So this was why he came here. I always wondered why he had left the Middle East and traveled to North America. Now I knew. He came here because there was no Native power to oppose him. The land was fallow and was ripe for the taking. “What happens when he claims something?”

“He reaps a harvest,” Evdokia said. “The magic of the land nourishes him and makes him stronger.”

“And protects him,” Maria put in. “He’s much harder to fight on his territory. The longer he keeps it, the stronger is his bond, the more difficult it is to remove him.” She turned to me, her piercing gaze stabbing at me. “He is coming. What are you planning to do about it?”

“If he comes, I’ll try to kill him.” What else was there?

Maria spun in her chair to face Evdokia and jabbed at me with a bony finger. “She’s a moron! I told you! I told you, but no, you said—”

“Will you stop badgering her for a moment?” Evdokia snapped. She leaned forward, looking at me. “If you fight your father directly, you will die. You’re not old enough, strong enough, or educated enough.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

Evdokia grimaced. “If all of the covens, and all of the pagans, and all of the magic users of Atlanta got together and channeled their power, we could probably block your father, but we can’t exactly get everyone together in time. We don’t know how to put all of our power together. We don’t know when the claiming happens. We don’t know where.”

It would be on some tower. That was what my father did. He built towers. They were the nexus of his power and now I knew why. The taller the tower, the more he could claim with one pulse.

“You are our best chance,” Evdokia said. “There are things we can teach you, but this will take time. You have to buy us this time. You have to prevent the claiming.”

“How?”

“We don’t know,” Sienna said.

“We supported you,” Maria said. “We helped you and supplied you with undead blood. We didn’t do all this so you can go and sacrifice yourself like a dimwit.”

I always knew the witches didn’t help me out of the goodness of their hearts. They wanted a return on their investment. “He killed my mother.”

“Obnyat e pluhkuht,” Evdokia sighed.

To hug and cry. That was what exasperated Russians said when there was nothing left to do.

“Your mother gave her life so you could live,” Evdokia said. “Your dying dramatically isn’t going to help anyone. It won’t honor her memory and it won’t protect any of us. There are people in this city who depend on you. Do whatever you have to do, but you must prevent the claiming.”