She was in her sixties, with silver hair worn loose past her shoulders, eyes the color of storm clouds, and the kind of contained power that made the air around her feel thick.
She looked at me the way someone looks at a ghost.
"You're alive," she whispered.
I stopped. "You knew I was supposed to die?"
"I felt it. Three months ago, I felt a Daughter's death." She pressed a hand to her chest. "Your mother's bloodline. I grieved for a week." Her eyes searched my face. "How are you standing here?"
"The Moon Goddess gave me a second chance."
Katherine Wolfe stared at me for a long moment. Then she did something unexpected.
She smiled. Fierce and brilliant and full of teeth.
"Oh, they're going to regret that," she said. "Come in. We have a great deal to talk about."
Her office looked l
