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half-off. Stinking water and black muck soaked her from head to foot – just as it had soaked him and Ariane that morning. On her chest, just below her bra, he saw a big purpling bruise.
    He gaped at her. “What happened to you?”
    She jerked her T-shirt back down. “Don’t you ever knock?” she snarled.
    “You left the bathroom door open.”
    “I didn’t know you were here. Now get out.”
    He didn’t budge. “You’re soaked. Wascana Lake, from the smell of it. Fall in?”
    “None of your business.” She pointed to the door. “Get out!”
    “All right, all right.” He backed up, and she slammed the door in his face. He put his mouth close to the door. “Ariane put up a fight, eh?”
    The door opened again so suddenly he jumped back. “You shut up about her!” Felicia’s voice shook and her green eyes blazed in her pale face. He’d never seen her so angry. “You don’t mention her. And you don’t talk to her. If I catch you –”
    “You’re dripping all over the carpet,” Wally pointed out.
    Felicia told him to do something to himself that would have shocked Ms. Carson into a dead faint, then slammed the door again. A moment later he heard water running in the shower.
    Wally returned to his homework and the TV, but could n’t pay attention to either. Instead, he stared into a corner of the room at nothing in particular. Felicia had gone after Ariane. Felicia had come back bruised, and as wet and furious as a half-drowned cat.
    The conclusion was inescapable. Somehow – he had no idea how – Ariane had gotten the better of his sister.
    He grinned. The more he learned about Ariane, the more he liked her.
    The fact that he and she had a magical quest to complete was just gravy.

CHAPTER FIVE

    The White Ford
    By the time Ariane got home to Wallace Street, she was more exhausted than she could remember ever having been in her life. Her determination to explore her strange new power and think seriously about how she could use it to fulfill the Lady’s quest – and use it to find her mother – had given way to an even stronger determination to go straight to bed.
    Nevertheless, for some reason the College Avenue intersection drew her tired attention. She stared at it, frowning. For a moment, nothing moved. Then a white Ford Focus turned the corner. It drove slowly past her, and as it passed, she caught a glimpse of its driver, a middle-aged man with a graying beard and ponytail. He didn’t see her – he was looking at something in the passenger seat. The car continued down the street and turned left at the next intersection.
    Ariane stared after it. She’d never seen that car in the neighbourhood before. There was nothing particularly odd about that . The driver could be visiting someone. He could have been looking down at a map in the driver’s seat. But still, something about the car and the driver felt wrong in a way Ariane couldn’t quite put her finger on. The Lady’s power, warning me about something?
    She shook her head. Most likely, Aunt Phyllis’s paranoia about prowlers was starting to rub off on her.
    Pulling her house key from her pocket, she walked by the tipsy garden gnome and back up the front steps she had dashed down in fury just an hour ago. The outer door was unlocked, and she stepped into the little entryway. But she paused before unlocking the inner door, gathering her strength to confront her aunt yet again.
    She knew she needed to talk to Aunt Phyllis, to smooth things over, but right now what she needed most was sleep. She would have to convince her aunt to put off their heart-to-heart until tomorrow. Wouldn’t it be better to talk after they had both had a good night’s sleep? Silently composing her argument in her head, Ariane took a deep breath, unlocked the door, and opened it.
    No one called out to her. In fact, she could hear nothing but the muttering voice of some CBC commentator on the radio.
    Ariane crept forward and looked through the French doors into the