“Is she safe?” Tanya asked urgently, while her wife couldn’t hear the question or its answer.

“Yes,” Anna told her. Leah had had a child and survived, after all. And they were pretty sure that Mercy’s conception was similar to what the Singer was trying to do with Sissy and the witches. Mercy’s mother was still alive. But all they really had were educated guesses, and Anna didn’t know what the Singer planned on doing with the mothers of its children. And “safe” meant more than survival.

She tempered her initial answer. “I think so, anyway. We’ll try to find out—we are still learning about this creature, too. But I think anything else I have to say should wait until Sissy is able to listen.”

“While we are waiting for her to revisit her breakfast and lunch—and possibly anything she has eaten this year—there’s something you should have.” Tanya got up and went to the little kitchen, coming back with a couple of sheets of lined paper filled with graceful, rounded letters.

“Sissy’s brother had the code key,” Tanya said. “She translated it last night. I’m not sure I’d have believed you about”—she nodded upward to indicate Sissy, her eyes worried—“if I hadn’t read this letter first.”

THE FEEL OF Carrie Green’s spell casting and the weight of the grimoires had dissipated from the storage unit when Charles and Tag opened it again.

Charles nodded at Tag’s raised eyebrows.

The whole unit was ten by thirty, a little larger than a single-car garage. Originally it had been packed in a dense but tidy fashion.

“What a mess,” said Tag, looking at the room that had been a miracle of organization before the two of them had happened to it yesterday.

They had not worried about being either tidy or organized when they had moved boxes, furniture, and bins until they’d gotten to the grimoires yesterday. Then, wanting to get the books somewhere safe, they’d shoved everything back in with more haste than order. There was a pile of loose stuff, towels and clothing mostly, near the door where they had emptied boxes and bags to carry the grimoires in.

“How do you want to do this?” Tag asked.

“Can you find magic that a witch has tried to hide?” Charles asked. He had hunted with Tag before—Tag was very nearly the best tracker in the pack. But Charles hadn’t had the opportunity to look for magic with him. Da didn’t let Tag off pack land very often. And very few witches made it onto pack land.

Tag smiled. “My specialty.” He tapped his nose. “What are we looking for?”

“I can make guesses about spellcrafted things, but I’m not a trained witch,” Charles said. “I don’t want to leave anything that could hurt someone.”