“No,” I whispered again, hoarsely. “This isn’t—shamanism isn’t about death. It’s life. It’s change. It’s—” I tightened my hands around her wrists, hard enough that I could feel the bones grind. My palm hurt so badly it made me want to vomit, but the pain was something to focus on besides not being able to see. “This isn’t even witchcraft.” I could taste the desperation and fear in my own gasped words. “Even I know that. Witchcraft isn’t evil, and this—this is! Judy, there’s some kind of mistake, this is evil, this is wrong!”

“No,” she said again, shaking her head. My blood went icy as I felt the motion. As though I saw a ghost of the vigorous movement. Shivers split my belly and ran down my arms, making me want to cry. I held on to her wrists more tightly. I thought I might break them from the pressure, but she didn’t complain. “It’s sacrifice,” she whispered. “You understood that, Joanne. What did the spirit animals tell you?”

“Heed,” I croaked. “Heed my—my teacher. Accept. Study.” The light that had teased me with Judy’s movements had been false; blackness swept over me again, enveloping me in soft, frightening comfort.

“Yes.” I felt her nod. Then she caressed my cheek, brushing her knuckles over the thin scar. “I’m your teacher, Joanne. You’ve come so far. You’ve learned so much in just a few days. Won’t you honor what you’ve been taught?”

My heart fluttered like a dying bird, a rapid tattoo against my ribs that sent sickness through me again in waves. “I’ve tried.” My voice was weak and tired. “I’m trying, Judy, but—”

“There are no buts!” Her voice rang out strong over mine, suddenly filled with anger. “Joanne, there are no buts. You must accept.”

I closed my eyes, as if it could somehow diminish the darkness that ate away at me. “Why do you call me that?” I asked. No, I whimpered. I had neither pride nor shame left, just the blackness encroaching on my soul.

And I felt her smile, a gentle amused thing as she touched my cheek again. “Because it’s your name, of course. What else would I call you?”

I opened my eyes again, slowly, to no glimmer of light. “But it’s not my name,” I whispered. Jesus, Joanne. I knelt there, staring blindly at my teacher. And I’d thought the coven was slow on the uptake when they didn’t chase the serpent out into the garden after me and Colin. They had nothing on me.

I felt Judy’s surprise and bewilderment, rolling off her like cool fog. I remembered fog in the North Carolina hills being like that, silent and motionless until I held still myself. Then it had life, soft edges that swept around me and made me a part of it. Judy’s startlement tried to draw me in, but it failed. I had found a line, and suddenly, embarrassingly, it seemed ridiculously obvious. “Joanne,” I whispered. “It’s not my name. And you know what?”

“Of course it’s your name.” Her voice turned sharp, and beneath the sharpness rode fear. “Don’t be absurd.”

I straightened my shoulders, my hands still tight around her wrists. “No,” I said, more strength in my words now. “No, it isn’t my name, and the thing is, Judy, so far all the good guys have known that. It’s just the bad guys I learned to protect it from.” My very first concept of shielding came back to me, dark-tinted car windows rolled up tight and safe around the center of my being, around the name that Coyote, both Big and Little, had known from the start. The name that the shamans had pulled from me easily. The name I’d protected from the banshee Blade, and the name that I’d protected, without understanding or realizing why, from my teacher. Heme and Cernunnos had learned it, but I’d been an utter neophyte then.

“Your name is Joanne Walker!”

“No. It isn’t. And I can’t accept this.” My voice grew stronger, more confident. “This is wrong, Judy. Sacrifices should be willing, if they have to be made, and this is—this is blood sacrifice, this is ritual sacrifice. This is sorcery, Judy! It’s wrong, and I won’t do it.”

“Your name is Joanne Walker, and I command you by it!”

I surged to my feet, dragging Judy with me. “My name,” I roared back, “is Siobhàn Walkingstick, and you have no power over me!”

Darkness ripped away, streamers of light bursting through my vision and tattering the shadows. Pinpoints of brilliance sparked into the back of my eyes, burning along the optical nerve and bringing understanding with them. At first all I could see was Judy, caught in my grip, furious and frightened all at once. Her eyes were hard and black, eyes I’d seen a dozen times in different places without recognizing what I saw. “I know you,” I whispered. A grin was pulling at my mouth, distorting it with wicked triumph. “Give me your name.”

“No!” Tears of fury filled her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joa—Si—”

I tightened my grip, bearing down. Judy’s cheeks went white and her knees buckled. I brought her all the way to her knees, using my weight above her. “Your charades aren’t going to work anymore. I know you,” I repeated. “The eyes have it, isn’t that what they always say? But I didn’t see until now. Bright black eyes. Just like the spirit animals. Were they real, Virissong? Or were they your creations?” God, what a sucker I’d been! “They were yours,” I added. “The eyes, all the bright eyes. Even the snake I brought Colin. Give me your name, Virissong! I want the truth!” My anger was more for myself than my so-called teacher, but for the moment I needed it. Even an instant of doubt would undo me, especially now that I’d thrown my name at the thing that had invaded my garden. Judy held on to silence almost long enough. I set my teeth together and shook her, yelling without words.

And her face split in an ugly grin. The corners of her mouth tore open wide and bloodless, stretching around her head. Pieces of her face fell away, dropping in fleshy chunks. It continued down her body, over her shoulders and breasts, exposing a new shape beneath them. Virissong’s passion-lit features appeared, mouth pulled wide in a sneer.

“You were so easy,” he whispered. His shoulders broadened, wrists thickening. I kept my grip, even as the power of his transformation made my palm scream in agony. I was afraid blood from it might spill onto him and bind me to him again, but my hold was so tight I imagined it bloodless, and in the garden of my mind, imagination trumped reality.

“I was.” I held on to anger and pushed embarrassment away. There’d be time to be humiliated later. Right now I’d screwed up so monumentally that I couldn’t afford to kick myself about it. “I was,” I repeated. “I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. And so did the coven. How did you do it, Virissong? How did you keep Faye’s power pure enough that it couldn’t be detected by the rest of the coven, while you corrupted her?”

He laughed, staccato sound that lifted the hairs on my arms. “Ask yourself, Walkingstick.” He hissed the name, searching for chinks in my armor. I only grinned down at him, rictus of forthright fury that made an impenetrable shield.

“You shouldn’t have involved Mel,” I whispered to him. “I would’ve gone all the way. I had faith.” Another bolt of light shattered through me, making me laugh breathlessly with anger. “Faith. That’s why our power wasn’t corrupted. We thought we were doing the right thing. Faye thought she was doing the right thing. God, what power faith brings you,” I whispered. My laughter disappeared and left me trembling with rage all over again. “I want your name!”

“Oh, no, Walkingstick. Not when I’m this close. It’s not going to be that easy.” Virissong set his teeth together in an openmouthed grin that bordered on a snarl. Power surged through him, hot and volatile as electricity. I clamped down on his wrists, struggling to hold him as my hands burned. He got one foot under himself, then the other. I shoved forward, trying to knock him off balance, but he stayed in his crouch, then shoved to his feet, stronger than I was. I thought, inexplicably, of Morrison. Strength shot through me and I squeezed Virissong’s wrists harder, trying to bring him to his knees again.