We arrived at the Protectorate an hour later. Since Lachlan’s magic was gone and he couldn’t make a portal, we had to use one of his transport charms. They were rare and expensive, but this was kind of an emergency.

Unfortunately, because of Protectorate security, we couldn’t transport directly within the walls. We chose the front gate, instead. The wind whipped across the mountains behind us, cutting through my leather jacket and thin dress. As I walked, my boots crunched down on icy layers of snow.

I clutched my bloody clothes in a plastic bag as I walked to the enormous wooden gate and pressed my hand to it. Magic flared briefly—the castle’s magic, not mine, fortunately, since that was mostly gone—and the gate creaked open.

I gave the surrounding mountains one last glance—the Highlands really were the most beautiful place I’d ever been—then stepped through the gate.

Lachlan followed, and we made our way quickly toward the castle.

“Most of the staff will be gone,” I said. “Off hunting the clue.”

“Hopefully they’ll be close enough to portals to return quickly,” he said.

As we neared the courtyard in front of the castle, I saw more people than I expected. Lavender and Angus—two of the other students—along with our friends Caro, Ali, and Haris.

Caro looked at me from across the courtyard, her face pale. Ali and Haris didn’t look any better, their dark complexions several shades lighter than normal.

I frowned. “Something is wrong.”

“Do you feel that?” Lachlan nodded toward the castle door.

I turned my focus toward it. Magic rolled out from the castle, strong and fierce. It brought with it the sense of raw power, pushing and pulling against me like massive waves. I’d only felt it a few times before.

I gasped. “Arach!”

“The dragon spirit who started the Protectorate?”

“The same.” I picked up the pace. Something was really wrong if she was making an appearance.

I hurried toward the entry. The massive wooden doors swung open, and I raced through into the hall. The feel of Arach’s magic pulled me toward her office.

“This way.” I led Lachlan through the corridors until we reached the room where Arach most often appeared. The few times I’d been in here, I’d loved this room. The walls were at least thirty feet high, and each was covered in brilliantly colored paintings. A fireplace always flickered warmly in the hearth. I could spend days in there.

I stepped inside, my eyes going straight for Arach. She was unlike any woman I had ever seen—primarily because she wasn’t a woman at all. She was the spirit of a dragon in human form. Sort of human form.

She stood near the large fireplace, glowing with a pale white light. Her features were almost reptilian, and when she moved, she shimmered. As if she were only partially there. A ghost.

Long ago, when she’d been a flesh-and-blood dragon, she’d given her magic to help create this castle, and now she presided over it, guarding every generation of warriors and investigators and protectors who worked here. The Protectorate had been formed before the supernatural governments, a gift from the dragons meant to protect the other supernaturals who needed someone to fight on their side.

I loved their purpose and wanted so badly to be a part of it. To earn Arach’s respect and a place here. She appeared rarely, though. Only when the situation was truly dire.

This was truly dire.

“Finally, you’ve arrived.” Arach’s voice rang with power. Her gaze moved toward Lachlan, who stood at my side. “You’ve been creating dangerous magic again, I hear.”

“The world needs it, occasionally.”

She nodded, reluctantly agreeing. “I suppose if it has to be made, then you should be the one to do it.”

I shot Lachlan a surprised and impressed glance. Arach respected him.

Wowzers.

We had so much to tell her that I wondered where to start. But if she was here already, that meant the problem was probably worse than we realized.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “You only appear when things are totally up a creek.”

Her brows rose. “I assume you mean that we face a difficult challenge.”

“It’s as bad as we thought.” A feminine voice sounded from behind me, and I turned.

Jude, the leader of the PITs, and Hedy walked into the room, their expressions tight and their eyes worried. The lavender-haired Hedy was the resident witch and inventor and one of my favorite people here. She was in charge of research and development, which often resulted in some very cool magic. Her silver dress gleamed like water as she crossed the room toward us.

“What is going on?” Lachlan asked.

