The three witches sat in a diner by the river. The town harbored a submarine base, and there were sailors everywhere. A group of officers in white dress uniforms sat at the next table and occasionally glanced their way; Alexandra wondered if it was Diana or Hela they found so interesting. Hela had chased her to New England in fur boots, black jeans, and a leather jacket that Mr. Blaxley had bought for her.

Alexandra wished she could send Hela away, but she was too weak to make demands or intimidate her. She had barely any appetite, while Hela dug into her double-bacon burger.

Diana eyed Hela. "You're a Thule witch."

"They don't call themselves that," Alexandra said.

"No? It's their designation on the Confederation Census."

"Yeah, and we know how reliable the Confederation Census is. She was sent to do my father's bidding, so she's loyal to him."

Hela said nothing.

"The Thule, like the Indian nations, have joined the secessionist movement spreading from the west," Diana said. "The Confederation's regiments are preparing to attack wizarding communities from Yukon down to the Southwest. I expect there will be some very bloody battles soon. Both sides have tried to avoid drawing even more attention from Muggles, but increasingly, no one cares about that. Your people have also been allying with the Dark Convention. The Confederation will not be merciful."

Hela's dark eyes looked away.

"You know a lot about what's going on for an ex-Inquisitor," Alexandra said.

"Yes, I try to stay informed. Hence my knowing about your father's activities. You were so self-righteous about the Deathly Regiment, but you've gone right along with the Thorn Circle kidnapping innocent children in retaliation."

Alexandra looked down at the sandwich she'd ordered. She wasn't sure she could eat it—she still felt sick to her stomach, and only the shakiness of her limbs and the dry, parched feeling in her mouth and throat made her want to try. She sipped some soda. "I didn't exactly go along with it. I didn't know he was doing it until… he'd started doing it. And it's not like he'll just let them all go if I ask him. Anyway, all the Confederation has to do is release Lucilla and Drucilla. Seems like a fair trade to me."

It wasn't really that simple and she knew it. She picked up the sandwich, still not feeling very hungry.

"Do you really think that's the only thing your father asked for?" Diana asked. "Your sisters aren't the only members of the Thorn Circle who've been captured, and your father made other demands for the lives of his hostages. He's threatened to start returning bodies if anything should happen to the Kings, or if any more Aurors or Inquisitors appear in Larkin Mills. Now that the Confederation is openly at war, the fear of Abraham Thorn's personal retribution that has long kept sensible people from interfering with his children is no longer sufficient."

Alexandra set down her sandwich. Her father was protecting her and Julia by threatening to kill the hostages? She felt queasy all over again.

"How did you get involved, anyway?" she asked.

"As I said, I stay informed. Especially about what your father is up to." Diana Grimm's dark, judgmental scowl was all too familiar.

"Where is The Castle?" Alexandra asked.

"I don't know."

Alexandra welcomed the flash of anger that pierced her malaise. "You said—"

"No one knows where it is," Diana said. "Not even the original architects. They were Obliviated after the facility was completed."

"Then how—"

"It's only accessible by Portkey. And only by specially enchanted Portkeys. No one can enter without someone else leaving, and vice versa. The population of prisoners and guards is a constant."

"I see." Alexandra took a small bite of her sandwich. Hela listened silently as she continued to eat her burger.

After she'd swallowed, Alexandra said, "Prisoners and guards have to come from somewhere."

"Just so. And that place, while highly classified, is known."

"To Special Inquisitors, for example?"

Diana smiled. "Indeed."

"I'm guessing if they know you've gone rogue, they have some security."

"Of course they do. Even before I went rogue. So forget about Imperius curses, polyjuice potions, metamorphmaguses, invisibility cloaks, transfiguration, smuggling in your own Portkey—they've thought of all those things."

"So what do you intend by telling me all this? Do you have any ideas? Some way to get my sisters out of there?"

"Ideas? Perhaps, but I won't be joining you in whatever plan you and your father concoct. I wouldn't go so far as to say The Castle is inescapable—no one's ever done it yet, but magic makes the impossible possible, doesn't it? No one knows how you escaped Eerie Island, or infiltrated Storm King Mountain and got out again. I don't suppose you'd like to share that with me, now that we're fellow fugitives?"

"Not really," Alexandra said. "Unless you'd like to join the Thorn Circle."

