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Felicia bobbed her head to a brown-haired girl with a thin face, who was surrounded by male relatives. Maybe a fellow pupil from the school? The girl bobbed back. One of the girl’s escorts gave Felicia a long, long look.

She was worth it.

Felicia’s hair was black like mine. Where I was fair complexioned, her skin was a creamy tan.

Her eyes were deep and brown (like her mother’s, I supposed), while mine were blue like our father’s.

Though Felicia now looked her age, middle teens, she’d always been an adult in a real sense because she’d been brought up to fend for herself.

When Eli and I had found Felicia, we’d had no idea she wasn’t exactly the child she appeared to be.

Eli had taken her to San Diego to the school.

She’d been a charity urchin, valuable only because her blood (since she was Rasputin’s illegitimate granddaughter, as I was, courtesy of our father) would keep the tsar alive.

He had the bleeding disease, for which there was no cure.

Felicia seldom needed to donate to the tsar these days. Another bastard grandchild, Ruslan, was the usual donor.

My sister was not only a strong grigori, she was also a pretty good cook and a fair shot and a medium-skilled knife thrower.

(Some lessons just don’t take.) She could kill and butcher a chicken or a deer quite handily now, after I’d given her lessons.

She could make a bomb and throw it accurately, which she really enjoyed and had taught herself.

In fact, Felicia could blast people into walls with her magic.

A blond woman in her midtwenties strolled up to us, her entourage—two tough-looking men I identified as professional guards—hanging back. She was slim and hard, dressed to kill. She spoke directly to my sister. “Fraulein,” she said. “If I may talk to you?”

Felicia nodded, wary and doubtful.

“I’m Hilde Bergen, from Berlin, Germany. I want to make your acquaintance.”

“Felicia Karkarova Dominguez,” my sister said, not extending her hand. People with magic do not shake. Another bit of etiquette I’d learned.

“I’ve heard great things about you. I hope we find time to talk this week.” Bergen smiled, displaying a lot of white teeth.

Felicia had obviously never heard of Hilde Bergen, and just as obviously didn’t feel the urge to make a date to talk. “We’ll both be busy this week,” Felicia said with a small smile. “But I’m sure we’ll see each other at some party or another.”

“I’ll make sure that happens,” Hilde said.

That sounded kind of threatening. Felicia’s polite smile vanished. After an awkward pause, both parties started walking again.

That had been more than a little odd.

Felicia dropped back to walk beside me. I thought she’d say something about Hilde Bergen.

Instead, she said, “I miss Peter, today especially.” Eli’s younger brother, Peter, had adored Felicia, and she had been fond of him—just not as much as he’d wanted.

His death had knocked her for a loop—all of us, really.

After she’d gotten the news, Veronika had not written to us for two months.

I didn’t know if she’d blamed us (because Peter had died in Segundo Mexia), or if she just hadn’t had the heart to talk to her other son. I still didn’t know.

“We all miss Peter,” I said.

Eli’s brother had been very likable, especially after he’d outgrown some of his impulsiveness. He hadn’t been a great grigori, but he had been a very nice guy.

“I’ve heard some things about the German wizards,” Felicia said, still in that low voice. “I don’t think I—”

But we were interrupted.

“Felicia!” The girl who had spoken was very pretty, dressed to catch the eye in a bright outfit, and properly chaperoned by a man and woman who could only be her parents.

Felicia assumed a bright smile. “Anna!” she said. “How are you?”

The two girls hugged each other, with as little body contact as you could have while you hugged.

“They make a pretty picture together,” Eli murmured.

“They know that,” I said.

“Anna Feodorovna is stupid,” Felix said, and he didn’t bother to lower his voice. Anna heard. I could tell by the way her lips pressed together before they sprang back into a broad, happy smile.

Anna’s parents were standing a little aside. For the first time I noticed Anna’s brother was with them. He was as handsome as Anna was lovely, but his expression wasn’t animated. He was smiling, too, but it was vague and wondering. He reached out to pat Felicia’s hair. “Hello, Felicia,” he said.

“Nikolai, how are you?” Felicia said politely. Her hands twitched, and I knew she was wondering if he’d disarranged her hair. She had a Ginger Rogers grown-out bob look, with the bottom all fluffed up.

“He’d better leave her hair alone,” Eli muttered. He had two sisters and me, so he knew how women feel about their hairstyles.

“He doesn’t know any better.”

