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words.
    Instead Nadia sat through a family dinner, nodding when her dad spoke and laughing at her little brother’s silly jokes, keeping everything she really felt on the inside. No matter what she heard or said, the voice in her head just kept repeating, You can never be what you were before.
    Never again.
    “Mom? Dad? I’m going out!” Asa called.
    The Prasads were not his parents. They had been the parents of a boy named Jeremy, who had been arrogant, sexist, spoiled, and cruel. Asa knew this had not given Elizabeth the right to murder him and then hand his body over for Asa’s use. But the guy had been so nasty that Asa didn’t feel too bad about it.
    He made a good Jeremy, in his opinion. Better than the original. Already Asa had pulled up Jeremy’s GPA, despite having to balance homework with his service to the One Beneath. (Teachers were unlikely to accept excuses signed by the lord of hell.) Although Jeremy’s old friends had mostly dismissed him as “no fun anymore,” virtually everyone else Asa interacted with seemed happily surprised by his transformation from a raging asshole to . . . well, okay, to a demon dedicated to the destruction of the world they knew, but a polite one.
    As Asa slipped into his black jacket, Mrs. Prasad appeared in the mudroom, affectionately petting his shoulder. “You’ll be in by curfew?”
    Jeremy’s curfew was absurdly late—and yet Asa had the impression it had been observed more in the breach. “Sure. Of course.”
    She beamed. “While you’re out, I might make some snickerdoodles. You used to love those when you were little!”
    Apparently Mrs. Prasad felt nothing but love for him—and it was at moments like this when the guilt threatened to creep in. Thinking of this new family and the way Mrs. Prasad adored her son reminded him of the sister he had lost so long ago that he could hardly remember her face. . . .
    “Cookies would be great,” Asa said. He forced himself to smile back. “Thanks.”
    It was a relief to finally be out on the streets, walking through Captive’s Sound. Although the trees were almost entirely bare of leaves now, their naked branches clawing at the cloudy sky, there had been no snow since Thanksgiving. Asa was one of the very few people who knew that had happened for a reason.
    Soon they would all know , he thought. Not even the most skeptical human in Captive’s Sound could fail to recognize what was about to come.
    When he reached Elizabeth’s house, she already had the spell prepared, which was just as well. Asa didn’t like seeing her kill things. Not that he liked looking at crow entrails either, but better the aftermath than the event. He only hoped she’d been quick about it. As he stepped over the birdguts on the floor, he said, “Love what you’ve done with the place.”
    Elizabeth ignored this. She was immune to humor, he thought, like virtually every other human emotion. “Nadia should be with you.”
    “Was I supposed to pick her up? Nobody told me about the car pool.”
    “The summons should be as clear to her as it is to you, but she has not answered.” Instead of being ticked off, though, Elizabeth seemed oddly . . . satisfied. Now what’s that about? Asa wondered.
    Then he heard Nadia’s footsteps outside, and she hurried into Elizabeth’s house, cheeks flushed, as though she’d run here. She lifted her chin as though in defiance, but stopped when she saw what was left of the crow.
    Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “You ignored my call?”
    “Of course not. I’m here,” Nadia said. “But what—what are we doing with that?”
    “Death provides the ingredients for some of the work we do. You should know that by now.” Elizabeth sat on the floor, in what seemed to be the only area free of broken glass and dust. With his boot Asa kicked away a clear spot for himself; as Nadia made her own place, Elizabeth continued, “These sorts of spells are delicate. More complicated than you might think.”
    Nadia