"Never." Her aunt's face turned stern and humorless again. "So, that would be something you and your father must figure out, if you can."

"And you'll tell us where the place they… castle to The Castle from is?"

"In exchange," Diana said, "for the release of all those hostages."

Alexandra had managed to eat half her sandwich. She set the rest down uneaten. Hela had finished her burger and fries. She was still listening attentively, but hadn't spoken once during the conversation.

"I'll see what I can do," Alexandra said.

Alexandra ditched Hela in Connecticut. She wanted to question her about her ability to follow her, but she needed some rest after her experience at the seven-gabled house.

She returned to the safehouse, where Livia and her husband had made a guest room for her. Alexandra avoided them both, too exhausted to worry about being rude. She collapsed onto her bed, and slept until she was woken by Livia knocking on her door.

Livia didn't have Nicholas with her. She sat down in a small chair next to a small desk, and adjusted her glasses.

"I just spoke to Claudia," she said.

"I didn't do anything," Alexandra said. "And anyway, it didn't work. And I'm fine."

Livia folded her hands in her lap. Her eyes looked large and owlish behind her glasses.

"It's not as if either of us have any control over you," she said. "But I'm very worried about you. So is Claudia."

Alexandra sighed. "Livia, you know what I've been up to for the past few months. It's not going to get any safer for me. And I'm not going to hide out in a safehouse waiting for the war to end." She knew this was unfair; Livia had a husband, and a child. But she kept going. "You know that for years, Claudia didn't want to hear a thing about what I was doing in the wizarding world. And neither did you. I'm glad—really glad—that that's changed, and now I can actually talk to you both. And I try to tell Claudia as much as I can without freaking her out. But you're right—you have no say in this. This is a war and you know what that means. You've secretly been doing our father's bidding as long as I've been alive. You should know better than to try and start acting like a mom to me."

Alexandra didn't expect Livia to look so hurt.

"You're the youngest of us," Livia said. "Father should never have dragged you into this. He should never have allowed it. He should have sent you away. Packed you off to Hogwarts or Beauxbatons or Alexandria while he still could."

"Yeah, well, too late." Alexandra stood up and pulled her heavy winter coat out of her closet.

"Where are you going?" Livia asked.

"To see an underwater panther. And please don't follow me again, or have Hela follow me."

"We're concerned about you."

Alexandra turned to face Livia. "I've already accepted that I could die. I wish I knew how to make you and Claudia accept it."

She left Livia sitting there and walked out of the safehouse. It was daylight now, and there were people and cars on the street. Alexandra walked a block away before she took a seven-league step. She ran as if being chased, and arrived at the shores of Lake Erie in seconds. She had barely taken a dozen steps, but she was as breathless as if she had actually run the entire distance.

Hands on her knees, she panted and caught her breath. Straightening, she surveyed the black, thundering storm clouds that covered the lake from one end of the horizon to the other.

She looked up into the sky. There was more lightning crackling there than she could ever remember seeing in her life. She searched for the outline of a giant black bird, but all she saw was clouds.

She looked out across the water. "Sometimes I do stupid things."

Then she pointed her wand, and said, "Accio obol."

She wasn't sure it would work. How far might the coin have been carried by waves and tides? But she hadn't really thrown it very far… and her Charms were a lot stronger than her arm. She didn't see the glint of metal when it emerged from the water, but it flew into her hand, wet and still unnaturally cold.

Remembering the obol that Hela had buried, she cast a Summoning Charm again. After several seconds, a second obol burrowed its way up through the gravel at her feet and flew into her hand.

She didn't attempt a Summoning, or even a rhyme. She just put one obol in her pocket and held the other one tightly in her hand, and said, "Quimley."

A moment later, the elf appeared with a pop.

Alexandra opened her palm to reveal the coin. "They get your attention, don't they?" she said. "They might not enslave you, but anyone who bears an obol can call on elves to negotiate with them."

"Negotiate… is a word wizards use," Quimley said. Alexandra couldn't read the elf's expression. "Alexandra Quick speaks of ancient compacts she does not truly understand."

"I'd understand them if you explained them to me."

Quimley blinked slowly, and his mouth turned down in a small frown.

"I don't mean to hurt you Quimley. And I definitely don't want to compel you. But, would you mind terribly taking me to the Lands Below again to speak to my father? Please?"

"Do not give Quimley an obol," Quimley said.

