“That is what I have you here to learn. So keep reading. It may be our only real hope.”

Naomi threw the book in her hands violently. It hit a shelf and rocked the shelf back and forth in an arc that slowly settled back into stillness. The book flopped down onto the carpet, broken and dejected.

Like Naomi herself.

“Keep looking,” she ordered, and stalked off into the shelves again. “I don’t care how long it takes. Just find something I can use. If you don’t, I’ll have your brother for breakfast and make him mine. I promise you that.”

“I can’t find something that isn’t here!” I shouted after her. I felt short of breath, ready to cry. This was such a bad deal. And honestly, what did it matter? Some part of me wondered that. My brother wanted it, right? He endured the bites because he wanted to have the power. He wanted to make himself into something else. Something new, and probably terrifying.

No. It mattered not just for him, but for all the people he would hurt if he grew fangs and had virtual immunity from justice. I was doing it for them as much as him.

So I kept working. My eyes felt as if they were bleeding, and my back ached so badly I was sure it was broken in a few places. Naomi only appeared to harass me and dismiss the few things I located that might be of use. I had no idea what she was doing now, but it couldn’t be good.

And then … Then I found it. This time, since Naomi wasn’t there, I tried to puzzle out what it said myself. This wasn’t even Middle English. I had no idea whether it was High or Low or just plain bizarre, but it took me half an hour to make sense of it enough to realize what I held in my hands.

The answer. And an answer I couldn’t give Naomi. No way in hell. I shivered, staring at the paper, at the dry, ancient words.

“Well?” I raised my head with a startled gasp, and found Naomi leaning over the table, inches away. She smiled slowly. “I heard your heart rate increase. You’ve found something.”

“No,” I said, and turned the page. “I didn’t. False alarm.”

I didn’t expect that would work. It didn’t. Naomi grabbed the book from me and flipped the leaf, found the passage, and began to read. Her brow furrowed, and she sent me a dark look. “What is this?” She put the book down and spun it toward me, tapping the image inked on the fragile page. “Does the girl have this?”

“Not anymore,” I said, very reluctantly. “But she used to.” The drawing on the page of that book was of a gold filigree bracelet. Amelie had given it to Claire as part of her Protection agreement. She’d taken it back later, but Claire had worn it for a while. And she hadn’t been able to remove it. Not at all. “It’s not like it was magic or anything.” Except that it wouldn’t come off, which would kind of argue … magic. Oops.