“All of the individuals competing to find your missing spell have lost control of their magic.”

I gasped.

“Including you, Lachlan,” Arach said. “I can see in your aura that it is repressed.”

“It is. But everyone’s is gone?”

“Almost.” Arach’s eyes darted briefly to me, but she said nothing.

Was I the almost? I’d gotten my magic to work briefly this morning. Lachlan’s hadn’t worked at all.

“It has to be connected to the ancientus spell,” I said. “Whoever stole it is worried that we’re getting close. He—or she—is trying to stop us.”

“I think that’s likely,” Jude said.

“They’ve repressed your magic, though,” Hedy said. “Not stolen it entirely. So there is still hope. But we must work quickly to save everyone.”

“Whoever stole the spell has evil plans for it,” Arach said. “They must want to bring back some kind of dark magic from the past. We cannot let them.”

The only way to do that was to recover the spell.

Fates, there was no turning back now.

Not that I’d ever planned to, but we were in serious trouble, and the only way out was forward.

If I had a tiny bit of my magic left, maybe my new seer ability could be used to find it. I needed to try, at least.

Everyone was talking now, debating theories and options. I slipped away, moving silently out the door and into the hall.

I was only a few steps from the room when Bree and Rowan hurried forward. Their gazes brightened when they saw me.

“You’re back!” Bree said. “Dressed weird, though.”

I looked down at the floral dress I was still wearing. “Borrowed it from a ghost. Did you just return?”

“Just now,” Rowan said.

“How’s your magic? Do you still have it?”

They both shook their heads.

“Mine’s gone,” Bree said.

“Mine’s same as ever.” Rowan grimaced. “Gone.”

I gave her a sympathetic look.

“How are you?” Bree asked.

“I don’t know.” I frowned. “I may not have lost my magic totally, but I have no control over it.”

“The transition?”

“I think so. My premonition power worked a bit when we were in the Paris sewers. It just showed up, guiding me. Never came when I called, though. But my shield is wonky.”

“Did you find anything in Paris? We struck out in London. Thought we were onto something, but it was a bust. Then our magic disappeared.”

“We almost had it,” I said. “But the thieves got away.”

“We should ask the FireSouls,” Bree said. “This is more difficult than I expected, but they could find it.”

“Apparently Jude already asked,” I said. “They’re busy with some emergency.”

“Damn.” Bree frowned. “That means two things are seriously wrong in the world right now.”

“Exactly,” I said. “But I want to head to the library to try to interpret the newest clue that we got. Maybe I can jog my premonition power. Want to come with—”

“Ana.” Arach’s powerful voice sounded from behind me.

I turned.

She drifted gracefully toward me, not so much walking as gliding.

“Arach. Did Lachlan fill you in?”

“Yes, he did. It sounds like you did well in Paris.”

“We failed.”

“But you got another clue.” Her gaze assessed me, seeming to pry into my soul. “All of the competitors will be given the new information, and the hunt will begin again.”

“New information?” Bree asked.

“It will all be explained at the meeting in the round room in thirty minutes.” She turned to me. “But you, Ana. Something is different about you.”

“Um.” I swallowed hard, hesitating briefly. It was still hard to just blurt it out after so many years of hiding. But my secret was safe with her. I sucked in a deep breath and spit it out. “I may be transitioning to Dragon God. But I have no control over my power. I’m a mess.”

She nodded. “I can see it in you. But your magic has not been fully repressed like everyone else’s. There’s still a light within you.”

“A light? Is that how my magic has always looked?”

“No. When you first came here, you looked like any other supernatural. You had your magical signature, but no light from within.”

“Do you think it could be my new gift of premonition?”

“Maybe.” Doubt flashed across her face. “But I’m not sure. I wouldn’t imagine it would manifest that way.”

“Do you know which pantheon my magic might be from?”

She shook her head. “Premonition, or this light power, could be from any of them.”

The light power had only made an appearance once before, more than a month ago, back when I’d been helping Bree and the sickness wraiths had attacked.