"Okay," Alexandra said.

Quimley held out a hand. Alexandra took his hand in hers, and the elf's dry, thin fingers closed around hers. They vanished.

The Thorn Circle's encampment in the Lands Below looked larger and more complete than last time. The stone buildings had been further shaped by magic, now not just for defensive purposes, but decoratively as well. The place was practically a small town, surrounded by a wall ten feet tall. Alexandra remembered giant scorpions, a murderous deer-woman, and shark-toothed rabbit-people, as well as underwater panthers. The Lands Below were full of monsters.

There were more people here now—hard-faced, unpleasant-looking witches and wizards, a couple of trolls rolling dice on a large, flat stone disk like a table, and sitting on top of a small pueblo-like rock house, smoking a pipe, was a goblin. Alexandra looked around at all these newcomers as they walked up to her father's "castle." Some of them looked back at her. A couple of wizards whispered and pointed. They clearly recognized her.

"Is there some reason why you can't just Apparate us directly inside?" Alexandra asked, when they reached the doorless opening and walked inside.

Quimley looked at her. "Abraham Thorn would not like it."

That was as good a reason as any, she supposed.

Her father must have known they were coming—maybe Quimley had even told him before leaving to fetch her. He waited for them on the ground floor, arms folded. Alexandra was surprised to see another elf sweeping the floor with a little broom, and several more polishing the still-motionless ranks of Doomguards.

Seated in a chair by the steps, Oren was reading a wizard newspaper. There was a stack of newspapers as tall as Quimley next to him—he seemed to be searching through them for something in particular. There was a great deal of activity going on here that Alexandra wasn't part of.

"You have… house-elf servants now?" she asked.

"Not servants," Abraham Thorn said. "Free elves. They joined my cause of their own volition, and they are paid." The nearest elf paused in his sweeping and nodded vigorously. He wore clothes like rags stitched together, though they were clean. He reached into a crudely-sewn pocket and withdrew a gold coin, which he held up with evident pride. Alexandra had only ever seen elves recoil in shock and horror at the notion of being paid, or else begging, ashamed.

"It is true, daughter of Thorn," Quimley said. "Not many elves wish to join us here. Most free elves who have been cast out would quickly accept service in a wizard household again." Quimley shook his head. "But a few sought Abraham Thorn out and begged to join him, as Quimley did."

"So they could…" Alexandra lowered her voice to a whisper. She didn't want to offend them. "Sweep and polish?"

"It is in their nature to be helpful," her father said. "This place, as you can see, is hardly in need of sweeping and polishing and does not benefit much by it, but it makes them happy. I ask them what they wish to do, Alexandra, and let them do what pleases them. They brought our gold and other necessities here, and they take care of our guests."

"Guests." Alexandra turned her attention back to her father. "You mean the hostages."

Quimley looked down. Her father frowned. "Why are you here, daughter? Again? I told Blake you were to resume your survey of—"

"Lucilla and Drucilla are being held at The Castle," Alexandra said.

Her father stopped talking.

"Do you know where it is? Or how to get there?"

"No," he said.

"Diana Grimm knows," Alexandra said. And excitedly, she explained what her aunt had told her, and her offer. Her father listened, silently but for an occasional "Ah."

"So all you have to do is release the hostages, and we can rescue Lucy and Dru!" Alexandra finished.

"That is not all we have to do," her father said. "Diana explained the difficulties in getting in and out of The Castle. Knowing the starting point is only the beginning. It is almost certainly a trap, we have no idea what Lucilla and Drucilla's condition is inside that… place, and—"

"So we find out!" Alexandra shouted. "So we make a plan, and then we go get them! Because you're the most powerful wizard in the world and the Enemy of the Confederation, and you'll do anything to protect your daughters, right?"

Despite the fearsome scowl he gave her, Alexandra's fury was not quenched.

"Yes," he said at last. "Once we get that information from Diana."

"As soon as all the hostages are released—"

"No," he said. "I assume she gave you a means to contact her?"

Alexandra nodded.

"Then you and I and Medea, daughter, will lay a trap for her."

"We'll what?"

"I can force Diana to reveal what she knows." At Alexandra's horrified expression, he said, "I mean Legilimency, and Veritaserum. I am not going to torture your aunt."

