"You mean I don't need to wait until the eighth day?"

"No, that one's true. Or so we believe, though no witch I know has ever been willing to test the theory and risk hampering her daughter's powers."

When we arrived at the back door Roberta Shaw and Anton were waiting to escort us outside. I hadn't seen the necromancer since Monday, at the funeral home. Shaw hadn't been among the staff who'd presented Savannah with gifts, so I'd assumed she'd been sent packing for her role in that horror show. Seeing her still here made me wonder whether Nast's condemnation of the funeral home debacle had been more show than substance.

"What's she doing here?" Savannah said, shooting a glare at Shaw.

"I asked Mr. Nast if Roberta could accompany us instead of Leah," Greta explained. She lowered her voice. "I don't know about you, but I don't trust that Volo."

"Well, I don't trust that necro, either," Savannah said.

Olivia hushed her. "She was only doing her job, Savannah. Now come along."

We passed the barn and entered the forest.

"So are we practicing the ceremony?" Savannah asked.

"No, we're performing a rite. A special protection rite."

"Cool."

"Very cool," Greta said. "Not many young witches get this. It requires very unique ingredients. When we mentioned it to Mr. Nast, though, he gave us carte blanche. Anything to help his little girl on her special day."

I resisted the urge to make retching noises. "What kind of protection does it give?"

"The best. Think of it as a comprehensive insurance policy. It'll prevent everything from demonic interference to having Savannah wake up with the flu next Wednesday."

"Huh," I said. "Sounds good."

"It's sorcerer magic."

"Of course."

They led us into the woods. We passed the spot where we'd practiced the afternoon before and kept going. As we walked, Savannah glanced back at Shaw and Anton.

"Who's carrying the material?" she asked.

"What material is that, dear?" Olivia said.

"For the ritual."

"Everything we need is at the site."

"I should have brought my new athame."

Both Greta and Olivia frowned, then Olivia laughed.

"Oh, that's right. Coven witches still use their tools. You'll find we've moved beyond that. We all still have an athame as a keepsake-a reminder of our past. As I'm sure you know, the tools aren't actually required for casting."

"My mom used them," Savannah said.

"That's because she was raised Coven. It takes a while to shake the old ways. I clung to my tools for years, like a security blanket. You'll find we only usetools that are imperative for casting."

"The same goes for materials," Greta said. "We've done away with all the nonessentials. Gemstones with symbolic meanings. Incense for mood. Candles for atmospheric lighting. All they do is complicate and prolong a ceremony."

"Maybe," Savannah said. "But don't you think they make it kinda… fun?"

Greta laughed. "Cabals don't have a budget for fun."

"Modern witches have made witchcraft modern," Olivia said. "You'll come to appreciate that, Savannah. It makes things much easier if we discard the baggage, both literal and figurative."

"And here we are," Greta said.

She stepped off the path, then pulled back a bush and waved us through. Savannah stepped into the clearing first. Through the bushes, I saw her walk forward, eyes on the towering trees. Then she stopped short and yelped. I dove through the bushes to find her standing over a prone figure. It was a boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen. I hurried forward, then saw the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"He's sleeping," Savannah said. "Weird. He must live around here, huh? Guess we should find someplace else-"

"He's supposed to be here," Greta said.

Savannah stared at the young man. He wore a faded denim jacket and jeans. He had light brown hair tied at the nape of his neck and the kind of soft, pretty face that markets so well to teenage girls.

"Who is he?" Savannah asked.

"Prince Charming," Greta said. "You've heard of Sleeping Beauty? Well, this is the girl-power version."

Savannah gave a half-laugh, turning away as her cheeks went scarlet. "No, really, who is he? A sorcerer?"

"He's nobody. Just a human boy." Greta grabbed a small bag from the side of the clearing. "Now, as I've said, we skip all the ritual preliminaries, so you can just go right ahead and kneel beside him."

"What? Why?"

My gut went cold. "What's going on here?"

"The protection ritual, as we said. Savannah, kneel beside the young man and put your hand on his chest."

Savannah hesitated, then started to kneel.

"No," I said. "Get up, Savannah." I turned to Greta and Olivia. "We aren't doing anything until you tell us exactly what this ritual entails."

Greta turned her back on me.

"Hey-!" I said.

I was cut off after the first word, frozen in a binding spell. Savannah started scrambling to her feet, but Anton put his hands on her shoulders and pressed her down.

"Hey! Don't-! Paige!" Savannah swung her gaze up to Olivia, who stood behind me and was undoubtedly casting the binding spell. "Let her go! Now!"