"Uh-huh."

"This position provides me with some stature in the Cabal world and, though I'm loath to take advantage of that association, in some cases it is beneficial, allowing me to initiate activities the Cabals would not permit, were I not who I am."

"Uh-huh." A headache was forming behind my eyes.

"I've decided that the best use of my position, a position I neither want nor encourage, is to use it to counteract some of my race's worst abuses of power. Clearly, taking a young witch away from the Coven and placing her into the hands of a Cabal is such an abuse. Upon learning of Kristof Nast's initiative, I followed Leah and Gabriel and waited for an opportune time to introduce my services."

"Uh-huh. Let me get this straight. Having abandoned the family fortunes, you now use your power to help supernaturals. Like the Caped Crusader… in permanent Clark Kent disguise."

I would have sworn he smiled. His lips twitched, at least. "The Caped Crusader is Batman, whose alter ego would be Bruce Wayne. Clark Kent is Superman. Neither analogy, I'm afraid, is quite accurate. I lack the tormented brooding sexiness of the Dark Knight and, sadly, I've not yet learned to fly, though I did manage to sail a few yards when Leah threw me this afternoon."

I couldn't resist a small laugh. "Okay, but seriously. You know how this whole 'Rebel with a Cause' routine sounds?"

"Unlikely, I know."

"Try crazy. Insane. Preposterous."

"I haven't heard those particular adjectives before, doubtless only because no one dares say them to my face." He pushed aside his untouched burger. "Before you dismiss my story completely, please speak to Robert Vasic. I am confident that he will have sources who can vouch for my sincerity."

"I hope so."

"I can help you, Paige. I know the Cabals, know them more intimately than anyone you could hope-or would want-to meet. I can operate within that world with little fear of reprisals. As Savannah saw today, the Nasts don't dare touch me. That can be very useful."

"But why? Why go through all this to save a stranger?"

He glanced over at Savannah. "Preposterous, as you said. I can't imagine anyone doing such a thing."

I tore a crispy fry tip off, stared at it, then tossed it onto the grass. A crow tottered over for a closer look, then fixed me with a cold, black eye, as if to ask whether it was safe to eat.

"You still lied," I said. "About Leah."

"Yes, and, as you've said, I'm very good at it. For a Cortez, it's a skill we learn as other boys are learning to swing a baseball bat. For me, lying is a survival reflex. Placed in a situation where truth-telling may be risky, I often lie before I even make a conscious decision to do so. All I can say in my defense now is that I will make every effort not to do so again."

"You do, and that's it. I've got serious trust issues with this arrangement already, aligning myself with a sorcerer."

"Perfectly understandable."

"And I am going to speak to Robert first. I need to do that, for my own peace of mind."

"Again, understandable. You expect him back soon, I hope."

"He's probably already called the house, trying to find me."

"Good. Then I will accompany you home, you can go in and return his call, then we'll come up with a plan of action."

"What about your bike?"

"I'll retrieve it later. Right now, getting this situation straightened out is my first priority."

Chapter 21

AS I ROUNDED THE SECOND-LAST CORNER TO MY STREET, Cortez turned sideways in his seat, so he could see both me and Savannah.

"Now, as I said, it is possible that some members of the media may have established themselves in the vicinity. You must be prepared. Perhaps we should go over the plan again. The most important thing to remember is-"

"No comment, no comment, no comment," I said, with Savannah chiming in.

"You're quick studies."

"Keep the script simple and even us witches can learn it."

"I'm very impressed. Now, when we get out of the car, stick close to me-"

Savannah leaned over the seat. "And you'll protect us with lightning bolts and hail and hellfire."

"I cannot protect you at all if Paige hits the brake and you go flying through the windshield. Put on your seat belt, Savannah."

"It is on."

"Then tighten it."

She slipped back into her seat. "God, you're as bad as Paige."

"As I was saying," Cortez said. "Our primary objective is to-Oh."

With that one word, my breath caught. A simple word, not even a word really, a mere sound, an exclamation of surprise. But for Cortez to be surprised, worse yet, for him to stop in the middle of explaining one of his grand plans to make such an exclamation-well, it boded no good.

I'd just rounded the corner onto my street. A quarter mile ahead was my house. Or so I assumed. I couldn't be sure because both sides of the street were lined with cars, trucks, and vans, crammed into every available space, some even double-parked. As for my house, I couldn't see it, not because of the cars, but because of the crowd of people spilling over the lawn, onto the sidewalk and across the road.

"Pull in the next driveway," Cortez said.

"I can't park here," I said, taking my foot off the accelerator. "I'm sure my neighbors are pissed off enough already."

"You're not parking. You're turning around."

"You want me to run?"

"For now, yes."

I gripped the steering wheel. "I can't do that."

I kept my face forward, but I could sense his gaze on me.

"Getting into your house won't be easy, Paige," he said, his voice softer. "This type of situation… it doesn't bring out the best in people. No one would blame you for turning around."

I looked through the rearview mirror at Savannah.

"Paige is right," she said. "If we back down now, Leah will know we're spooked."

"All right, then," Cortez said. "Pull in wherever you see an opening."

As I scouted for a parking space, nobody spoke. My eyes traveled from group to group. To the national news crews sipping coffee from the Belham Starbucks. To the scattered clusters of people with camcorders and curious eyes. To the state police arguing with five bald people in white robes. To the men, women, and children pacing the sidewalk, carrying signs condemning my soul to damnation.

Strangers. All strangers. I scanned the crowd and saw not a local newsperson, not a village cop, not a single familiar face. Up and down the street every door was closed, every curtain drawn. Everyone willing to shut out the June sun and cool breezes if it meant they could also shut out whatever was happening at 32 Walnut Lane. Shut it out and wait for it to go away. Wait for us to go away.

"When Paige stops the car, get out immediately," Cortez said. "Undo your seat belt now and be ready. Once you're out, keep moving, don't even pause to look around. Paige, take Savannah's hand and head to the front of the car. I'll meet you there and clear a path."

When we'd turned the corner, a few people had looked over, not as many as you might expect, considering they were waiting for a stranger to arrive, but maybe they'd been there so long, seen so many strangers drive by, that they'd stopped jumping every time a new car appeared.

When the car slowed, more glanced our way. I saw their faces then. Bored, impatient, almost angry, as if ready to snap at the next rubbernecker who falsely aroused their expectations. Then they saw me. A shout. Another. A ripple of movement, escalating to a stream, then a wave.

I turned the wheel to wedge in sideways behind a news van. For a second, I saw nothing but the call letters of a TV station in Providence. Then a rush of people swallowed the van. Strangers jostled against the car, rocking it.