“Too bad the ‘tribe’ only has evening classes.” I glared at Pisto, daring her to disagree with my words. Her only response was a bored flutter of her eyelashes. I looked at my daughter, a have I got good news for you smile on my face. “I’ve already signed you up for classes after school. Your evenings are fully booked.”

“What?” I could see my daughter getting ready to dig in her heels, to scream about the injustice of being signed up for something without her full and prior approval. It didn’t stop me from sending her to gymnastics when she was five (something Mother had fully approved of), and it wasn’t going to stop me now. I shoved the pie box against Mother’s chest, trusting she wouldn’t let it fall to the ground, and looped my arm through my daughter’s. “Art class. A friend of Peter’s is teaching it.”

“Peter’s?” Rachel nudged Harmony in the side. I ignored the gesture. So what if Peter’s “friend” wasn’t exactly what they might be expecting. Far be it from me to shatter their hormone-ridden dreams.

Harmony quickly moved from objection to negotiation. “Can Rachel take it too? What kind of art will we be learning? Will I need any supplies?”

Once she mentioned shopping, even if it was for dry art supplies, I knew I had her.

I stopped to toss a smile back at Mother. She had lifted the aluminum foil cover Dana had placed over the pie and was staring as if the box contained a two-headed lizard. “It’s a pie,” she said.

“I know. I baked it for you. I was thinking some hearth-keeping skills might be a good thing for Harmony to learn too.”

The look on Mother’s face made my entire day worthwhile.

We had the pie for dessert after dinner. I ate well more than my share, just to enjoy the expression on Mother’s face every time I picked up the knife and sliced into the orange goodness. Bubbe seemed to be on to me, but Mother was as easy to provoke as a two-year-old who had missed her nap-at least when it came to hints of hearth-keeping. And honestly, I wasn’t just prodding her. Working with Dana had made me realize yet another part of life I’d missed out on. Being taught how to cook, clean, and take care of babies wouldn’t scar my daughter-it was one of Artemis’s aspects, after all, and key to survival.

No, Harmony learning a few skills wouldn’t be a bad idea. Me learning a few wouldn’t either. And there were plenty of classes available in Madison. When everything settled down, I just might see about enrolling us-a nice mother/daughter treat. Maybe I’d ask Mother if she wanted to join us.

All in all, I went to bed happy. I felt like I’d started fulfilling my promise to the dead teens. I’d gotten Harmony to agree to the art class. And I had a full-if somewhat bloated-belly. Life was as good as it could be with a gymnasium full of Amazons and a serial killer on the loose.

The last fact was where my mind went first when I woke at one A.M., but there had been no stone cast against my window. It was the dead girls. They were back.

I sat up this time, my sheet pulled around me, my back against the headboard. A nervous energy danced around the room, like the girls’ spirits wanted to tell me something but couldn’t figure out how to get the thoughts across.

After their last visit, I’d made a few preparations in case they returned. I pulled a bag of dirt and a candle from my bedside table’s drawer, along with the two totems I’d decided to keep. Not reinstating Bubbe’s serpent ward had told her I’d been snooping around her space. As soon as she made that discovery, I knew she’d immediately cataloged all her possessions and discovered they were missing. Why return them now?

I kneeled on the floor, then carefully dumped the dirt and formed it into one small compact pile. With the candle shoved into the middle and the two totems lying on the soil, I was ready.

The girls brushed around me, breaths cool, then hot, stirring the hair on the back of my neck, causing my worn T-shirt to flutter against my skin. They were agitated, even more than they had been on their last visit. The sadness I’d sensed then was still present, but pressed down by something heavier, darker…angrier…

Praying their movement wouldn’t make my job harder, I lit the candle with trembling fingers. The flame flickered but held.

If I’d known their givnomais, the process would have been easier. The combination of telios and givnomai was as unique as a fingerprint. No two living Amazons through history had shared the same matching combination. A priestess checked to assure this before she gave any girl her givnomai. This caused a lot of disappointment when a girl’s first choice was taken, but since the magic would be weakened if shared, they all got over it. They didn’t have a choice.

I could have drawn the givnomais in the dirt. It wouldn’t have given them their voices, nothing as dramatic as that, but it would have guaranteed no interference and no listening in-a private call versus talking on a party line.

But I hadn’t thought to ask while at the safe camp. Chances were, none there knew anyway. Because the combination was so personal, most Amazons kept their telioses hidden. A secret only their closest friends, relatives, and the artist who gave them the mark knew. I knew Mother’s, but not Bubbe’s. And I knew the fifty or so Amazons I’d tattooed before leaving the tribe. And I knew Zery’s. That was it.

The flutters changed to a flap, whispers to murmurs. I could almost make out a word. A hiss like a snake. The serpent from Bubbe’s ward? Were they warning me against it? Or against someone from the serpent clan?

Frustrated, I bent lower until my chin almost touched the candle’s flame. I placed a hand on each totem, willed my brain to understand what they were trying to say.

The smell of wax filled my lungs. A breath, strong, like a slap, hit me from the side. The candle went out.

Alone in the darkness, I heard it…“Zery…” and the girls were gone.

Chapter Twelve

I didn’t pause to think about what questions my bond with the dead girls might bring up. I didn’t pause to pull on pants or shoes. I didn’t pause for anything.

I leapt up and rushed from my room, ran straight down the fire escape. Once outside, I stared at the closed doors of my gymnasium. A few dozen Amazons slept inside. I couldn’t rush in, screaming for Zery. To do so would pretty much guarantee I wouldn’t leave with my head attached to my shoulders.

I took a breath, waited for my pounding heart to slow. I’d have to go in like a warrior: calm, controlled, and ready to fight whatever waited inside. I had my hand on the door handle when fingers wrapped around my upper arm.

“What are you doing?” Mother, fully dressed and armed for battle, squeezed my arm. Normally I would have flexed the muscle or pulled away, but honestly, I was just too darn glad to see her.

“Zery. Something’s happened to her.”

“How do you-?”

The expression on my face must have told her there wasn’t time to ask.

She pushed me behind her and knocked on the door with her staff, a fast but complicated rhythm that I had no hope of memorizing.

The door was flung open. An Amazon, wide awake and obviously on guard duty, slammed her staff across the opening, barring our entrance.

“We need to talk to Zery.” Mother had the art of body language down. Every inch of her said don’t question me.

The guard flicked her gaze from my intimidating parent to me, then twisted her lips to the side. “Not her.”

I moved forward, copying Mother’s stance as best I could, but it was hard to look intimidating in a stained UW Badger tee and no pants-or bra, for that matter. “Yes-”

Mother cut me off, with an elbow to my side. “We need to see Zery.” I couldn’t see her face, but I could tell by the other warrior’s that Mother’s expression had to be somewhere between pissed-off mother bear and starved lioness. The warrior stepped aside.