I took a few deep breaths. Lon and Jupe were staring at me in that Oh-Shit, Female-Is-Crying sort of way. “I’m fine,” I said, sniffing and brushing tears off my cheeks. “I’m fine.

“Maybe you’re, you know.” Jupe squinted at me knowingly.

“Know what?”

He gave me a superior look. “Oh, you know. ‘That time.’ ” He made air quotations with one hand. “Women get weird then. I’ve noticed a lot of girls crying at school on the same days. Kiya said it’s because when girls spend a lot of time around each other, they start to, you know, on the same schedule.”

“Well, right now I’m not, ‘you knowing,’ ” I air quoted him back. “But thanks for teaching me about my own body.”

“You’re welcome,” he said seriously. “See. I’m learning all kinds of things at school. Last year none of the girls were crying. But this year? Whew! Watch out, buddy.”

“Why does God hate me?” Lon murmured.

The SUV began its familiar ascent up the dark roads that led to Lon’s secluded cliff-top property. Soft moonlight filtered through pines and redwoods. I blew out a breath and relaxed in my seat as a mind-numbing exhaustion settled over me. I wasn’t going to think about my mom anymore. Tomorrow we’d track down this Noel Saint-Hill in Morella. Maybe I’d even just do the normal thing and file charges against him. Let the police handle it. Not try to fix things with magick for once.

Two roads led to Lon’s house: a zigzag deathtrap of a road that visitors used—and on which I’d once wrecked my car and been chased down by an Æthyric demon sent to kill me—and a hidden side road that only family used. Both roads led to locked gates that required either a key code or a remote to enter. But the side road gate’s auto-open feature had broken last week. You had to get out and open the gate manually, then shut it behind you once you drove inside; the guy who installed it was supposed to fix it soon.

Jupe had closed it when we left for the racetrack, but it was now open.

“Lon,” I said, sitting up straighter. My galloping pulse cleared the emotional fuzz from my brain. “The gate.”

“It’s fine.”

The only other people who used it were the housekeepers who lived on Lon’s property, Mr. and Mrs. Holiday. And they were more anal about security than Lon.

“I know I latched it,” Jupe protested. “You think a wild animal knocked it open? Maybe an Imp?” A circular magical ward kept the acre around Lon’s house safe from intruders and Imps: small transparent demons that have the ability to pop back and forth between the planes—the only known entity with a free pass to travel at will. They were like ghostly cockroaches, irritating but harmless.

But we’d just crossed over the house ward, so it couldn’t be Imps.

“Maybe it was Foxglove,” Jupe suggested.

“Dogs can’t open gates,” Lon said as he stopped the car. “Go shut it.”

“What if something’s out there?”

Hey, I didn’t blame the kid. These cliffs were heavily wooded, and Lon owned ten acres of property. The only other souls up here were the Holidays. It was peaceful, but kind of creepy at moments like this. “I’ll shut it,” I said, jumping out of the SUV.

I scoured the dark woods around me as I walked. It was quiet and serene. A biting wind whispered through the brush and scattered the scent of cypress and dead leaves. If I stopped to listen, I’d hear the surf crashing against the rocks half a mile down the cliff below. But I didn’t want to try, not when I felt this creeped out. I thought of the man hiding in the shadows of the racetrack parking lot and moved faster. The gate screeched as I swung it shut and latched the handle. I hurried back to the yellow-lit interior of the SUV and slowed when I heard Jupe make a joyous noise. Lon shushed him.

“Okay, okay,” Jupe protested.

I stopped in front of my open door. Both of them stared back at me, wide-eyed, like they’d been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “What the hell is going on?” I asked.

“Get in,” Lon said.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s nothing. Just get in.”

A horrible worry cramped my stomach, but I got inside and shut the door.

Lon shifted into gear and drove toward the house, a modern long-lined construction of stack stone and plate glass. Very Frank Lloyd Wright. Expensive but not showy. It sprawled on a section of cleared land that overlooked the Pacific, with stunning views. But right now it was the house itself that was worrying me. I could see movement inside the golden light outlining the oversized windows. I’d usually assume it was just the Holidays. They came and went freely, and their snug cabin-style house was only a short walk down another side road.

But when I spotted the strange white Mercedes parked behind Lon’s dusty pickup truck in the circular driveway in front of the house, I started to sweat.

“Whose car is that? Is that a rental? That’s a rental. Is that car from the airport?”

Lon pulled up behind it. “Now listen. I didn’t know. Mrs. Holiday just called me.”

Jupe squealed in delight. “Cady, you are going to love them!” He opened his door before the SUV came to a complete stop and leapt out, then ran up the path to the dark red front doors.

“What’s going on?” I was close to sobbing again. Could this night get any worse?