When we reached the outskirts of the city, Ms. Terwilliger made a stop not for coffee, but for a bouquet of burgundy roses that she thrust into my lap when she returned to the car, much to Hopper’s dismay. “Hang on to these,” she told me. I did without question and used the opportunity to transform Hopper back into his statue form. He’d had more than enough out time these past few days.

A recluse witch made me think of Clarence, so I was surprised when we pulled up at a very modern Spanish‑style house that was pretty much the opposite of an old Gothic manor. It was made weirder still by an El Camino with a flat tire sitting out on the driveway. I’d expected something outlandish and eccentric from what the other witches had said, so this nod to normality was almost a disappointment.

Then we stepped inside the door.

It was like being in a shrine . . . to roses and doilies. Every surface in the place was covered. In that way it wasn’t unlike Ms. Terwilliger’s house; despite having her former home and possessions recently destroyed, she had somehow managed to fill up a new house with junk in less than a month. But whereas her items were tossed haphazardly around because she didn’t feel like putting them away, all the clutter here seemed to be by design. There were vases of silk roses carefully centered on crocheted doilies, figurines of puppies carrying roses in their mouths on lace doilies, and delicate rose‑covered tea sets placed on paper doilies. And that was just the start of it. It all had a really old feel to it as well, like I’d been transported back to the 1890s.

Adrian stood behind us, just outside the door, and I was pretty sure I heard him mutter, “Needs more rabbits.”

“Well, hello, Inez,” Ms. Terwilliger said to our hostess. With a start, I realized I couldn’t ever recall my teacher acting so nervous around anyone. “You look as lovely as ever.”

Inez Garcia was a tiny waif of a woman, like some fairy from the hollow hills. Her white hair was pulled into a long braid down her back, and she wore her glasses around her neck on a long blue‑beaded chain. Her jeans had an impossibly high waist and were paired with, unsurprisingly, a rose‑printed shirt. The lines of her ninety years showed on her face, but there was a sharpness in her dark eyes that explained Ms. Terwilliger’s unease.

“Don’t you start up with me, Jaclyn Terwilliger! I know why you’re here. You want something. It’s the only reason anyone comes by these days. There’s no pleasantries, no tea. Just want, want, want.”

Ms. Terwilliger gulped and pushed me forward. “Inez, this is Sydney Melrose. Look what she’s brought for you.”

It took me a moment to remember the roses, and I held them out with a forced smile. Inez took them warily and sniffed each of them before giving a small grunt of approval. “Come in.” We entered further into the foyer, and that’s when she noticed Adrian. “Well, well, look what you dragged up. You could’ve saved yourself the money on the flowers and just brought me him. Been a while since I entertained a handsome young Moroi.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve met a woman who appreciates roses as much as I do,” said Adrian, ever quick on his feet. “Not that my experience has always been great with them. I’ve got to say, though, I’ve never seen such excellent decorating taste. You go for pink too, huh? I told them that when they got the flowers, but would they listen to me? No. They insisted on burgundy.”

Inez narrowed her eyes as she gave Ms. Terwilliger a once‑over. “What are you playing at, bringing one of them here? Their kind almost never come to us for help.”

“This isn’t about him,” explained Ms. Terwilliger. “It’s Sydney. My apprentice.”

Inez pondered this as she put the roses in a vase (which had roses painted on it) and allowed us to sit in her mauve parlor. The scent of roses was cloying, and I counted at least three plug‑in air fresheners responsible for the oppressive atmosphere. Inez settled back into a velvet padded armchair that I almost thought was rose‑free until I saw more of them carved into the wood.

“So.” Inez scrutinized me as I gingerly sat down beside Ms. Terwilliger on the sofa. Adrian made himself comfortable on a thronelike chair. “An apprentice, huh? And here I thought you just spent your free time advocating chia seeds in natural‑foods forums.” The old woman’s eyes suddenly widened, and I realized she’d caught sight of my left cheek. She chuckled softly to herself. “This gets stranger by the minute. You’re braver than I thought, taking on one of them.”

“She’s very strong,” said Ms. Terwilliger almost defensively.

Inez tsked and picked up a teacup. It smelled like Earl Grey, and I hoped she’d offer us some. “Do you think I don’t know that? I could tell as soon as I opened the door. How’d you manage that? Aren’t you worried about consorting with the devil, girl? Or whatever it is you Alchemists believe?” She glanced over at Adrian. “But then, you must’ve overcome a few of your hang‑ups about the supernatural if you rode in the same car as Jaclyn’s pool boy.”

I’d known Inez was familiar with the vampiric world. It was why we were here, after all, to learn about her history of fighting Strigoi. I also knew from being with the coven that vampires were just business as usual to some witches. Nonetheless, it was a completely new and baffling experience to be with an outsider who was so at ease with Moroi.

“These hands don’t do manual labor,” Adrian told her.

“Be quiet, boy,” she snapped. “Before you become less endearing.”

I cleared my throat. “I don’t do any consorting with the devil, ma’am.” Just an insolent yet irritatingly attractive vampire. “Mostly I’ve been translating spells and learning to defend myself.”

“Her training has made her an excellent scholar,” insisted Ms. Terwilliger.

“Scholar, pah.” Inez made a dismissive wave of her hand. “Just looks like some flighty teenage girl to me, one who probably thinks she’s being a rebel by tinkering with magic. Doesn’t matter how strong she is if she can’t focus and get serious about the craft. Do you have a boyfriend, girl? Yes, of course you do. That just makes things worse. There’s no getting through to them when all they’ve got is the backseat of a car on their mind. We didn’t have those problems in my day. They’d send us off to our mentors and lock us away. No boys. No temptation. Lose your virginity, girl, and you lose half your magic. Something you might have thought about, Jaclyn.” She finally paused to catch her breath and drink more tea. I made a point of studying her teacup because I knew if I looked at Adrian, I was going to start laughing. “No, there’s no use bothering with kids these days, not with all their texting and reality TV and power drinks. She’s a snappy dresser, I’ll give you that, but that’s not enough to get me to waste my time with some young girl.”

“You don’t even know what I want,” I blurted out. “And I’m not that  young. I’ll be nineteen in about two weeks.”

Inez rolled her eyes. “Aquarius? Worse and worse.”

Ms. Terwilliger had regained some of her confidence and met Inez’s shrewd gaze with a level look. “She’s extremely disciplined and extremely advanced. She takes this very seriously and has already joined the Stelle.”

That, at least, came as a surprise, and Inez glanced at me with new consideration–though still not approval. “I suppose that’s something.”

“It’s just the warm‑up,” said Adrian.

I gave him a warning look, not wanting him to “help” my case. “Please, ma’am. I need your guidance. I heard you’ve had lots of encounters with Strigoi. That you’ve fought some. I want to know more about it.”

She didn’t look impressed in the least. “Hmphf. That’s all? I figured someone like you would know more than me.”

“Not the magical side,” I said. “How did you fight them?”

“The same way anyone does. Stakes, fire, or decapitation. Not that the Moroi give us many stakes. But I’ve lit up a few Strigoi in my day. Just takes a good fireball spell.”