“Lucky Nikolai’s good-looking. Maybe some older woman will want him around for sex,” Felix said.

He kept his voice low this time. He didn’t mind insulting able people, but he did not show scorn to the feeble. That was something I could say in Felix’s favor. I added it to the short list.

I spied a woman Felicia needed to pay her respects to. I stepped forward. “Excuse me, Anna, Nikolai, Mr. and Mrs. Feodorov. Felicia’s being summoned.”

Felicia followed my gesture. Tom O’Day, who had long been the lobby watchdog at the Rasputin School, was setting up a lawn chair for Madame Semyonova, the ancient headmistress. Hovering next to her was a red-haired young woman.

“Tom, Callista!” Felicia called, smiling. The redhead waved back, and she seemed just as happy to see Felicia as Felicia was to see her. My sister strode across the grass to the shady spot where Madame was being situated.

Settled into her folding chair, Madame beckoned to Felicia with a hand like a claw. Madame Semyonova might be failing, but she remained the head of the school and was given great respect.

I glanced back at the Feodorovs. They were watching my sister, and they were not happy with the attention she’d been given. Anna had gotten none. But I had to dismiss them so I could listen to Felicia’s conversation with Madame.

“Child, where have you been?” the old woman asked. Her voice was feeble. Madame looked like a skinny bundle of brittle sticks. I hoped she would last through the end of the next school year to see Felicia graduate.

“Good afternoon, Madame,” Felicia said, dipping her head. “Like everyone else my age, I am taking two weeks off for the ball. We are staying with Eli’s mother and her new husband.”

Madame nodded and said, “Have a good time and meet good people.”

That was a neat way to put it.

Madame spied Felicia’s male companions. “Eli and Felix! Are you escorting our star student?”

“Yes, Madame. It’s so good to see you.”

“Why are you two squiring Felicia around the grounds?”

There was a moment of confused silence.

Eli said, “As you may remember, Felix is Felicia’s mentor, and I am her brother-in-law.”

Madame looked doubtful.

“I am married to Felicia’s sister, Lizbeth,” Eli explained. He stepped to one side so Madame could see me.

“It’s good to see you again, Madame,” I said, kind of bobbing my head as my sister had done.

Madame looked at me, her face still clouded. Then she said, “Of course. The gunslinger.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What have you been doing today, Felicia?” Madame said.

“I spent all morning getting ready to walk around here, to give anyone interested a good look at me.” My sister did not mince words.

Madame cackled, and Callista laughed out loud. Tom O’Day almost smiled. That was a stretch for him.

While we three stood by, Felicia had a chat about the school with Madame, Tom, and Callista.

Just when we were about to say our farewells, Madame looked past Felicia directly at me and said, “Remember Klementina?”

I froze. After a little pause to switch my brain to a new track, I said, “Yes, ma’am. I remember Klementina very well. We fought together, and she saved my life.”

I remembered too well.

In my dreams, I was standing on the train platform in Ciudad Juárez in the bright sun, sweating and afraid, knowing I was about to die.

My sister had to get out of the city, had to find safety in San Diego, and Eli had to take her.

The rogue grigoris who wanted to kill every descendant of Rasputin (so the tsar would die from lack of healing blood) were running toward the train station.

There were many of them. The ancient grigori Klementina made the stand with me. There were only two of us.

I saw plenty of blood that day.

I could not remember how many people Klementina and I killed, her with her spells and me with my guns, but I could see them, over and over, falling onto the stones of the plaza around the station, their blood flowing.

In the end, Klementina had been struck with a spell. I’d shot the grigori who’d thrown it at her. Our last enemy was dead, but so was my only ally. I was alone with many dead people. The train had left while the battle raged on. The police must be on their way.

It would have been better to die on the spot than to stay in a Mexican jail.

Klementina had lived long enough to make me invisible so I could escape.

I came back to the here and now with a shocking suddenness. The memory had never been so real before, the grigoris falling to their deaths had never been so clear. I realized Madame had made me have that memory so she could share it.

“So that was how Klementina died,” the old woman said. “Brave to the end.”

“Yes, ma’am, she was a lion,” I said, not managing to get my voice louder than a whisper. But the old woman heard me, and she nodded, and let me go. Felicia, Eli, and Felix bade her farewell. I said nothing. I could hardly wait to get away from her. Madame Semyonova scared the tar out of me.

“Want to tell me?” Eli murmured as we strolled away.