Mateo considered that in silence, but there was something hovering beneath the surface—Verlaine could see how badly he wanted to speak. Finally he said, “What if we just destroyed the book?”

“How would we do that without finding it?” Verlaine said.

He shrugged. “I could burn her house down. I … might have thought about that anyway.”

Nadia put one hand on his arm. “Don’t.”

That was all she said, but the anger seemed to flow away from him.

Did they not know yet that they were crazy about each other? Verlaine had to wonder. But her curiosity was only a little moth darting about in her mind, around this great big flame that felt a lot like fear.

Elizabeth was evil and ancient and up to no good, and all they had to go up against her with was Nadia’s power and Mateo’s Steadfastness or whatever you would call it, and Verlaine’s own … newspaper internship. Wow, Elizabeth was probably throwing up from pure terror right now, only not. What were they going to do? Was there any point in doing anything? Should they just try to get their families to take cruises around Halloween? Verlaine tugged at the tips of her hair, then frowned as her fingernail caught in yet another tangle. It was a nasty one, practically matted. One of these days she was going to cut this whole mess away and go for a pixie cut. Anxious and frustrated, Verlaine hopped down from the ladder, her black Converse shoes slapping against the tile floor, and grabbed a pair of scissors to snip the tangle off.

As she did so, Mateo gasped.

Verlaine turned to look at him; so did Nadia, who frowned. “Mateo? What is it?”

“Verlaine’s hair,” he said.

She stared down at the little tangle still drifting down into the trash can. “It was never going to comb out. Besides, when it’s this long, nobody notices if it’s a little uneven on the ends.”

“I’m not talking about your hairstyle,” he said, like that ought to have been obvious, which it probably should have been. “I mean, when you cut it, there was this little … shower of sparks. Only for a second. Now it’s gone.”

“No, there wasn’t.” Why would there be?

Then it hit Verlaine: Mateo could see things other people couldn’t. He could see magic.

Nadia’s eyes widened. “What color were the sparks?”

“Dark red. Really dark. Nearly black,” Mateo answered. “The same as the ones—” His expression changed as he said, more slowly, “The same as the ones I saw the night I became Nadia’s Steadfast. They were surrounding you then, too.”

“What does that mean?” Verlaine grabbed a handful of her hair and stared at it, like suddenly she’d be able to see the magic for herself. “Did Elizabeth curse me? Or was it something with the Steadfast thing going wrong?”

“With that color, I’m guessing it’s old magic,” Nadia said, as if that were remotely comforting. “Something that happened a long time ago but still left—traces behind. And red probably means dark magic. Mateo, how come you didn’t mention it before?”