“That was all true,” said Mika, as they started walking in the direction of the house. “The solicitor’s in the garden shed.”

“I was under the impression you didn’t approve of tampering with memories.”

“I’m starting to see that some things aren’t quite as black and white as I thought they were.”

“Well, I am more than willing to remove all memories of magic from the solicitor’s mind. It is, after all, in all of our best interests.” Primrose studied the main house up ahead, her eyes tracing the graceful, rustic lines. “Where are these young witches you speak of?”

“They’re inside. Out of curiosity,” Mika went on, “could you re-create these wards if you had to?”

“Not by myself. I could approximate something close, perhaps.” Primrose pursed her lips as if it pained her to admit she couldn’t do something. “My sister was the one with the talent for protective enchantments. You could have probably benefited from her help, were she still alive. Why do you ask? Where’s the witch who cast these wards?”

“Well, the thing is, Lillian’s dead.” Mika grimaced, and failed to notice the way Primrose jerked to a stop like she’d been electrocuted. “There’s a lot I’ll need to explain that I didn’t get into on the phone. These wards will break in the spring. She cast them every year while she was alive.”

“Mika,” Primrose said urgently, and there was a look on her face that Mika had never seen before. “What did you just say?”

But before Mika could answer her or ask what had made her look suddenly like she might faint, they were interrupted by the sound of the house’s front door opening. There was no sign of the children, but Jamie, Ian, Ken, and Lucie came out of the house in a rush, their eyes on Primrose, their faces every bit as ashen as hers.

Mika was bewildered. “What in the—”

And then, a croak from Ian: “Lillian?”

Lillian?

Primrose had gone completely still. “You knew Lillian.”

“You knew Lillian?” Mika demanded.

“You’re not Lillian?” Jamie asked.

“Why would she be Lillian?” Mika wanted to know. “How could I possibly have gone to fetch Primrose and come back with Lillian?”

“This is Primrose?” Lucie asked, wide-eyed.

Christ on a bike, this was downright farcical. What the hell was going on? Why would anyone think—

Mika sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, God.”

Everyone stood frozen as the penny dropped, as the outrageous unfairness of this new reality hit them one by one.

“You told me Lillian’s sister’s name was Peony!” Mika protested.

“Peony?” Primrose whipped back around to face her. “My name was Peony.”

Mika was aghast. How had this happened? How had she called Primrose for help, only to summon the one person besides Edward they absolutely did not want to find out about Lillian’s death?