Of the twelve Amazon totems, the serpent was the one I trusted the least.

I bit back a hiss of my own.

In a different circumstance I might have tried to battle my way past the serpent, cut through the ward with brute force, but my grandmother wove this spell. The odds I could shove my way past it were slim, and with her sleeping only two stories above me, I’d have zero chance for escape.

I didn’t want to battle my grandmother’s magic tonight, but I wanted to battle her even less.

I really had no choice. If you can’t kill the serpent outright, you either let it devour you, or you play mongoose-charm it.

I settled onto my heels and forced away all thoughts of how what I was about to do would look, how idiotic I would look weaving back and forth making eye contact with a serpent no one but me could see. And how likely it was that I’d goof the whole thing, set off the ward, and bring my grandmother and whatever host of surprises she had waiting behind the door down on my head.

Then I stared the serpent in the eyes and let my body begin to shift side to side. As I did, I made up my own chant and tried to channel every meerkat I’d seen perform the dance, compliments of Animal Planet.

Spells compliments of cable. Definitely something my grandmother wouldn’t plan a defense against-or so I hoped.

The serpent’s slitted gaze held mine. A shiver danced over my skin, but I kept up the movement, continued my chant encouraging the snake to give up his vigil, slither off to a dark corner of my basement and snack on a mouse.

My back began to ache and my mouth to dry. The snake didn’t waver.

I heard a noise outside, a rattle. I ignored it, just like I ignored the now relentless need to blink, to drop my gaze. I’d never tried to outstare a snake before. In retrospect, a stupid thing to try with a creature that couldn’t blink.

As my mind whirled, grasping for another solution, the snake suddenly lifted his head and opened his mouth wide, revealing fangs and a chasm of a throat that seemed to grow and grow until I was sure I’d figured out my grandmother’s plan-for the ward to gulp me down whole. He loomed large above me, cutting off all light, until all I could see was his open mouth about to snap down on top of me, swallow me like he thought I was the promised field mouse. I raised my hands, forced my lips to move to sputter out a spell for a shield-weak and ineffectual as I knew it would be. I hadn’t been prepared, hadn’t realized how much unwinding Bubbe’s ward would take out of me. Then, just as I thought his jaws were about to slip over my head and down my body, the snake snapped his mouth shut and slithered off the door.

My hands were shaking and a cold sweat covered my body. I could feel the snake undulating between my feet as he went in search of some prey. How I’d get him back on the door, spiraled precisely as my grandmother had left him, I had no idea.

A small problem I hadn’t considered before taking on her ward. But I couldn’t undo what was done. Might as well move on with my plan. I waited for the sensation of the snake’s weight traveling past my ankle to cease, then moved forward.

My hand was on the knob when I heard the second rattle. I glanced at my watch. One A.M. Dead girl delivery time.

My shoulders squared at the morose thought, but I twisted toward the door that led outside anyway. Maybe I didn’t need to call on Artemis tonight. Maybe she’d delivered the killer to me.

I grabbed one of Mother’s training staffs-a six-foot-long pole of hardwood, and headed outside. I left behind whatever other traps Bubbe had laid in her office, and moved toward something that might prove to be even more horrifying.

It was lighter tonight. The full moon was almost upon us. I could see the outline of the banister that surrounded the basement stairwell. Running perpendicular to the steps was a sidewalk. On the other side of it was the old clapboard cafeteria and gym.

I could hear footsteps now, light and pacing back and forth, like someone was waiting for someone or something.

Me?

Only one way to find out. I crept to the top of the steps and peered out. A figure, six feet or so and female, stood with her back to me. In her hand was a staff much like the one I carried.

An Amazon. A blonde, not my mother and certainly not Bubbe or Harmony.

Adrenaline pumped through me. I leapt onto the sidewalk, bent to the side, and swung the staff, aiming it at the Amazon encroacher’s head.

She spun, her staff meeting mine, and for the space of two heartbeats I stared directly into her golden eyes. It was too dark to see their color, but I knew it, knew the face. Zery. My once best friend. The Amazon Queen. The queen who stood by her tribe instead of me.

She must have seen the shock on my face. There was no way for me to hide it. No matter how angry I was with her for supporting my son’s killer over me, I would never have believed her capable of killing an innocent Amazon girl.

“Why?” I murmured.

“Were you expecting me?” she asked at the same time, then laughed. Not the rippling, happy sound I remembered, but a hard, cold noise that curled inside me, made me want to strike out, knock some of my frustration with her betrayal out of my system for good.

We were at a standoff. Each pushing against her staff with all her strength, mine increased by my ten-year-old anger. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have stood two seconds against her, never mind the minutes that seemed to have ticked by.

“Been keeping in shape, Mel? What else have you been doing?” Her foot moved toward my knee. An old trick-one I used to use on her, when tricks were my only defense against her superior strength.

I hopped to the side, managing to keep my staff up and shoved against hers as I did. But my advantage of surprise and personal rage was lost; I could feel her pushing forward, knew she’d soon have the upper hand. My body angled awkwardly. A muscle in my back screamed. The grain of the wooden staff dug into the skin on my unconditioned palms and fingers. Mother could have held onto that staff for hours, her callused hands never tiring. And Zery could too. Not that she would have to; depending solely on warrior skills, I’d fall before Zery even got winded.

A memory of the snake jumping from the door, slithering off, gave me strength. I had other skills to call on.

Not wanting Zery to realize what I was doing, I mumbled under my breath, called on Artemis to calm me while I searched for a plan. I was drained from battling Bubbe’s serpent, and even if I weren’t, I didn’t know whether my powers were developed enough to conjure something truly impressive. Better to go for something small, something I could explain away if needed-perform and still keep the true range of my powers hidden.

Ten feet behind Zery, shoved between the sidewalk and the main brick building, was an ancient oak. The thing was a hazard-its roots cracking the concrete walkway, its branches stretching from the windows of my office to Harmony’s bedroom, scratching against glass and brick. Only a few weeks earlier a late summer storm had hit the tree hard. The winds had broken several smaller limbs and cracked one particularly large one. I’d been meaning to call a tree guy, have him finish the job the storm started before another wind came along and brought two hundred pounds of oak branch down on someone’s head.

Now I was glad I hadn’t.