We bought a cheap motor home. I have a plan—a spell I can do. I helped Lucius build the compound and make the spell to both trap and cloak the magic within it. I can do the same thing to Ava—trap her magic inside her while hiding it at the same time. It’ll take a lot of power, though. I don’t dare put my necklace back on, but I can perform with Joseph and collect magic the old-fashioned way. Joseph hates it. I promised to give it all up, but he understands why I have to do it. We’ll just have to keep on the road to stay one step ahead of them. If I can get the spell in place and keep it there, eventually it will start using her own magic to feed it. She’ll be hidden forever.

Unless they find her or she meets another practicing magician. Then it might shatter.

And there would be nothing I could do to keep her away from the magic after that.

Mom hid who I was. All those times I asked her if magic was real, she’d stare right at me, her own daughter brimming with magic, and lie to me. I know she was doing what she thought she had to, but there’s a deep ache in my chest for what might have been if I’d been allowed to be myself. Maybe I’d be stronger now. I’d have more control over this raging river within me.

But none of it was her fault.

Everything that’s gone wrong in my life leads back to one person.

Lucius.

I want him dead.

Rage burns through me so hot that I worry I’ll light my own hands on fire.

Mom spent her whole life protecting me. She died to keep me from the very place I’m sitting now. I already know that revenge leaves you hollow, but then again, I didn’t kill the right people. Maybe I should start fresh.

My fingers itch for my knives.

But how could I possible beat him? I don’t have the skill. I don’t even have a troupe to back me up anymore.

What would Mom do? I run my hand over the journal she worked so hard to keep out of my hands, and I know. She’d want me to go home. She’d want me with Parker. She’d want me to work just as hard at keeping us together as she did.

My legs wobble beneath me as I stand, gripping the journal in my hands. I don’t want to put it back and let him hold on to any piece of her, but I’m smarter than that. Leaving it could buy me more time, so I tuck it against the black velvet lining and replace the lid, watching the swirls swallow the seams.

I can’t look back.