"And if she's too good an Occlumens? Assuming you could even capture her in the first place." Alexandra shook her head. "And anyway, no! I'm not going to do that! Why do you want to keep a bunch of children as hostages anyway?"

"To keep you and Julia safe, among many other reasons." His expression was darkening again.

"No." Alexandra folded her arms. "I won't do it. I want us to rescue Lucy and Dru, and I want us to release the hostages and let Diana help us."

"Alexandra, your nobility is admirable, but need I remind you again that this is war, and that you swore to obey me?"

Alexandra swallowed past a lump in her throat. She felt a humiliating wave of rage and helplessness wash over her that threatened to bring tears to her eyes.

"What will you do if I refuse?" she asked.

He regarded her for several long moments. Beside her, Quimley was absolutely silent. Across the room, Oren and the other elves sensed the tension in the air. They all paused in what they were doing to stare in Alexandra's direction.

At last her father said, "Even if I could force you to bend to my will, my dearest child, I would not. But your desire to accomplish your goals bloodlessly, without having to make difficult choices, has become an impediment to your usefulness. You are making a choice between your aunt and your sisters."

"That's not fair," Alexandra said. She felt the tears, though she tried to suppress them. "You're the one making a choice—you could choose to do what Diana wants and let the kids go."

"There is more at stake here than just Lucilla and Drucilla's lives. I will do everything in my power to rescue them from The Castle, but—"

"Not everything," Alexandra interrupted.

His face clouded with anger, but Alexandra barely noticed.

"Quimley, take Alexandra back whence she came," Abraham Thorn said. "Alexandra, I will investigate this Castle. Diana Grimm is surely not the only person we can capture and interrogate."

"Right, because torturing some Special Inquisitor is so much easier! And the Confederation totally won't figure out what you're up to! And—"

"Please, Alexandra Quick," said Quimley tremulously. His hand was extended toward her. "Father and daughter should not shout at each other."

She looked down at him. Her eyes were blazing with fury. Quimley looked terrified. She turned back to her father, wanting to rage, scream, and stomp her feet. It made her feel helpless and impotent, like a child having a tantrum, despite the yew wand crackling against her body and making the air as hot and salty as her tears. Her father's expression was no less angry, though far more controlled. She knew she wouldn't win this battle by screaming at him. Her entire body trembled.

"If we don't get Lucy and Dru back," she said, in a voice as taut and stretched as her nerves, "I will never forgive you."

She reached for Quimley's hand and took it, being careful not to crush the elf's tiny fingers in her anger.

The two of them disappeared from the Lands Below.

By the shores of Lake Erie, Alexandra sank to her knees and pounded her fists on the ground until the pain made her stop. Quimley stood awkwardly a few feet away, putting his hands up to shield his eyes from flying gravel.

All her life, Alexandra had associated crying with weakness and loss of control. She knew she had lost control. She'd tried to face her father as an equal, and though she felt the righteousness of her arguments, she'd been sent away like an angry teenager banished to her room.

When she finally looked up, Quimley was still there. Around her, the small stones and pebbles lining the beach had spontaneously piled up in grotesque figures, angry, crude little statues made of rocks held together with magic and anger, making fists, pointing accusingly, and screaming at the sky. Despite the raw, unshaped nature of her spontaneous "sculptures," they looked disturbingly alive, as if they might move on their own at any moment. But as she stared at them with shock and dismay, they all slid apart, tumbling into piles.

She bowed her head, feeling defeated.

"You can go, Quimley," she said. "I can find my own way home." Where was home for her? Not Larkin Mills anymore. Not that safehouse where Livia and her family were hiding.

"Quimley wishes he knew where Alexandra Quick's sisters are," said the elf. "Quimley would fetch them."

Alexandra smiled at that, and wiped at her tears with her hand. She shook her head. "I don't think it would work. Not even for an elf. And it's one thing to ask me and my father to risk ourselves—you don't owe us your life."

"Quimley is a free elf. Does not a free being decide his own life's worth?"

She wasn't sure what to say to that. Quimley surprised her again by saying, "Quimley knows Abraham Thorn is just, but Quimley does not like gathering children as if to make gifts of them."

Alexandra nodded very seriously, knowing what Quimley meant by "gifts."

"Quimley should return," he said. Alexandra sensed the elf was about to leave, and also that there was something unsaid.

She reached into her pocket and felt the token, still cool to her touch. "Quimley, wait. I have questions. About the Compact. And obols."

