“He ordered it from someone in San Francisco who makes them.”

“I love it! What a nice gift.” Her smile faltered. “Now I have to get him something?”

“It would be the polite thing to do, yes.”

“What do I know about teenage boys?”

“Enough to encourage this stupid infatuation, apparently,” I complained.

“He realizes I’m teasing about the ‘boyfriend’ comments.”

“You know he’s using one of those pictures he took of you on the boat last month as the screensaver on his laptop? God only knows what else he’s done with it. Probably photoshopped your head onto some porn star’s body.”

Her thin lips tilted in a slow smile.

“It’s not funny,” I said. “Get him a movie gift card. His feelings are going to be crushed if you don’t do something.”

She dropped Jupe’s present inside the pocket of her gold and black coat. “Technically, my dad is Jewish, you know. I am under no obligation to participate in this holiday.”

“I thought Judaism was passed down through the mother.”

“Well, my mother is a Taoist, so I’m covered either way.”

“You said your mother always puts up a Christmas tree in Hong Kong!”

She sighed heavily. “Can’t you just put my name on a gift you’ve already bought? I’ll pay you back.”

“Maybe if you tell me more about this ‘surprise.’ ”

“No can do. I’m the official secret-keeper. Jupiter trusts me.”

I muttered to myself, but was reminded about a certain secret of my own that I needed to spill. I had no idea how she was going to react; even if Lon thought she’d accept my real history, I wasn’t completely convinced. I’d been lying to her for years. Had plenty of chances to come clean, but never did. I was worried that she’d hate me for keeping the lie alive so long, but I was terrified that she’d be so disgusted by the truth that she’d want nothing more to do with me.

But I couldn’t risk Dare telling her first. And, you know, since I’d conjured that vision of my mother on the beach—if it really was a just a figment of my Heka-soaked brain—maybe my subconscious was trying to tell me to stop running.

To move on.

“Hey, I need to talk to you about something,” I said, a little nervous.

“Oh?”

“Maybe after closing, we can go grab some food at Black Cherry . . .” I began, but my words trailed away when I noticed the Santa’s Village rejects had stopped at the end of the bar. The big-eared elf boy had a pale green halo and was anxiously looking around while his reindeer friend—who sported a military buzz cut under fuzzy antler head boppers—hoisted his backpack onto a barstool and unzipped it. Looked like he had a big metal can inside.

“What the hell is that smell?” Kar Yee said. “Is something burning?”

Shit. My new protective wards around the door. The sigils were glowing like embers. Not exactly a blaring warning. Guess that’s what I got for experimenting with unknown magick.

My focus flew to the costumed kids. Reindeer Boy stuck a small metal bar at the edge of the can. He was prying a lid off.

A paint can? Panic raced down my spine.

“Hey!” I shouted, striding toward him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Hurry!” the elf said as he unzipped his coat and pulled up a pair of bulky black goggles hanging around his neck.

The silver can floated up from the open backpack into the air. Telekinesis. I saw it all the time in the bar, but most Earthbounds who possessed this knack were only able to lift the toothpick umbrellas out of their Mai Tais—not heavy cans of paint.

Reindeer Boy made a motion with his hand and the can tilted in midair. A thick wave of red paint sloshed across the floor in front of the barstools. Kar Yee shouted incoherently as it sprayed across the bottom of her pants.

I acted on instinct. My hand reached for the winged caduceus I kept behind the bar—a full-size one, several feet long—but Reindeer flicked a hand in my direction and the carved staff flew out of my reach, sailing across the bar before crash-landing against an empty high-top table.

I’d never seen that kind of telekinetic range. Never!

“Now, idiot!” Reindeer Boy shouted to his gangly blond companion as he snapped on his own pair of goggles.

The elf-painted Earthbound shut his eyes. A disconcerting pop! crackled through the room. The TV went black, along with the nets of white lights and the Easter Island lamps at the booths.

He’d shorted out the electricity. All of it. The bar was pitch black, except for the soft unearthly glow of green and blue halos, and a patch of dull street light that filtered in through the stained glass window by the door.

Panicked shouts rang around the black room.

“Everyone stay where you are and you won’t get hurt,” a voice said. Reindeer Boy. His halo gave him away. Three red dots switched on around his googles—around his friend’s, too. Night vision goggles.

“You. Bartender.” Something slid across the bar top. I thought it was his backpack, but I wasn’t sure. “Open up the register and put everything inside that.”

A fierce rage caught fire inside my chest.

“They covered up the binding traps with the paint!” Kar Yee shouted.

Bold. And stupid. I didn’t need the damn binding traps anymore. Without electricity, they were no good to me anyway. I could just summon up the Moonchild power. But then I thought of my mom’s appearance at Merrimoth’s beach house . . . and hesitated. Only for a moment, but it must’ve been too long for Kar Yee, who didn’t know about my extracurricular talents. In her mind, my caduceus staff was across the room, and the binding triangles were compromised with paint.