In the kitchen doorway, the witch stopped, hands on the frame, blocking Nick's path. But he could see over her head: Gus had Maksim in a headlock, her chin pressed into his hair. Her back was to them. Nick could hear the low thread of her voice growling incoherent words.

"I'm Nick Kaisaris," he said to the witch, tapping her on the shoulder.

"Lissa Nevsky," the witch said, without turning.

"Can you fix him?"

She shook her head and shrugged. "I'm doing what I can."

Maksim and Gus both lifted their heads at that, turning. Gus's eyes looked feral, bloodshot, pupils nearly eclipsing the blue; Maksim's only looked human and very tired.

"Please," Maksim said, in his low rasp, and Gus went slack, dropped her arms from about his head, and slouched against the witch's kitchen table.

"I don't like it," she said, almost plaintive.

"I know," said Maksim. "Please."

"You aren't yourself."

"I cannot go on this way," Maksim said, spreading his hands, showing the raw flesh where he'd met the road.

Gus made a low, unhappy noise, b.u.t.ted her head against his, and began to lick the dried blood from his face.

In front of Nick, the witch put her hand over her mouth.

"I kind of want to do that too," Nick said. "Weird."

"Is that ... sanitary?" the witch asked.

"I guess they can't catch anything they haven't already got," Nick said, watching Maksim shut his eyes and lean into Gus. "Wow. It's like they can't even hear us."

Nick ducked under the witch's arm. The blood scent was stronger with every step. After a moment, he realized he'd come closer and closer and was kneeling there with them and was putting out his hand to touch Maksim's injuries and was bringing his fingertips to his tongue.

He tasted family. He knew now what it was that made a dog want to roll in its master's soiled clothes. He put his head down to press into Maksim's hand, and although the hand was swollen and stiff, the fingers coiled into Nick's hair and held tight.

And Nick thanked G.o.d that Gus had made him drink the whiskey, because he thought that was what made it possible to watch himself do these things without going completely bats.h.i.t insane and even to wonder, with some excitement, what might come next.

Halfway through that thought, Nick smelled lilacs and heard footsteps in the hall and looked up to see the most adorable girl standing in the doorway. She was wearing tiny shorts and flip-flops and a Kawasaki-green halter top, and a fine gold chain slid over the arc of her breastbone, and Nick imagined how good she'd taste if he could put his mouth right there ...

... and that made him remember that his mouth was currently pressed to the forearm of the man who'd seriously f.u.c.ked up Nick's life and that maybe Nick wasn't going to make a great first impression.

Nick stood up and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and said, "Sorry." He couldn't think of what else to add-Sorry I'm doing unspeakable things with another dude in your kitchen?-and he just laughed a little, nervously.

The new girl turned to the witch and said, "Well. Now I can see why you haven't wanted to introduce me to your friends."

English. She was English. Too awesome.

"That's Nick, and that's Gus," Lissa said, pointing. "Don't offer to shake, Nick. That's disgusting. This is my sister, Stella, who you are not going to mess with."

"Wow," said Nick to Lissa. "It's like you can read my mind." And then he remembered that she was supposed to be a witch, and maybe she really could read his mind, and the humor fell right out of him.

Lissa's eyes held his as she said, "Nick and Gus just came to take Maksim back to his place, because he's had a bit of an accident. They were just leaving."

And d.a.m.n it, she was a real witch, because in about five seconds flat, Nick found himself on the porch of her house, with Maksim propped up between himself and Gus, and the door shutting firmly behind them.

MAY 26.

WANING GIBBOUS.

Stella waited, arms crossed, while Lissa shut the door and washed her hands and poured a gla.s.s of water.

"I had an idea," Stella said, just when Lissa thought she might not speak. "A bit of a crazy idea, but you know, I'm open-minded. I could sort of maybe believe there are things in the world that are stranger than philosophy-or whatever it was from Shakespeare; I think I mangled it. And you know what? My crazy idea? It wasn't even half as weird as seeing these people drinking each other's blood in your kitchen."

"I didn't know they did that," Lissa managed.

"What, you never read Dracula? Oh, wait, I guess they're not vampires because of the part where they didn't burst into flames when they walked out the door-but seriously, you can't pa.s.s off the Russian Mafia thing on me anymore, because I know for a fact that being in the Russian Mafia does not make people drink blood."

"I really didn't know," Lissa said. "Honest to G.o.d. Baba told me Maksim was kin, and at first, I thought she meant he was related to us somehow."

"Wait a second. I have a vampire stepfamily?"

"That's not what I said-"

"To go with my witch stepsister. I guess it all makes sense now."

"Wait. How did you know?"