Quimley blanched when he saw the coin.

"Don't worry, I won't give it to you," she said.

"What does Alexandra Quick wish to know?" Quimley asked.

"What is the Compact?"

"An ancient agreement, between elves and wizards. It was made before the world was divided into Above and Below, Here and Away. Before we were mortal."

"Elves used to be immortal?"

"So it is said. This was very, very long ago, daughter of Thorn. No living wizard remembers it. Probably no living elf does either. Among your kind and mine, few know more than ancient stories."

"And you? What do you know, Quimley?"

The elf shivered, but Alexandra fixed her green eyes on his and, by the force of her will, would not let him look away.

"Stories," he said, in a voice that was almost a whisper. "Only stories. That once we paid a price for our immortality. An even more ancient debt."

"A debt to who?"

Quimley shrugged. "There are only other stories. Probably none are true. Only all agree that wizards offered to pay that debt for us, in exchange for our servitude."

"That debt being… the Most Terrible Gift?"

Quimley shuddered and nodded.

"But… house elves served wizards before they came to the New World. The bargain the Confederation made with the Generous Ones—"

"Perhaps elves everywhere owed the same debt and made similar bargains with wizardkind. Alexandra Quick knows that time is not the same in the Lands Below. Perhaps the Confederation's bargain was the original one."

"That makes no sense. The Confederation bargained for power, and control over the Lands Below."

"Quimley is not wise, and elves are not learned. Why does Alexandra Quick want to know these things? How can they help her?"

"What if the Compact were broken?" Alexandra asked.

"How can that be?"

"I'm not sure. But what if?"

"Quimley cannot say. Quimley thinks… the world would change. For elves, and for wizards."

"Why do we need obols to travel to the Lands Below?"

Quimley shivered.

"It's important, Quimley." Alexandra felt guilty for pressuring the elf to speak of things he didn't want to, but she pushed on relentlessly. "You can go to the Lands Below by yourself. Why can't I, or my father? Why—" She held up her obol, provoking another shudder from Quimley. "Why do we have to give an obol to one of you to go there?"

"That was the Compact with the Generous Ones," Quimley mumbled. "Let none enter and let none leave, who does not pay the price of a life."

"But you took me there and back without an obol."

Quimley raised his head. "Quimley is a free elf now."

"That's all it takes? A free elf can ignore the toll?"

For a moment, Quimley almost looked—annoyed. Or frustrated. "Daughter of Thorn, Quimley cannot explain such things in the language of wizards. Quimley knows that wizards learn words and motions and ingredients for potions, and this is how you do magic. We are not like you. Yes, we can go where you cannot, yet you can do things we cannot. Alexandra Quick wishes to know how to travel to the Lands Below? Someone must pay. Always someone must pay. The Generous Ones control the passage for your kind. That is the Compact."

"That is what my father's breaking," Alexandra said.

Quimley swallowed and nodded. "He tries. Yet the Compact is not so easily broken. Not for all elves."

Alexandra clenched the obol in her fist, then slowly put it back in her pocket.

"Then I'll break it."

Quimley's eyes seemed to take up half his face. "How will Alexandra Quick do that?"

"I'm not sure yet." In the cracks between worlds, in the secret of the Deathly Regiment, between the entrances to the Lands Below and the Generous Ones' Gifting Place, hid the answer to Quimley's stories. She knew she was speaking once more of a grandiose ambition that far outstripped her knowledge or her power. But she meant what she said.

"Abraham Thorn wishes Quimley to return," Quimley said.

Alexandra didn't ask how he knew this. She just said, "You don't have to go back, you know."

"Elves does as elves is told."

"Free elves do what they choose."

Quimley made a wry face. "Daughter of Thorn, free will is very different for your kind and mine."

Alexandra didn't understand. She shook his small hand sadly, and remained on her knees, on the pebbly shore of the lake, even after he Apparated away.

She wondered if she were so different from Quimley, thinking herself free and yet still bound to her father.

All right, Father, she thought. I may do your bidding… for now. But I'm not an elf.

With an effort that was more than physical, she rose to her feet, and walked along the beach until she found what she was looking for: a small pool of still water, where waves from the lake, driven by the wind, had washed ashore and receded. It was little more than a mud puddle, but it would, she thought, suffice for the purpose.

