"Oh, he is an odd one," Olivia said, clucking. "I feel so sorry for his father. Mr. Cortez is handling the situation remarkably well, though I must say, he lets the boy get away with far too much. All parents do, don't they? A Cabal leader is no different from any father. You'll see that, Savannah. Mr. Nast dotes on his boys and I'm sure he'll treat you just the same."

"As for Lucas Cortez," Greta said, "young men are always looking for dragons to slay. And pretty damsels to rescue." She slid a smile my way. "It's only a stage. Soon he'll come to see that Cabals aren't the monsters he thinks they are."

"What are they?" Savannah asked. "I mean, what are they really like?"

"Excellent employers," Greta said. "Everything an employee could ask for. They offer comprehensive benefits, stock options, a solid pension plan, and excellent remuneration."

Olivia laughed. "None of which interests you in the least, does it, Savannah? And with good reason. You won't ever need to worry about those things. Your biggest concerns now will be whether you want to spend your summer vacation in France or Italy."

"And what kind of sports car you want for your sixteenth birthday," Greta added.

"I want a Porsche," Savannah said, turning to me with a grin. "A Porsche convertible, like Clay's. Only red. I want it in red."

"You'll get it," Greta said. "This will be a whole new life for you, Savannah. A life any girl, and any witch, would envy."

Chapter 43

BEFORE DINNER, GRETA AND OLIVIA DECIDED TO SQUEEZE in Savannah's first lesson. They took us outdoors to a grove of forest beyond an unused barn. Leah and Friesen came along, presumably to guard Savannah from any external threat, but more likely to guard against any joint escape plan I might hatch. They needn't have bothered. As long as Savannah wanted to stay, I was staying right beside her.

Greta started with witch magic, but it was clear her heart wasn't in it and, as soon as she'd ascertained that Savannah already knew the basics, she moved on.

"Now, we're going to show you some sorcery," Greta said. "Of course, you'll have a better tutor for this later, but I thought you might like to see a sampling of what you'll learn. When we get back to Los Angeles, we can work more on your witch skills."

Olivia grinned. "For now we'll have some fun."

Over the next hour, Greta and Olivia demonstrated a half-dozen spells. One was a variation on Cortez's fog spell. Another shot a bolt of electrical energy from the caster's hand. A third conjured colored lights. Obviously they were showing off, selecting spells that were little more than the magical equivalent of Fourth of July fireworks. Dime-store magic, as Cortez would say. I wanted to turn up my nose at it, but the truth was, I was impressed.

As they cast, I couldn't help thinking of all the possible uses for their spells. The fog spell would be handy for escapes, particularly in conjunction with the cover spell. The electrical bolt seemed an excellent variation on the fireball spell, something else to add to my repertoire of nonlethal defense. I wanted to find fault, to find evil, but I couldn't. There was nothing wrong with this magic. Although it wasn't any better than the magic in the tertiary witch grimoires, it wasn't any worse, either-at least, not in the sense of being any less moral.

"Could you cast that fog spell again?" I asked.

Greta smiled. "You like that one?"

"It's interesting. It contains components of wind and fire elemental witch spells, but the construction is much different. The invocation to Boreas is particularly unique. I suppose that's a leftover vestige of its origin."

Greta and Olivia stared at me as if I was speaking Greek, which, in a way, I was, since the spell itself was in Greek. After a moment of silence, Olivia laughed.

"To tell the truth, Paige, we have no idea what it says. We've never translated it."

"You don't know Greek?" Savannah said. "I thought all witches had to know Greek. And Latin and Hebrew. Enough to understand the spells, at least."

"We don't bother with that," Olivia said. "I know some Latin from my school days, but it's not important. The grimoires tell you what the spells do, and your tutors will explain the pronunciation."

"Would you like to try a casting?" Greta asked Savannah.

"Sure."

"Which one?"

Savannah grinned at me. "All of them. Teach us all of them."

That evening Nast hosted a formal dinner party for Savannah. Savannah received her first little black dress, which was about two sizes too small in length and two sizes too big in width, but she was too excited to notice. She also received her first pair of heels and her first makeover, as Greta and Olivia fussed and primped her into a "little princess." Only Nast and Sandford joined us for dinner, both in tuxes. I didn't recognize half of what late.

Afterward, Nast presented Savannah with a family crest ring. Then he gave me an amulet, a gesture that clearly pleased Savannah, which was, I'm sure, the intent. It was a pretty piece, but nonmagical, probably something he'd grabbed at an antique jewelry store this afternoon in Boston.

Next everyone else in the house, from Sandford to the witches to the half-demon guards to the shaman cook, filed through with gifts. Once, in a museum, I saw a mural depicting an ancient pharaoh sitting in his throne as a parade of foreign dignitaries presented him with exotic offerings. That's what this looked like. And, like any normal thirteen-year-old girl, Savannah lapped it up.

After dinner, we retired to our room. It was only eight-thirty, but we couldn't keep our eyes open.

"Did you see what Greta gave me?" She pulled an amethyst-encrusted silver ritual dagger from the pile by her bed. "A new athame. Isn't it great? I bet it was expensive."

"Very."

"Can I see the amulet Kristof gave you?"

Nast had asked Savannah to call him by his given name, until she felt ready for something more indicative of their relationship. A wise move, I had to admit.

I passed Savannah the necklace.

"Cool. Bet it's an antique."

"I'm sure it is."

"It was nice of him, don't you think? To get you something?"

I nodded.

Savannah yawned and stretched back on the bed. "I'm so tired." She lifted her head to look at me. "Do you think they put something in our cocoa?"

I wanted to shout, "Yes! Don't you see? Don't you see everything? The gifts, the party, it's all a sham." Yet the truth was that I wasn't so sure of that myself. Yes, it was over the top. And patently unfair, since I could never compete. But was it a sham? I didn't know, so I settled for answering Savannah's question as honestly as I could.

"I think they probably gave us something to help us sleep," I said. "It doesn't feel any stronger than a sleeping potion. Probably valerian root, judging by the aftertaste."

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to bed. Greta said she has a surprise for me tomorrow. A really good surprise."

"I'm sure she does," I said.

Someone knocked at the door. When I called a welcome, Olivia popped her head in.

"Paige? Mr. Nast would like to speak to you."

Savannah moaned. "Can't it wait until morning? I'm so tired."

"He only wants to speak to Paige, dear. I'll stay and keep you company while she's gone."

Savannah sat up. "I want to go with Paige."

Olivia shook her head. "Your father was very clear. Paige only."

"But-"

"I'll be fine," I said.

"Of course she will," Olivia said. "Nothing's going to happen to her, Savannah. Your father understands how much you've come to rely on her." She turned to me. "Mr. Nast is in the living room."