Whatever happened must have occurred before they were spotted in Dallas, because now it struck me that the caliph hadn’t sent me after the albino demon to prove their innocence—he wanted me to find it to prove they were guilty. “The albino demon. Nivella,” I whispered.

“Oh, oui. We found the talon and seal in your clothes,” my mother said. “How did you find out about Nivella? We didn’t tell anyone about her.”

“You lied to Caliph Superior—gave him a bad description of the demon,” I realized.

“Of course,” my father replied. “We couldn’t have him snooping around and digging her up. She helped us with all the siphonings.”

“Siphonings? You mean murders.”

“Well, that’s why we removed the talon, so no one else could conjure her and find out what we were doing. It also served as a beautiful ritual dagger. When it was confiscated, we had to search for another demon with the same power. It took us years, but we found one, and were prepared to summon her tonight, but now that you’ve brought us Nivella’s talon, we can just use her. Better the devil you know, yes?”

“How did you piece together that we’d originally used Nivella?” my mother asked.

“The Tamlins.”

My parents looked at each other in disbelief. “The confusion spell—”

“They had it removed,” I said. “Mostly.”

My father nodded in understanding. “Not a particularly bright couple. We thought about killing the Tamlins when they caught us in Portland during the third siphoning, but they weren’t worth the effort. Not enough Heka to even consider harvesting.”

“They still think you’re innocent.”

“Regardless, we might need to pay them a little visit soon to keep them quiet.” My father shrugged. “Almost time now.” He smiled and turned to Frater Blue and gave him a silent signal. The man stepped inside the circle and lifted the hood of his robe.

Panic sobered me. I screamed at the top of my lungs.

“Calm down, don’t wear yourself out,” my father said. “We’re deep inside Balboa Park, off a private hiking trail. There’s no one for miles. The ritual will go smoother if you remain calm and centered.”

“How could you do this?” I sobbed, tears blinding me, stinging my eyes. “I’m your daughter. You loved me—I know you did. Why did you stop?”

“Darling,” my mother said, moving her hand near my cheek but not touching me, “how many times have we told you that strong emotions are weakness? That’s not to say we don’t care. We planned your conception. Meticulous, careful planning. You weren’t just an accident or a result of some unplanned erotic passion, like most savages are.”

“I was the result of some stupid, loveless ritual—that’s worse!”

“No, you are very mistaken, it was not loveless, and we were so happy when you were born. We treated you like a goddess. Gave you every tool you could need to be successful and enjoy the life that you were given. We were good parents.”

“Good parents don’t kill their children after raising them!”

“It’s an honorable death,” my father argued. “Not a wasted one. People die honorably for their country in war every day. How could dying for this be any less?”

He said this like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. And instead of being repulsed by the motive behind the words, all I could think about was trying to get back what I’d lost. Raw, painful sobbing hobbled my reasoning. And I snapped, racked by memories of better times.

“I can change,” I pleaded. “I can be what you need me to be. Whatever you envisioned, you can teach me. I can learn.” A shadow crossed my mother’s eyes. Emotion. I know I saw it. “You can take me overseas with you. I can stay hidden. I’ve never been caught, not in seven years. I’m smart. I can …” What? What would I do? “I can help you start your new Aeon. I’ll summon whatever you want. Please. Give me a chance to show you.”

For a moment, just a moment, I thought I might have reached her. Thought I spotted some spark of motherly instinct inside her that would override her insanity. But then my father touched her shoulder, whispering something low in French that I couldn’t hear. And her face hardened along with her will.

“There is no shame in this,” my father said gently. “It is a beautiful gift, what you are giving us today, and we are grateful for it.”

My head spun as madness overtook me, and I screamed again. It reverberated off the rocky hill and echoed around the dark trees, the only witnesses to the my last breaths.

“Shh, now.

Calm and centered,” my father repeated. Calm and centered? Ironically, it was good advice. Begging them to spare me had been weak and pathetic. A mistake made in desperation. I had to pull myself together. Focus. This was no time to fall apart. If I could survive, I’d have time for that later.

I compartmentalized my panic and surveyed my escape options.

The bonds around my hands and ankles were too tight to break. Maybe my wards? I tried to spit on my arm to activate one of them—any of them—but my mouth was dry from the drugs they gave me; what little saliva I could muster just stuck to the red shroud or trickled down my upper arm, stopping far above my elbow.

There was no electricity nearby. I reached out, straining to pull anything at all, but came up empty; we were too deep in the woods. And Priya was dead, so I had no guardian to call for help. My mind flashed back to the incubus in the caves. He gave me his name, Voxhele of Amon. I could summon him. But why? How could he help? Offer to have sex with my parents to distract them? Useless.