The dog pulled Katrina toward the opening. Somewhere inside was a light like a smoldering ember. In one angry motion, the dog whipped its head and tossed her into the void. The last thing I saw before Katrina disappeared were her wild, terrified eyes.

The woman picked up the vial of Living Elixir and walked over to where Karter lay. She crouched over him. “Leave this place and never return.”

Karter stumbled to his feet. Limping toward the door, he glanced at me. The giant dog growled angrily and Karter rushed out of the apothecary.

The tall woman rose and came toward me. Mo scooted back, dragging my mom with her, but I stood and faced her. She reached out and cupped my face in her hands. Her skin was cool and smooth to the touch. She smelled like fire.

A strange feeling swept over me. It was like I knew her. My deep fear was tempered with a deep sense of understanding. “Please. My mom, she’s—she’s hurt.”

“She’s dead,” the woman said.

Grief washed over me again. The woman wiped away my tears with the sleeve of her cloak. “Death is only painful for the living.” Her gaze moved over my face. She traced my jawline. Her hand, from palm to fingertips, was longer than my entire face. Her shoulders were inhumanly broad, and she was taller than me while kneeling. I stared at the woman whose appearance seemed to shift as we stood in the shadows.

Her face grew softer, her eyes more luminescent. “Do you know me?”

“I—I don’t know,” I stammered. I didn’t, but I felt like I should.

“You all look so much alike, the members of this ancient family. My family.”

I blinked. This wasn’t Medea if the portraits that hung around the house were accurate, but she did look a bit like her. The women were connected somehow . . .

It suddenly dawned on me that I knew exactly who she was.

“Hecate.”

Her eyes turned to liquid gold in the darkness. She nodded gently.

“But Medea—the stories—she was your devotee.”

“My daughter,” she corrected. “And Absyrtus, my son.”

My heart raced as the revelation seeped into my brain. This family wasn’t just made up of people who were devoted to a goddess. They were a part of her, as Medea and her brother Absyrtus were, as I was.

Hecate stood. “I will guide your mother on her journey to the underworld. She will be safe under my watch.” The vial of Living Elixir glinted in her hand.

“Can’t we use it? To bring her back?” I asked.

She shook her head. “To make life everlasting, there must still be life. Alone, it is not enough to bring the dead back. But . . .” She trailed off.

“But what? Please. I’ll do anything. Please help me. Help her.”