From her pocket, Alexandra withdrew the needle Brigitte Jumeau had given her, held it to her thumb, and pierced the skin. She grimaced as her blood dribbled into the water.

It was late afternoon and the sun was behind her. She couldn't see much in the murky water as her blood clouded the center of it, and nothing magical seemed to happen. She glared at the needle, wondering if its magic had faded, or Jumeau had deceived her, or just didn't want to answer.

Then the puddle erupted. Alexandra gasped as water stained with red splashed against her face and hands. Something emerged from it—a red-black figure much too dark to be colored by Alexandra's blood alone. It was inhuman, gaunt and angular with no discernible facial features except a pair of bright white eyes in a sharp, pointed skull. It was humanoid in form, but for the black skeletal wings rising from its shoulders.

The horrid little homunculus glowered at her, and Alexandra stared back.

"There… you… are…" it said, in a whisper that sounded like a hiss and carried just a trace of Brigitte Jumeau's Louisiana accent. "I've… been scrying for you… you terrible child. I appreciate… you calling upon me… to save me the trouble… of finding you."

"And what will you do if you find me?" Alexandra asked.

The homunculus tilted towards her, and its wings flapped.

"An eye… for an eye," it/she said. It made a little burbling sound of frustration. "You are in… Central Territory. You can't hide there forever. I'll send Central's… Auror Authority after you… if you flee… sooner or later you'll be in a Territory… from which I can… extradite you!"

"I'm guessing this is about your nephew, Marcelius," Alexandra said. "Capturing me won't get him back. If my father won't trade him for my sisters, what makes you think he'll trade him for me?"

Jumeau's homunculus managed to convey quite an intense glare of fury with its dark, inexpressive face. "So then? Why… did you call me?"

"My father won't make a trade," Alexandra said. "But I will."

The homunculus was motionless for a moment. Then it said, "Are you… offering to surrender yourself?"

Alexandra stared into the thing's unblinking white eyes. She wished she could read Jumeau's expression or tone of voice. "Yes."

It moved, a sort of shimmying motion; Alexandra wasn't sure if it was a shudder or laughter or just some random spasm triggered by Jumeau's control over her sorcerous avatar. Then it said, "I cannot… exchange you… for both your sisters. There must be… two."

That confirmed what her aunt had told her. Alexandra wasn't going to reveal to Jumeau that she knew about The Castle, so she argued. "I thought I'm an Enemy of the Confederation. I should be worth two of my sisters who were going to flee the Confederation anyway. And I can return your nephew to you."

"Can you?"

"Yes," Alexandra said, with more confidence than she actually felt.

Now the small, dark creature made a motion like shaking its head. "Even so. It cannot be done. An eye for an eye. One for one."

It was what she was afraid of, and it made her plan a lot more risky, with so many unknowns piled onto what she already didn't know. "And if it's just me? Can I trade myself for one of them?"

The homunculus made a gurgling sound. Alexandra frowned. Was Jumeau laughing?

"Which one? Do you… have a preference?"

"No," Alexandra said, trying to hide her anger. "And if you're playing me, screw you. You'll never see Marcelius again."

"Wicked child!" The thing spread its wings as if to take off and launch itself at her. It managed to look intimidating despite its diminutive size, and Alexandra tightened her grip on her wand. But it remained rooted in the puddle of water. "I do not… deal in bad faith. Tell me…where, and I will deliver to you… a binding contract… signed in blood."

"The Pruett School, in Larkin Mills. It's a day school. Send it to me there, c/o Madam Erdglass. That's the old bat who teaches classes there. I think she'll hold it for me, if you ask her. Just make sure she's awake when you tell her. She's pretty old and not all there."

"I can do that," said the homunculus.

"This won't happen immediately. I need to make preparations."

"Yesss… get your affairs in order." Jumeau's homunculus radiated malice. "And do not think… of trying to trick me, girl."

"Likewise." Alexandra leaned forward until she was almost nose to nose with the homunculus—if it had a nose. "Whatever you think of threatening me with, remember that my father still has all those other children of the Elect."

"Like father… like daughter," said the homunculus, and then it collapsed with a crimson splash. The pool of water rippled, then became still and cloudy.

Alexandra sat up, and wiped the back of her hand against her face. It came away streaked with red-black blood. She grimaced and cast a charm to flick away the stains on her skin and clothes. Then she rose to her feet again, and returned to the safehouse.