Odessa shakes her head. “She’s not. It’s been sixty years, but I remember my friend. Belle wasn’t afraid of me. This isn’t her.” “But she has the necklace,” Daemon insists, hurrying around the side of the bed to stand in front of me. “And I found this!” He reaches into his back pocket and extracts a paperback copy of Nana’s book. “Look,” he says, pointing at the cover. “Her name is on it.” “That’s not me.” I almost laugh. “Isabelle is my grandmother.”