“I think the light is protecting you,” she said. “It looks like a healing light of some sort. It’s protecting you from the curse that is attacking everyone else.”

“You’re the only one left with magic,” Bree said. “Out of all of us.”

“You’re special, Ana,” Arach said. “I think the success of this mission may come down to you. Give it everything you have. Whatever magic is inside you—use it. Use your premonition gift to find the spell. The Protectorate needs you.”

“But I have no control over it.”

“You must obtain the control. You need to save yourself, but also everyone else. Save your friends. Save your sisters.”

Fates. No pressure.

I swallowed hard and nodded.

“Good. I’m counting on you.” She spun on her heel and drifted away, back into her room.

I turned to my sisters, knowing that my face was probably white as a sheet. “I need a Plan B. There’s no way I can just call on my premonition power and solve this.”

“Any idea what it will be?” Bree asked.

“Well—”

Two other students stepped into the hall. Lavender and Angus. The jerks. They eyed me as they passed.

“She doesn’t stand a chance,” Lavender muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. “Not qualified to be here.”

I seethed but shoved the anger down deep. I didn’t have time to respond. Not when so much was on the line. “I’m going to the library.”

“What about the meeting in the round room?” Rowan asked.

“Skipping. I really need to get started on this, and I need something to help jumpstart my premonition sense, since I certainly can’t do it on my own. Will you update me if anything happens?” I tapped the comms charm around my neck.

“Sure,” Bree said. “We’ll tag team this.”

“Good luck in the library with Potts.” Rowan shuddered.

The day librarian was a mean old bastard. Given the choice, I’d have waited until night, when Florian, the ghost librarian, took over.

But time was the last thing I had.

“Thanks, guys.” I left, hurrying down the hall toward the library. I passed more than a dozen people on my way, and every one of them looked dejected and stressed.

They were all hunting the spell, and they’d lost control of their magic. I almost thought I could see the dark shadow of magic that surrounded them, repressing their power.

I was nearly to the library when Caro, Ali, and Haris turned the corner and bumped into me.

Caro’s platinum hair gleamed, but her eyes were duller than normal. Her silver leather jacket was speckled with blood—not her own, from the looks of the pattern.

Ali and Haris weren’t kicking their usual hacky sack between them, and their dark skin was pale. Their eyes were also duller.

“How’s your magic?” I asked, even though I knew.

“Gone.” Caro frowned.

“It’s the bloody worst,” Ali said.

“Second that,” Haris added.

“Where are you going?” Caro asked. “There’s a meeting in the round room.”

“Library.” I explained my plan.

Caro grinned, the first sign of the spunky girl I was used to. “I like how you think. But we’ve got some info that might help.”

“Italy,” Ali said.

“Italy?”

“Exactly.” Caro nodded. “We were in Beijing, tracking word of new bad guys in town. We came across a group with a silver circle tattooed on the back of their necks.”

My eyes widened. “So did I. In Paris.”

Ali’s gaze sharpened. “It must be their symbol.”

“And maybe Paris wasn’t the only invader’s city that these guys were in,” I said.

“It sounds like a large operation,” Haris said.

“No kidding.” Caro gripped my shoulder as if to impress upon me the seriousness of the situation. “This group—the ones in Beijing—they mentioned something about a drop-off in Italy.”

“Dropping off the spell, maybe.” My heart thundered. “This is a good clue.”

“So Italy means something to you?” Ali asked.

“It could. I have an idea where to look. A rough clue. Lachlan will tell you all about it in the meeting. I have a feeling the teams will split up again, each going after different info.”

Haris rubbed his hands together. “The race continues.”

Caro grinned. “I like it.”

“Good luck,” I said. “Let me know if you learn anything else.”

“Will do.” Caro grinned and turned, then looked back. “When this is all over, you’ve got to teach me how to paint, okay?”

