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“No,” Beau says quickly. “No, it isn’t.” He rises from his chair with wide, panicked eyes. “Permission isinfinitelybetter when the use of candles and—and”—he lets out a groan as Lou finds the chalk, drawing five long, straight lines upon the table—“pentagramsare involved. What if we knock, and someone else answers?”

Coco pats his cheek sympathetically before joining Lou around the table. “That’s where I come in, I think.”

“Youthink?”

Lou shrugs, thoroughly unconcerned. “It isn’t like any of us have done this before, and without La Voisin’s grimoire to guide us—”

“Any spell in that evil little book is one we should most definitelynotbe doing—”

“You shouldn’t worry, then,” Lou says sweetly, “as we’ve just established this is a spell of our own invention.”

Beau whirls to Reid for support. “You can’t seriously think creating a spell to summon the dead is our best plan of action. Isn’t that the reason we’re in this mess to begin with?”

Reid hesitates behind Lou and Coco, peering down at the pentagram over their heads. Then he turns his apprehensive gaze to me. “You astral projected when you saw your sister in the grotto on All Hallows’ Eve. Could you not, er—do it again to find her now?”

“An excellent idea.” Beau thrusts a triumphant finger in the air. “Go back to the spirit realm and search for herthere.”

My body stiffens.

“Don’t be stupid,” Lou says at once.

“It’s too dangerous,” Coco says at the same time. “We have no idea what Filippa has planned for us. Until we do, Célie shouldn’t go anywhere alone, and especially somewhere we cannot follow.”

Only when Beau mutters his agreement do I relax infinitesimally. Because the truth is—well, I haven’t stepped foot through the veil since All Hallows’ Eve, and the prospect holds even less appeal now.

Thankfully, Odessa waltzes through the door in the next moment, shaking rain from her parasol and slipping a small velvet box from the folds of her skirt. Without glancing up, she undoes the clasp and angles the tip of the parasolintothe box, sliding the entire thing down after it. Though we all gape, she doesn’t provide an explanation for the phenomenon, instead absently smoothing her gown and hair. It cascades down her back like a spill of ink, untouched by the storm.

A drop of blood still clings to her bottom lip.

My stomach contracts painfully at the sight of it, the smell, but she merely wipes it away with a gloved thumb and saunters closer. “Nowthislooks intriguing. Are we conjuring someone?”

Mila darts in behind her, eyes widening in alarm. “What is this, Célie? What are you doing?”

Lou dusts the chalk from her fingers with an air of finality. “We’re summoning Filippa.”

Odessa arches a brow. “Oh?”

Reluctantly, I explain the situation, and when I’ve finished, Odessa considers the pentagram anew, intrigued, while Mila shakes her silver head in disbelief. “This is a terrible idea. Did you learn nothing from your time in Requiem? The dead do not appreciate beingsummoned—”

“We don’t know if Filippaisstill dead. Perhaps she is, or perhaps she isn’t. Either way”—I seize the saltcellar on the mantel, ignoring the others’ questioning looks—“we’ll know more in just a few moments. Now, according toHow to Commune with the Dead, salt contains protective attributes. Scholars would use it to form a circle around the site of their summoning—”

“—to contain occult creatures, yes.” Odessa nods at the general area to which I just spoke. “I assume Mila is here?” When I nod, she claps her hands. “Good. We might need her. Now...” She takes the cellar from me, tipping it to one side to examine its contents. The salt should be minuscule, a sea of white specks, but I can see the sharp, translucent edges of each crystal. They remind me of glass. Of mirrors. “Asweare occult creatures, Célie darling, and as salt does very little to deter us, we can safely forgo it. That should be drawn with blood,” she adds, pointing to the pentagram. “Preferably from a Dame Rouge.”

We all look at Coco, who heaves a sigh and withdraws a small knife from the cabinet behind her. “You might want to leave the room, Célie,” she says grimly.

“More like the house,” Beau interjects.

“Alas”—Odessa discards the salt and plants her hands on her hips in a businesslike manner—“Célie is the only one among us who can traverse the spirit realm, so she must remain.” To me, she adds, “If you insist on continuing your foolish hunger strike, however, I suggest holding your breath and diverting your attention for this next part.”

I scowl at her before doing just that. Apparently, Odessa has anointed herself the leader of this macabre ritual, and as no one has any better ideas—or indeed, any ideas at all—we can hardlyusurp her. “Wait!” Beau’s alarmed voice rings out, and I hear him clap his hand around Coco’s wrist. “Are we just going to—to do the summoning here? Now?”

“When would you prefer we do it?” Coco asks, exasperated. “After Filippa slits our wrists for breakfast? We need to learn what shewants—”

“Célie resisted our blood before,” Beau says fervently. “She can resist again! Coco, please, we shouldn’t be doing this—”

“It is aterribleidea,” Mila agrees.

I hear rather than see Coco disentangle herself. Then she drags the knife tip along her forearm, and my entire body braces at the sound—slick and wet and appalling in how my fangs react, piercing my gums in preparation to feed.Distraction.I search my mind wildly for a distraction. As if waiting for permission, Michal’s face materializes once more.