"Do you think I'm completely daft?" Stella cried. "You have an entire b.l.o.o.d.y library of magic books. Just because I can't read Russian-there are, like, pentacles and things all over them, for Christ's sake. I mean, I didn't think it actually worked. I thought maybe you were one of those people who believe in crystals and all that too, but clearly, if there are vampires-"

"They're not vampires." Lissa set her gla.s.s down roughly enough to spill cool water over her hand. "I don't think. They're people. Really old, violent, scary people."

"Nick doesn't look very old."

"He's not. He's brand new. Maksim just infected him, or whatever you call it."

"Whoa," Stella said. "That must be a mindf.u.c.k."

"Yeah. Wait. Stop. You do not go there. He is not your new fantasy boyfriend."

"What? Come on, Lissa, I just met him! I only meant he doesn't look as scary as all that, not like the other two."

"Well, he is."

"I didn't see you hiding under the table while these scary people were making out in your kitchen."

"They were not making out."

"Whatever. You've been having them over for breakfast. All the time when I'm not around. Don't you think I notice how many eggs this house goes through? Who knew vampires liked omelets?"

"They're not vampires," Lissa said again, weakly.

"If they're so b.l.o.o.d.y dangerous, explain to me," Stella said. "Tell me what you're doing with them. Tell me the whole G.o.dd.a.m.ned story. Give me my two weeks' notice if you have to, just talk to me."

Lissa gulped in a breath that hurt her chest. "Okay. Okay. Hang on. I will ... I'll tell you. I just need..."

"A stiff drink," Stella decided. "A nice, strong G&T, and then we'll settle in to share the weirdest family secrets ever."

Eight.

MAY 26.

WANING GIBBOUS.

"Wow," said Stella. She squinted into the bottom of her gla.s.s. "I don't think there's enough gin in the world."

"You asked." Lissa shivered a little at a breath of cool from the window; night had fallen while they talked.

"I'll get my head around it," Stella said. "I mean, it's like everything else, right? You think the world is one way, and then you find out it's another way, and you have a few days where you have to keep reminding yourself that guy I thought I loved is actually a creepy stalker, and then it kind of integrates itself into your reality, and even if it sucks, you start moving forward."

"Does it?" Lissa said. "Suck, I mean?"

"The vampire stepfamily?" Stella looked startled. "I know, I know, not really family, not really vampires. But come on-of course it doesn't suck. It's like finding out there's really a Saint Nicholas."

"But there was really a Saint Nicholas. In history. Wasn't there?"

"Whatever. The point is, magic's real, and people can have superpowers."

"Superpowers they want to get rid of," Lissa reminded her.

"I meant you, idiot."

"Oh."

"And you're going to show me, right? How you do the magic?"

Lissa shut her eyes. She had already had her three questions of Baba for the month, and none of them had touched upon this.

Though she couldn't quite see how showing Stella the magic could make anything worse. That part was safe enough-came with rules and guidebooks. No. The things she really wanted to keep from Stella were already out there, and she had a dismal feeling that Stella wasn't taking them seriously.

"That shirt," she said, her mouth dry. "You'll have to change it for something that doesn't have ties or hooks. And your hair, leave it down. And turn off the lights upstairs on your way back. We'll work in the kitchen."

"Right now?" Stella asked, eyes huge.

"It's the second night after the full moon," Lissa said. "We have three days for our workings. That's the first rule."

"Oh my G.o.d. I'm going to learn the rules of magic. Look out, Hogwarts, here I come."

"What?"

"Don't you have Harry Potter in Canada? Never mind-it's a book. I'll lend you mine if I can get Mummy to mail it to me."

"Slow down," Lissa said, fighting laughter. "I promise you won't think it's very cool once you see it. It's like cooking, only even more boring."

Stella embraced her, squeezing tight. "It's going to be perfect." She ran for the stairs, almost skipping.

Lissa put their gla.s.ses in the sink, biting her lip on the fear that Baba was going to be furious.

But Baba was not here, and she had left this to Lissa, and Lissa would have to leave it to someone too, wouldn't she? And Stella liked it, liked her. Wasn't slamming the door like Dad had done.

"I'm ready," Stella said, sliding into the kitchen, barefoot and braless in a loose T-shirt. "What are we going to do?"

Lissa stood on the step stool to fetch down the grimoire she wanted. "A remedy," she said. "Most of it is stuff like this. This one's for Izabela Dmitreeva, who's one of our best customers."

"What kind of a remedy? Is she sick?"

"It's for fertility," Lissa said.

"Does it actually work?" Stella said.

If I get it right this time, Lissa didn't say. "It would probably work better if she and her husband didn't live with her husband's mother."

Once she and Stella had the giggles forced back down, they faced each other over the kitchen countertop and the array of grimoires and ingredients and a stack of egg cartons.

"So like I said, it's basically cooking," she said. "Only a bit weirder. Think of it like cooking Communion wafers or something."

"I'm Anglican," Stella said.