“Sydney sighed and stood up, smoothing her rumpled clothes with dismay. 'I need a coffee shop or something.''I think I saw one in a cave down the road,' I said.That almost got a smile from her.”

“„Ma'am?“She glanced up at me, pushing her glasses up her nose as she did. “Hmm? Oh, I remember you. Miss Melbourne.““Melrose,“ I corrected.“Are you sure? I could've sworn you were named after someplace in Australia.“„Well, my first name is Sydney,“ I said, not sure if I should be encouraging her.”

“She probably gave up and started playing Minesweeper."[...]We reached the cafe and found Sydney bent over her laptop, with a barely eaten Danish and what was probably her fourth cup of coffee. We slid into seats beside her."How's it—hey! You ARE playing Minesweeper!”

“Do you think that's, like, REAL bacon?" I whispered to Sydney and Dimitri. "And not like squirrel or something?""Looks real to me," said Dimitri."I'd say so too", said Sydney "Though, I guarantee it's from their own pigs and not a grocery store."Dimitri laughed at whatever expression crossed my face. "I always love seeing what worries you. Strigoi? No. Questionable food? Yes.”

“Rose scowled. 'I should be the one staying. I should be Jill's roommate. No offense, Sydney. We need you for the paperwork, but I'm the one who's gotta kick anyone's ass who gives Jill trouble.”

“Very good, Mr.—?”“Robinson,” the boy supplied.Ms. Terwilliger produced a clipboard and scanned a list.“Ah, there you are. Robinson. Stephanie.”“Stephan,” corrected the boy, flushing as some of hisfriends giggled.Ms. Terwilliger pushed her glasses up her nose andsquinted. “So you are. Thank goodness. I was just thinkinghow difficult your life must be with such a name. Myapologies. I broke my glasses in a freak croquet accidentthis weekend, forcing me to bring my old ones today. So,Stephan-not-Stephanie, you’re correct. It’s a temple. Canyou be more specific?”...“Indeed it is,” she said. “And your name is?”“Sydney.”“Sydney …” She checked the clipboard and looked up inastonishment. “Sydney Melbourne? My goodness. Youdon’t sound Australian.”“Er, it’s Sydney Melrose, ma’am,” I corrected.Ms. Terwilliger scowled and handed the clipboard toTrey, who seemed to think my name was the funniest thingever. “You take over, Mr. Juarez. Your youthful eyes arebetter than mine. If I keep at this, I’ll keep turning boys intogirls and perfectly nice young ladies into the descendantsof criminals.”

“I think we got in more trouble with Aunt Tasha,ʺ said Christian. ʺShe was kind of pissed off that we didnʹt tell her what was going on. I think she probably wanted to blow up the statues herself.”