I pushed the spoon to the bottom of the bowl, crushing the cereal trapped beneath the utensil to mush. Why couldn’t she just let it go?

Harmony, my fourteen-year-old daughter, bopped out of her bedroom and bent over the oversized porcelain water fountain that dominated the entry to our unconventional home-a circa 1900 high school.

I took that chance to watch her, to breathe, relax. She was healthy, happy, and blissfully unaware her mother had been sneaking off in the middle of the night to tote a dead body far away from her protected little world.

The water fountain sputtered, spraying her blouse. Mumbling under her breath, she flounced off to the bathroom, but not before shooting me a “look.” Harmony didn’t appreciate the eclectic charm of the place as much as I did.

For once her teenage attitude helped me relax. I smiled, my eyes clocking each of her angry steps.

She popped into the bathroom, and I dipped my spoon into the cereal.

“She needs to be training.” Mother nodded toward my daughter.

My tiny bubble of calm was instantly burst. I had enough things to stress about right now-like dead Amazons being deposited on my doorstep, all but gift wrapped. I didn’t need Mother bringing up this old chestnut.

Through the open door of the guest bath, converted from half of what used to be the girls’ restroom, I could see Harmony rolling a line of lip gloss across her mouth. She pushed her lips into a playful pout, then smiled at her reflection.

“She is training-to be a girl.” I gave Mother a drop it now look. As usual, it had absolutely zero effect.

“She’s past puberty. Her powers…”

I narrowed my eyes, my fingers tightening around the spoon. “What powers?” At Mother’s bland stare, I continued, “Priestess powers are supposed to skip one generation, not two. If anyone was going to get Bubbe’s powers, it would have been me and, as you know, my priestess skills are more than just a little lacking.” I held my gaze steady, just long enough to let Mother know I wasn’t going to back down, then shrugged as I continued, “So far as artisan or warrior talents, if those appear we’ll deal with it. She probably won’t even need special training. Besides…” I smiled, just to tick Mother off. “She might be a hearth-keeper.”