“All I know is it was somewhere in Hell’s Kitchen,” I said.

She tapped fuchsia nails against the counter. “Then you’re out of luck,” she told me. “There are hundreds of apartments in Hell’s Kitchen. I can’t be searching every building listing for the Bransons.”

“It’s Bramson and Riordan,” I corrected her, trying not to lose the few shreds of patience I had left. “Isn’t there some kind of quick computer search you can do?”

She glanced at her computer. “Program’s not set up that way.”

I glanced at the rows of ledgers behind her. There were dates on the spines. “Do you think I could look through the 1982 books?” I asked.

“Not without a note from my supervisor, and she’s on vacation for the next two weeks.” The woman gave me a malicious smile. “Why don’t you come back in February?” she suggested.

“I won’t be here in February,” I protested.

She started typing on the keyboard. I’d been dismissed.

I turned toward the door. Then I turned back again. If this woman wanted to play a power game, I decided angrily, I’d be happy to play, too. And I’d win. I hesitated only a moment, though I knew I was about to do something I wasn’t supposed to do. Well, city employees weren’t supposed to be totally unhelpful, either, I reasoned.

I licked my lips and glanced around. The only person still waiting on the bench was a worn-looking elderly man who dozed as he sat. He wouldn’t notice anything.

I used a very simple spell, one of the first that Cal had taught me, one I had used to retrieve Maeve’s tools. “I’m invisible,” I whispered. “You see me not. I am but a shadow.”

The spell didn’t really make me invisible. It simply made me unnoticeable, trivial. When I used it, people would focus on other things instead of me. I jumped up and down a few times to see if it had worked. The clerk didn’t react, so I summoned my nerve and walked behind the counter. I hesitated when I reached for the first 1982 volume. Even if the spell made me unnoticeable, I wasn’t sure it would do the same for the book.

I focused on the clerk’s computer. Electricity was a form of energy and, as Hunter had taught me, energy was fairly easy to manipulate. I sent out my own energy, focusing until I picked up the emanations from the motherboard. Then I sent my energy into it, forcing the electric current into a series of irregular spikes.

“Damn, what is wrong with this machine?” the woman muttered.

Quickly I flipped open the 1982 book to the addresses in the West Forties and began scanning the cramped columns. On the seventh page I found it: Bramson. 788 W. 49th Street, Apt. 3.

I glanced at the clerk’s computer screen. Lines were flickering madly across it. Quietly I replaced the book and started out of the office.

The clerk looked up as she heard me open the door. “You,” she said, sounding surprised. “I thought you’d left.”

I smiled at her. “You were a real help,” I said. “Thanks.”

I hurried out, enjoying her look of blank confusion.

As I waited for the subway that would take me back to the apartment, I wondered if the clerk’s computer had recovered. Even if it was permanently fried, I had no regrets. Okay, I’d used my magick on an unsuspecting person, something I wasn’t supposed to do—but she’d deserved it. Besides, I hadn’t hurt her.

I knew, of course, that if Hunter ever found out what I’d done, he’d be angry. But this situation had been special. Using magick to get my birth mother’s address seemed justified. No real damage had been done, and I’d gotten the necessary results.

I felt good. My magick was growing stronger and more sure, and I loved it.

That evening we ate dinner at a bustling diner on lower Second Avenue. All six of us were squeezed into a booth with red vinyl seats. Hunter was on one side of me, Robbie on the other.

“So, what does everyone want to do tonight?” Bree asked.

“I’ve always wanted to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge,” said Robbie. “It must be gorgeous at night when you can see all the lights of Manhattan.”

Bree waved a dismissive hand. “Excellent way to get mugged. Besides, it’s freezing.”

“Actually, I’ve got a lead I need to pursue,” Hunter said. “There’s a club not too far from here, a bit of a hangout for witches, and I’m told one of the DJs might know something about Amyranth. How would you all feel about going to a dance club?”

Raven grinned at Sky. “I could live with that.”

Sky nodded, Bree said, “Sounds good,” and Robbie said, “Cool.”

I was the only one who seemed to have mixed feelings about going. On the one hand, I was dying to go to a cool New York club, especially one where other witches hung out. But on the other, I was terrified I’d be rejected at the door, or if I actually got in, everyone would know I was from the boonies. Besides, I’ve always been too self-conscious to enjoy dancing.

“I have one condition, though,” Hunter went on. “If we go to this club and someone asks where you’re from, just say upstate. Also, no one says anything about Selene and Cal. I don’t want any of you associated with what happened to them.”

Raven made a face. “Do you have to get all cloak-and-dagger on us?”

I saw Sky stiffen. Hunter, though, merely said, “We don’t take risks with each other’s safety.” His voice was quiet but firm.

Raven looked away. “Forget I said anything.”

“Fine,” Hunter agreed, and let the subject drop.

The club was in the East Village, just beyond Avenue C. On the way over, Hunter hooked his arm through mine, and I felt absurdly happy. When we reached Avenue C, he nodded toward a large industrial building with big, opaque glass windows. “That’s it,” he said.

A husky guy in black jeans and a black leather jacket stood in front of a rope at the door. I was suddenly nervous again. “What if they don’t let us in?” I asked.

“They’ll let us in,” Hunter said with the assurance of the effortlessly beautiful.

It occurred to me that I was the only one in our group who might have trouble. Bree was gorgeous, and Robbie was, too. Raven definitely made a fashion statement. As for Hunter and Sky, in addition to their luminous blond hair, fine, even features, and cheekbones to die for, they had a certain indefinable cool. I’m not ugly or anything, but I don’t stand out, either. My hair, which I actually like, was in a single, messy braid. Plus I’d dressed for the cold, not a trendy club.

But the time for worrying was over. We were suddenly at the door and the bouncer was opening the rope for us, with a nod to Hunter.

I felt a burst of triumph. I almost blurted, I did it. I got in!

Oh God, I thought, I’m such a nerd.

“I didn’t realize you were the club type,” I said to Hunter.

“I’m not,” he assured me with a smile as we walked into an enormous room. Near the door was a bar that opened onto a vast dance floor where two DJs were spinning house music. At the far end of the room I saw an area with cozy bench seats. Hunter pointed to it. “The café serves cappuccino and pastries. Want something?”

I shook my head. “Not yet.”

We checked our coats. I gazed at my clothes doubtfully. Faded brown cords, one of my dad’s oversize wool sweaters, heavy, winter hiking boots. Clearly I hadn’t been thinking straight when I’d packed for this trip.

“There’s someone I need to talk with,” Hunter said in my ear. “Do you mind if I leave you on your own for a few minutes?”

“No, of course not,” I said, though I did mind. I was feeling more insecure and provincial by the second.

Hunter blended into the crowd. I tried not to feel irked by the fact that Sky went with him, no questions asked. I stood there, trying to look casual and feeling completely out of my element.

I walked back to the edge of the dance floor. In an effort to stop focusing on my insecurities, I opened up and let my senses explore.

There was a thick, throbbing feel to the air. After a moment I realized it wasn’t just the music—the club was actually pulsing with magick. I’d never felt anything like it before. There must be dozens of blood witches here, I thought. I could pinpoint a few of them even in this crowd, not so much because of what they were doing, but because power streamed out from them in a way that was almost tangible.