I nodded. I’d promised her earlier, but we hadn’t had a chance. Not that I knew what to teach her. I just painted by instinct, slopping colors on in whatever order appealed to me. Fortunately for me, it usually looked damned good.

But I liked the idea of having a friend date. I wouldn’t trade my sisters for all the gold and kittens in the world, but it was nice to have another friend. We’d lived on our own so long, wary and afraid of forming connections.

I turned and headed toward the library. The heavy wooden doors beckoned, and I pulled them open. As soon as I stepped into the massive, book-filled room, the fireplaces on each wall burst to life. The orange flames shed a warm glow on the brightly colored leather spines of the thousands of books in the library. Paintings hung on the walls—some of them even hung over the books, and they all glowed in the light of the fire.

High against the wall, I caught sight of Mayhem, the winged ghost pug. She had a rag gripped in her teeth and was rubbing it against the spines of the books.

“Earning your keep?” I asked her.

She yipped.

In front of the fire, two plush dog beds contained the other Pugs of Destruction—Chaos and Ruckus. They snored in front of the flames. Chaos’s devil horns glinted in the light, while Ruckus’s fangs gleamed on either side of his lolling tongue.

I grinned at them, then searched the library for any sign of Potts, the day librarian. He’d chew my head off if I messed around in his library without him knowing it. I was willing to face down a half dozen demons, but I was not willing to get on Potts’s bad side more than I already was.

“Oooooh, oooooh!” Ghostly wails echoed from somewhere in the library’s recesses.

I grinned.

Jackpot. It was Florian, my favorite ghost librarian. Bonus—I’d get to avoid the miserable Potts too.

“Oh my fates, what terrifying apparition is this?” I cried, laying on an accent that I most closely associated with a rich lady from the 1800s.

It probably sucked.

A ghost drifted out from the wall. He was young, with thick glasses that magnified his eyes and clothes from the eighteenth century. His fancy wig was a bit askew, but I wouldn’t dare tell him. Florian Bumbledomber, the ghostly night librarian, could be quite sensitive.

“Did I scare you?” he asked.

I nodded. “Totally.”

It was Florian’s greatest hobby, scaring the library visitors.

“I’m glad you’re here, but why isn’t Potts? It’s the middle of the day.”

“He had to attend the meeting in the round room.” Florian sniffed, as if offended he hadn’t been invited. “So I’ve taken over for him.”

“Thank fates,” I said. “Because I really need your help.”

He brightened. “You do? But why aren’t you at the meeting?”

“I’m hunting answers. I already know what they’ll talk about.” I tapped my comms charm. “And Bree will update me.”

“Excellent plan. What do you need?”

I explained the clues I’d been given—an ancient conqueror’s city, likely in Italy. A place that was literally full of ancient cities.

“Ooh, that’s a doozy,” he said. “There are quite a lot of places like that there. You’re going to need the ghost library.”

I smiled. I loved the ghost library.

He led me toward the far wall, which towered high, piled with books, then veered toward the left corner. A large wooden door was hidden in a nook, and he pushed it open.

A wall of cold air rushed out, carrying along the scent of paper and leather and magic. Shining sparks drifted on the air as I followed him into the best part of the library.

It was an enormous circular area, making the huge room we’d left behind look miniscule. We stepped out onto a platform in the middle of the ten-story space. The walls soared high above us and dropped down far below. The huge empty section in the middle allowed me to see all of the circular levels filled with books.

Florian drifted onto the platform, sighing with contentment. “My domain.”

It was much grayer and darker than the other library—but it was massive. And there was something hauntingly magical about it.

Beams of light streamed down from the domed ceiling above, and dust motes glittered in the air. Shining golden balls of light floated near the ceiling.

There were hundreds of nooks and crannies and different sections, all crammed with millions of books. I’d been here a couple times before, and it was still a maze my mind could hardly comprehend.

I walked toward the railing, realizing that no stairs had appeared to admit me to the rest of the library like they often did. Which meant there was no way to access the books. If I jumped over the railing, I’d plummet five stories to the huge mosaic map that made up the floor.

