bright golden-red light came in the one window, so I knew it was early evening. "This isn't a dream or some kind of concussion-related hallucination?"

I felt Mom's arm around my shoulders. Her lips were warm against my temple. "I'm here, sweetie," she murmured. "Really here." And then I did cry. A lot. Big, wrenching sobs that hurt. Through them, I tried to tell Mom about everything that had happened at Thorne, but I knew I wasn't making any sense.

When the storm had finally passed, I lay against Mom, taking deep, shaking breaths. Tears were running down her face, too, wetting the top of my head. "Okay," I finally said. "That's the story of my crappy summer vacation. Your turn." Mom sighed and hugged me tighter. "Oh, Soph," she said in a very small voice, "I don't even know where to begin."

"Where are we?" I asked. "That's a pretty good starting place."

"At the Brannick compound."

Everything came back to me then. Izzy, and the sword, and Elodie turning my body into a murderous puppet.

Elodie? I asked silently. You still there?

But there was no reply. I was the only person in my head for now. Speaking of which...

"What happened to my head?"

"Finley-that's Izzy's older sister-went out looking for her. Izzy said you attacked her with your powers. I thought you said you couldn't do magic anymore."

"I can't," I said. "It's...I'll explain it later. So Finley cracked me over the head with what? A baseball bat? A Mack truck?"

"A flashlight," Mom answered, her fingers delicately parting my hair over what felt like a basketball-sized lump on the back of my head.

We were quiet then, both of us knowing what I was going to ask next: why in the heck was my mom, who'd spent most of her life running from All Things Magic, spending her summer vacay with a bunch of monster hunters?

But something told me that whatever her answer was, it was going to be complicated. And probably unpleasant. And even though I was dying to know what had brought her here, we could get to it later, preferably when my brain wasn't threatening to launch itself out of my skull.