Iris reached over and shook hands with me. Her long, black fingernails scraped my palm. Then, moving her lips silently, she rubbed the crows back, once, twice...three times.

Her eyes shot open. "There. It is done. A lovely little revenge. Your brother will have a terrible accident—and he'll never recover."

"Nooo!" I wailed. "No—please! That's not what I want! Take it back! Take it back!"

"Sorry," Iris said coldly. "It's too late."