No thanks.

I turned to Florian. “Do I have to make a contribution?”

He looked around. “It seems that the library demands it.”

Dang. I chewed on my lip.

In order to access this part of the library, one had to occasionally make an offering. The first time I’d been here, Bree and I had been in search of answers. In order to gain access and get those answers, we’d written down everything we knew about crossing Death Valley.

The library had been pleased and traded us info for info.

But this time? I’d already told the library all the good stuff I knew.

What new thing could I contribute?

Florian took his usual seat by the door to wait, and I walked toward the table at the side of the platform. It was piled high with empty books and magical pens. All I had to do was think of something that I alone knew, and then put magical pen to magical paper.

And voila!

Except….

I was fresh out of original ideas. I fiddled with a pen as my gaze traced over the table, catching sight of a box. It was ornately carved and about as large as a takeout pizza.

Muffin sat on top of the box, staring at me.

“Where’d you come from?”

Just being helpful.

Mayhem, the winged pug, flew into the room. She made a beeline for Muffin but didn’t chase him. The Cat Sìth was much scarier than Mayhem anyway. Muffin jumped off the table to join Mayhem.

Off to find some hams. He flicked his tail. Use your talents.

Use my talents? I watched him trot away, then opened the box. An array of paints and brushes sat there.

Was that new? I hadn’t seen this last time I’d been here.

A flash of white near the corner of the desk caught my eye. I leaned over and looked. Canvasses.

Clearly the library wanted me to paint it something. I had no idea what, but since I didn’t feel prepared to write a treatise on something, I picked up the canvas.

This, at least, I understood.

I propped it on the desk, picked up some paints, and squirted colors on the palette that had sat under the paint box. I chose red on instinct, putting a broad swath across the white canvas.

Most of my painting was done this way, colors flowing out of me like words. I rarely had a plan—just followed what was in my soul. Ever since I’d been little, painting had fascinated me. You could make your own reality on the canvas. In a world that had been full of fear and hiding, that had been intoxicating.

But we’d never had the money for supplies, or the time. I’d put my creativity into the buggy, which had provided our desperately needed living.

As a result, the buggy was an incredible work of art, though some might mistake it for simple machinery.

But it wasn’t painting.

Something in this spoke to my soul in a different way.

So I kept at it, imagining what the library might want. As I worked, magic began to flow through me. It started as a tingle in my stomach, then spread out to my limbs. Unmistakable, but also a bit foreign.

It was the new magic.

The prophecy or seeing or sight or whatever it was.

The magic directed my hand, taking over instinct and melding the two together. I chose brown, slashing it on the canvass. Then a lighter beige, black, white. The painting that began to form was unlike anything I’d ever painted.

I covered up the slashes of bright color, replacing them instead with a more realistic rendering of a trapdoor in the corner of the library. It was beaten and old, with the corner of a bright rug overtop of it.

When I stepped back, finished, the strangest sensation came over me.

That door was real. And it was somewhere in the library.

“Finished?” Florian asked, his voice sleepy.

I turned. As usual, he’d fallen asleep in his chair while waiting.

He stood and came closer. His eyes widened. “What is this?”

“I have no idea.” I set the paintbrush down. “I painted it, but magic directed my hand.” I could probably tell Florian about the prophecy power I was beginning to develop—we could trust the ghost.

But old habits died hard.

He leaned toward the painting and squinted. “That’s the southwest corner of the ghost library. Rarely used anymore. I didn’t realize there was a trapdoor under there.”

“Did I find it?”

“I suppose we’d have to check to see if it’s really there.” He stood upright, then pointed to the railing that separated the platform from the rest of the library.

Magic swirled around it, and the railing disappeared, replaced with stairs leading down to the next level. “The library seems to agree that you’ve contributed something of value, though.”

“Can we go check out that trapdoor? Like, now?” I needed to know. Had my power really found something that even Florian didn’t know existed?