They'd been so close. It had been working to their advantage. But, as usual, they'd been bested by those American orphans and their infuriating nanny. All it had taken was a head-butt and a few cloves of nutmeg to make the world feel like it was spinning out of control. Natalie leaned over her mother, her breath caught in her chest. Isabel lay sprawled before her, still as death…

No. Don't think about it like that.

But she couldn't help it; the immobility and the red smears made it hard to focus on anything else. Staunch the blood, she ordered herself. Blindly, she slipped off her designer coat and bunched it up on her mother's forehead. She didn't even cringe at the sight off the stains on the Prada.

"She's bleeding." Her voice sounded like it was echoing from far away. "Please, can you help me?" A small, sane part of her winced at her pleading tone. She, Natalie Kabra, heir to the Lucian branch, asking the Cahill orphans for assistance? It was absurd. Mother would sneer at the very thought.

But it was Mother who was in danger now. Anyone who could help was a friend to Natalie.

The nanny gave Isabel a quick check. "Her pulse and breathing are fine. But that gash may need stitches." Natalie froze, her eyes wide with horror. "Stitches?" she whispered, voice quavering, "You mean …a scar?" She didn't know why the idea seemed so horrendous now, when so many things could have gone worse. A scar was nothing compared to a broken limb or a concussion or…or death. Yet all Natalie could think of was how angry her mother would be when she discovered the Cahill orphans had led her into a trap and disfigured her face. It would be terrible, worse than any of the other incidents, and there were many…

The girl, Amy, and her nanny were discussing something, but Natalie didn't pay attention. She was too stricken by the broken body of Isabel to listen to trivial conversation. It was only when Amy began rolling up her mother's sleeves that she realized – they were searching for the Janus fang. Natalie relaxed under a wave of relief. At least they wouldn't find that. "The fang. Where is it?" Amy demanded. Natalie stared at her in silence, her heart pounding. This was one secret she refused to let go of. "You want us to search her? We can do that," the nanny threatened. Natalie recoiled inwardly at the thought of more harm being inflicted on her mother, but stayed resolutely stony. Her final chance of pleasing her mother wasn't getting away. "Give me a minute?" Amy's gaze flickered from the nanny to her brother. Her eyes, Natalie randomly noticed, were uncannily like Grace's...

As soon as Daniel and the nanny were a safe distance away, that jade gaze was on Natalie. "I need that fang," Amy's voice was quiet but surprisingly firm, "If your mother starts, we'll have to knock her out again, and that wouldn't be good for her. Tell me where it is and we'll help you get her to a doctor." Ha. Did she really expect Natalie to believe that? Of all the Cahills in the clue hunt, Amy and Daniel had most reason to despise Isabel Kabra. She'd tried to kill them more than once. More than thrice, even. Her dismiss would probably give them reason to rejoice. There was more chance of Mother handing over her clues than there was of them helping. "She might already have a concussion," Amy pressed, "The longer we sit here, the worse it is for her." Natalie bit her lip and glanced down at the unconscious figure before her. A concussion was bad, but a furious Isabel was worse. "A trade," she finally blurted out, "You have the dragon she wants. I'll give you the fang, you give me the dragon." Amy shook her head. "I can't do that."

Natalie wanted to scream. It was so unfair. Why did she have to bargain like this? Why did her mother have to be out cold? Why did she even have to be part of the clue hunt in the first place? It was all too much for her. Not for the first time, she wished she was a normal eleven-year-old with a normal family who did normal things. She would rather be anyone but herself at the moment. Amy, the nanny, Daniel…

No. Not Daniel. She'd never go that far.

Natalie lifted her jacket off her mother's wound. The bleeding had stopped, to her immense relief. The gash looked terrible, though. "She's going to hate having a scar. Do you think makeup will cover it?" She could tell from one glimpse at Amy's face that the girl thought she was crazy. She felt crazy, blubbering about insignificant subjects with so much at stake. "I don't know much about makeup," Amy said slowly. She began speaking quietly about her deceased mother. "There are so many things I never got to do with her." Natalie didn't take her eyes off her own mother's face, but there was a lump in her throat. "Shopping," she managed to choke out, "That's what my mum and I do together mostly."

What she would give to be with a smiling Isabel, buying a pair of new Gucci shoes…

"Yeah. I'll never get to go shopping with my mom," Amy looked down. "That's just awful," Natalie whispered. She fought with a sudden urge to hug her mother. What would it have been like if she could barely remember her own parents? She was close to tears now. She swallowed hard and squeezed her bloody jacket.

"Natalie, please," Amy's voice was calm but pleading, "Your mom needs to get someone who can help her."

Or else she might die. The thought sent a wave of desperation surging through Natalie. "Promise?" she stammered, literally mangling her jacket, "Promise you – you won't hurt her anymore if – if I -"

"I swear," Amy interrupted.

Natalie wanted to believe. She had to believe. She scuffled around the pockets of her mother's trousers and pulled out the fang. It was like a dream, a nightmare worse than even the propeller one. She was giving over the fang to Amy. She was handing over the Janus clue to Amy Cahill. It was insane. It was bizarre. Isabel would be outraged.

But, deep down, despite what Mother had drilled her into thinking, Natalie was relieved. So what if Amy now had the wolf fang? Her mother was safe, and that was all she truly cared about. Because clues or no clues, it was family that really mattered.