I produced Adrian’s brush from my purse. “Something like a strand of hair?”

“Something exactly like that,” she said, clearly impressed.

I’d remembered Adrian’s complaint about Sonya using some of his personal items. Although he apparently cleaned the brush regularly (and really, I’d expect nothing less from someone who spent so much time on his hair), there were still a few lingering red strands. Carefully, I plucked the longest one from the bristles and held it up.

“What do I need to do?” I asked. I was trying to be strong, but my hands shook.

“Let’s find out.” She rose and walked into the living room, studying the shelves. Adrian turned to me.

“Is she for real?” He paused and reconsidered. “Are you for real? Spells? Magic? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I drink blood and control people’s minds. But I’ve never heard of anything like this.”

“Neither had I until a month ago.” I sighed. “And unfortunately, it is real. Worse, she thinks I have a knack for it. Do you remember at all when one of the Strigoi in your apartment caught on fire?”

“Vaguely, but yeah. It kind of all got brushed aside, and I never thought much about it.” He frowned, troubled by the memory. “I was out of it from the bite.”

“Well, it wasn’t some freak accident. It was… magic.” I gestured toward Ms. Terwilliger. “And I made it happen.”

His eyes widened. “Are you some kind of mutant human? Like a fire user? And I use mutant as a compliment, you know. I wouldn’t think less of you.”

“It’s not like vampire magic,” I said. Some part of me supposed I should be pleased that Adrian would still be friendly with a “mutant.” “It’s not some internal connection to the elements. According to her, some humans can work magic by pulling it from the world. It sounds crazy, but… well. I did set a Strigoi on fire.”

I could see Adrian taking all of this in as Ms. Terwilliger returned to us. She set down a book with a red leather cover and flipped through the pages before finding what she wanted. We all peered at it.

“That’s not English,” said Adrian helpfully.

“It’s just Greek,” I said, skimming the ingredient list. “It doesn’t seem to require much.”

“That’s because a huge part of it is mental focus,” explained Ms. Terwilliger. “It’s more complicated than it looks. It’ll take you a few hours at least.”

I took in the time on an ornate grandfather clock. “I don’t have a few hours. Too close to curfew.”

“Easily remedied,” said Ms. Terwilliger. She picked up her cell phone from the table and dialed a number from memory. “Hello, Desiree? This is Jaclyn. Yes, fine. Thank you. I have Sydney Melrose out here right now, helping me on a very crucial project.” I nearly rolled my eyes. She was perfectly aware of my last name when she needed to be, apparently. “I’m afraid she might be out past the dorm curfew, and I was wondering if you’d be kind enough to allow an extension. Yes… yes, I know. But it’s very important for my work, and I think we can all agree that with her exemplary record, she’s hardly the type we need to worry about abusing such privileges. She’s certainly one of the most trustworthy students I know.” That got a small smirk from Adrian.