Strangely, a lower shelf seemed to be protected by the same golden glow that blazed from the door upstairs. When she reached for the books, her hand was repelled by an invisible force. So of course, those were the ones she most wanted to read. Gold lettering looped up their faded blue and maroon spines: Fasciculus Chemicus, Iconologia, and Picatrix. She had no clue what any of that meant, just a strong desire to do whatever she wasn’t supposed to do.

After giving up on the enchanted books, she rose to take one last peek in the armory. When she stepped into the room, she caught a glimpse of the clock mounted above the mirror. It was past midnight. That was, what, five or six a.m. in the UK? She really needed to get some rest.

She trudged up the stairs to her new bedroom and crawled under the coverlet. As she lay in the darkness, she closed her eyes, trying to calm the thoughts blazing through her mind.

Muppet’s singed shirt, Kester’s fiery eyes and clawed fingers, the moor fiend’s leering grin.

She’d never fall asleep with these thoughts whirling in her skull. She imagined one of her favorite places: a ruined church near the tower of London, its crumbling stone walls covered in ivy. But even with that serene image in her mind, Kester’s words rang in her head: You’re a demon.

The concept was horrifying. She’d always known she was different, but… a demon? A mortal one, no less. You’d think that one of the benefits of demonhood would be immortality, but no. Not only was she an abomination and a bringer of death, but she had to die, just like everyone else. She rubbed her white stone between her fingers, but it wasn’t giving her comfort tonight.

She pulled her bedsheets tighter. She hadn’t asked for any of this. At least, she didn’t think she had. As long as she could remember, the strange scar had marred her shoulder. Who knew how she got it? She was a Mystery Girl all right—a Mystery Girl who’d made a terrible decision she couldn’t even remember. And now she was stuck in a foreign country, permanently cut off from her best friend.

That was the thing that really bothered her. More than anything, she wanted to find a way to phone Katie, just to hear a friendly voice again. But she really didn’t want to find out what Kester’s threat meant. And what could she even say to Katie without sounding like a complete and utter lunatic? Heat rose in her chest, and sweat beaded on her face.