Over in his corral, the tortoise let out a low, huffing noise that sounded like a yes, his black eyes strangely bright in his green face.

Oscar saluted me with his sword, then started marching back and forth on my nightstand, moving from one side to the other with quick, precise movements, like a soldier standing guard.

The idea of him watching over me was comforting, and I fell asleep with the steady clack-clack-clack of his cowboy boots ringing in my ears.

I didn’t think that I would rest at all, much less sleep, but I didn’t wake up until Oscar nudged my shoulder the next morning.

“What’s going on?” I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

The pixie looked at me, his violet eyes dark and serious. “Claudia wants everyone down in the dining hall ASAP.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the black duffel bag sitting on the coffee table. “I’ve already got your stuff packed up for the tournament.”

That cleared the last dregs of sleep from my mind. I sat up in bed. “The tournament? Don’t tell me they’re still having it? What about Vance?”

Oscar shrugged. “Claudia told the other Families, but they think it’s an accident—that Vance went too far into the woods and got clawed up by a monster.”

“A monster that can use duct tape and zip ties? Yeah, sure.” I snorted. “A monster killed him all right—but it was a human one.”

“I know,” Oscar said in a somber voice. “I’ve never seen anybody cut up like that before. It was . . . vicious. Even though there wasn’t all that much blood.”

No blood, just bones and blades . . . bones and blades . . . bones and blades....

Seleste Draconi’s singsong voice echoed in my mind. I shivered the way I always did whenever I thought about her creepy warning, but this time I forced myself to really think about her words.

No blood, just bones and blades. . . . No blood, just bones.... No blood....

That’s what all the horrible things that had happened over the past few days had in common—no blood. The murdered tree troll behind the dumpster off the Midway. The slaughtered troll that Devon, Felix, and I had found on the Draconi property. All the other troll bodies in the ravine. And now Vance.

None of them had been as bloody as they should have been, despite all the deep, vicious cuts on their bodies. Of course, Vance’s blood had probably soaked into the ground. But something about no blood kept nagging at me—

“—but surely, that’s not the first time you’ve seen something as horrible as Vance’s body,” Oscar said. Apparently, he’d been talking this whole time. “I mean, that library where you lived was in a bad part of town. There are plenty of monsters there, especially at night.”

I nodded. “Yeah. And every once in a while, I’d see the remains of some smaller creature that the bigger monsters had snacked on. But Vance . . . all those cuts on his body . . . it was something else. Worse than anything I’ve seen before, except for finding my mom’s body—and watching Grant and those two guards getting eaten by the lochness a few weeks ago.”

“But you were just defending yourself and Devon,” Oscar said. “Grant betrayed the whole Family, and he tried to rip out Devon’s magic. Yours too. At least the lochness got a meal out of him before the end. Monsters have to eat too, you know. But poor Vance. He died out there in the woods all alone. And for what? Nothing.”

I frowned. Something about Oscar’s words tugged at a corner of my mind. Something about Grant and the horrible things he’d done to Devon and me. Something about ripping out a person’s magic.

And just like that, part of the puzzle clicked together in my mind.

“No blood,” I whispered. “No blood.”

Oscar frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Vance,” I said. “He was cut to pieces, but there wasn’t a lot of blood on him or even around his body.”

“So. . . . ”

I drew in a breath. “So there wasn’t any blood because somebody ripped his magic out of him. That’s why they cut him so much. They wanted his blood, his power, his magic.”

I thought back, picturing that dagger I’d seen cutting into Vance again and again. I hadn’t been able to see any scrollwork on the hilt, but the blade itself had been dark—pulsing with a midnight-black glow. I could have smacked myself for not remembering it sooner.

“The person who killed Vance had a black blade,” I said. “And they used it to soak up all his blood, all his magic.”

“But why take Vance’s magic?” Oscar asked, his wings twitching in thought. “I mean, yeah, he had Talents for speed and strength, but Vance wasn’t the most powerful guy around. If you were going to take someone’s magic, wouldn’t you try to get the strongest person with the most power?”

“I don’t know,” I said, throwing back the covers and getting out of bed. “But I’m going to find out.”

I took a shower, put on my ren-faire getup, and went to the dining hall. Practically everyone in the Family was crowded inside, but the room was quiet, and the mood was somber. Everyone knew what had happened to Vance, and it had shaken up all of us.

I wasn’t particularly hungry, but I piled a plate full of food, heavy on the bacon strips, and headed over to the table where Devon, Felix, and Mo were sitting. All of them looked tired, and they’d barely touched their breakfasts.

“Hey, kid,” Mo said, his voice flat and lifeless as he picked at the pancakes on his plate. “I hope you got more sleep than the rest of us did.”

“I think I know why Vance was killed.”

That got their attention, and their heads snapped up. I leaned forward and told them what I thought had happened to Vance.

When I finished, Devon frowned. “But why Vance? Oscar’s right. If you were going to rip out someone’s magic, wouldn’t you do it to someone more powerful? Or someone who had a more unique Talent?”

“Like soulsight, compulsion, or transference magic?” I asked in a wry tone.

Devon winced, but he still nodded. “Yeah. Like those.”

“I don’t know. Maybe Vance was already out in the woods. Maybe he’d been making out with a girl, like you said. Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”