“It is.” Nadia nodded slowly. “But it’s worth a try.”

Mateo felt the urge to tell her not to do it—whatever it was—to get between her and Elizabeth if he could. But he knew he couldn’t. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try to turn the spell back on her,” Nadia said, her dark eyes lighting up. “Unmagic her, at least a little bit. We’re going to fight fire with fire.”

18

“A STEADFAST,” ELIZABETH MURMURED.

She stood on the shore, on a patch of beach so rocky that no houses had been built very near. Her legs were thigh-deep in the water; the sharp fragments of shells underneath her bare feet cut into her flesh. Droplets of her blood would be mingling with the seawater even now. The One Beneath could claim the entire sound as her blood soon.

He needs so little to claim us, Asa said. Does that never seem unjust to you?

“Silence, beast.”

The more she thought about the identity of Nadia Caldani’s Steadfast, the less certain she was. Verlaine Laughton was the obvious choice, the only girl she had seen regularly in Nadia’s company. Yet she was so new to Nadia’s life—such an unusual person to reach out to.

They might have known each other before, Asa chimed in. Did you ever consider that? People talk via computers now. The witch and Verlaine could have been friends online.

Elizabeth had never used a computer in her life and did not intend to begin at this late date. As cold sea spray stung her face, she considered the possibility of some past acquaintance between Nadia and Verlaine. It seemed unlikely. They had not greeted each other that first day at school, and their attitude toward each other during the few days Elizabeth had observed them early in the semester—it was more wary than warm. No, they had been strangers before.

Yet what kind of a Steadfast could Verlaine Laughton be? Bereft as she was, could she even hold the power? Elizabeth supposed it was possible—this was something she’d never tested—though she found it surprising.

Must be fun for you. You get so few surprises these days.

Although Elizabeth did not appreciate the demon’s attempts at levity, there was truth to what he said. This world felt so old to her—so peculiar and yet so predictable. People wore shapeless, flimsy clothing now, and the women were brazen, and everyone talked to little machines they held in their hands, but they were as venal and selfish as they had ever been. Their hopes were just as craven, their perspective as small. She’d abandoned any attempt to take part in their ordinary affairs many decades ago, beyond her token school attendance to look after the Chamber. Being with ordinary mortals increasingly felt to her like watching small, squabbling children fighting over broken toys.

Even the Craft could no longer fascinate her; she had mastered it so long ago. This one tiny unanswered question about a Steadfast was the first flicker of uncertainty she had felt in many years, and briefly it entertained her. It was like seeing a butterfly in the desert.