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what it means to be a demon, you’d understand that the Removal is not your only option. There are ways of…well, fine-tuning your powers. Of lessening the chances of hurting someone.”
    “‘Lessening’?” I repeated. “But not removing , right?”
    Dad shook his head. “I’m going about this all the wrong way,” he said, sounding frustrated. “I just want you to understand that…Sophie, have you given any thought to what it will be like once you’ve gone through the Removal? Provided you survive it, of course.”
    I had. It sounds dumb, but one of the first things I’d thought of was that I’d look like the Vandy: covered in swirling purple markings, even on my face. It wouldn’t be an easy thing to explain away in the human world, but I was hoping “crazy spring break” might work.
    When I didn’t answer Dad right away, he said, “I’m not sure you understand what really happens in that ritual. It’s not just that you won’t be able to do magic anymore. You will be destroying a vital part of yourself. The Removal gets into your blood. It rips out something that’s as much a part of you as the color of your eyes. You were meant to be a demon, Sophie, and your body and soul will fight to keep you that way. Possibly to the death.”
    There’s nothing you can say to a speech like that. So I just stared at him until he finally sighed and said, “You’re tired, and this was a great deal to tell you on your first night. I can understand if this is overwhelming.”
    “It’s not that,” I said, but he just kept on talking, something I was beginning to learn was an annoying habit of his.
    “Hopefully, after a good night’s sleep, you’ll be more receptive to what I have to tell you.” He glanced at his watch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was supposed to meet with Lara fifteen minutes ago. I trust you can find your way back to the house.”
    “It’s right in front of me, so yeah,” I muttered, but Dad was already walking down the hill.
    I sat in the gathering darkness for a long time, watching Thorne Abbey, trying to absorb everything Dad had just told me. I’d been sitting there for about ten minutes before it occurred to me that I hadn’t asked him anything about the demon kids and what they were doing here. Or how they even existed. Finally, I got up, dusted off my jeans, and headed back toward the house.
    As I walked, I thought about what Dad had said. I’d only had my powers for a few years, but they were a part of me. For the first time, I admitted to myself that the thought of slashing the magic right out of myself—and maybe dying in the process—scared the heck out of me.
    But I couldn’t go through life as a ticking time bomb either, and no matter what Dad said about “fine-tuning” my magic, as long as I had powers, exploding would always be a very real possibility. Somehow, my whole existence had become a really complicated word problem.
    I’d always sucked at those.

    There was no sign of Dad when I got back to Thorne, and I trudged up to my room. Earlier, I’d been starving, but the conversation with Dad had killed my appetite. Despite my long nap, all I wanted to do was take a hot bath and crawl into bed.
    But when I got to my room, I saw that my bed had already been made up. Had it been servants, or did they now have some sort of tidiness spell?
    Then I saw the photograph propped on the pillow.
    I wondered briefly if Dad had put the photo there himself as I reached down and picked it up. My hands trembled a little. It was a black-and-white shot of about fifty girls in the front garden of Thorne. Half of them were standing, while the other half sat on the ground, their skirts pulled demurely around their legs. Alice was one of the seated girls.
    I studied her face for a long time. Somehow, it had been easier to think of Alice as really possessed, a soulless creature using my great-grandmother’s body as a tool.
    It was harder to think of Alice’s soul still being in