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Contents

ChapterOneChapterTwoChapterThreeChapterFourChapterFiveChapterSixChapterSevenChapterEightChapterNineChapterTenChapterElevenChapterTwelveChapterThirteenChapterFourteenChapterFifteenChapterSixteenChapterSeventeenChapterEighteenChapterNineteenChapterTwentyChapterTwenty-OneChapterTwenty-TwoChapterTwenty-ThreeChapterTwenty-FourChapterTwenty-FiveChapterTwenty-Six

ChapterTwenty-SevenChapterTwenty-EightChapterTwenty-NineChapterThirtyChapterThirty-OneChapterThirty-TwoAcknowledgmentsAboutSaraWalsh

ForMike.Always.

ONE

There have been strange lights in Crownsville for as long as I’ve lived

here. Lights on the Ridge; lights on the river; lights that seep from thegroundandthenfloattotheskyincloudsofcoloredmist.Noonereallytalkedaboutthem.Noonereallycared.

Untilnow.

*

The patrol cars parked on the corner of Birch andMain were the firstthingInoticedwhenI leftworkthatnight.Afterwhathadhappened inthe neighboring town of Onaly that morning, I wasn’t surprised. ButseeingthecopsinCrownsvillestillgavemethecreeps.

The second thing I noticed was Rusty, my car, parked with hisheadlightsglaring.Igroaned.

“Mia...Whydidyoudothat?”Itriedtorememberevenswitchingthemon,butcameupblank.That

prettymuchsummedupmyday.Itwasnineo’clock,whichmeantRusty’scrappy battery had been draining for three solid hourswhile I’dwaitedtables at Mickey’s. Having only just liberated him from Reggie West’sMotorRepairandSalvage—Rusty’ssecondhome—adeadbatterywasthelastthingIneeded.NowIwouldprobablybestuckherewhileJaywaitedformeattheBakers’.Pete,asusual,wasnowheretobefound.

IheardthedoortoMickey’sopenandclosebehindme.AsIrummagedthroughmybagformykeys,Greg, thenightmanager, steppedontothesidewalk.

“YouleftRusty’slightson,”hesaid,statingtheobvious.“Yeah.”Icontinueddigging.Someofthestuffhadbeeninmybagfor

months: spare socks; a million tissues (mostly used); a cigarette lighter,thoughIdidn’tevensmoke.IsworetoclearthepurseoutassoonasIgothome. Imean, howmuch crap does a seventeen-year-old really need to

carryaround?“Andyouforgotthis,”saidGreg,passingmemyjacket.“Thanks,Greg.” I took it fromhimwithonehandas Ipulledoutmy

keyswiththeother.“Somethingonyourmind,Mia?You’vebeentwitchyallevening.”I glanced at the cops, parked on the side of the road. “It’s theOnaly

thing,”Isaid.“Haveyouheardofanythinglikethishappeningbefore?”“Intheseparts?Can’tsayIhave.Butsomeone’stakingthosekids.”He

shookhishead.“Fivegoneinsixmonthsandallwithinfiftymilesofhere.”Ididn’tneedreminding.ThemediacalledthemtheCrownsvilleKidnappings,butonlyoneofthe

boyswho’dvanished,seven-year-oldSimonWilkins,hadactuallylivedintown. Crownsville was a hub for the small towns and farms thatsurroundedit.Thiswasthereasonthereweremorethanfifteenhundredstudentsenrolledatschool.Occasionally,kidswentmissing,buteveryoneknew where they were—Omaha, Kansas City, Sioux Falls. They bailedwhen they’d had their fill of rural Nebraska. But this wasn’t the samething.Theboywho’dvanishedfromOnalyCrossingthismorningwastenyearsold,thesameageasmyhalfbrother,Jay,sodon’ttellmehe’dgonelookingforanewlifeinthecity.

“I’vegotjumpercablesinthetruckifyouneedthem,”saidGreg.WhichIinvariablywould.Ihadnoonetoblamebutmyself.Hewalkedmetothecar.Islippedintothedriver’sseat,pattedRusty’s

dash—a sacred ritual—and turned the key. The engine wheezed, thenroared.ItwasthebestnewsI’dhadallday.

“Theseoldhomegrownbeautieslastalifetime,”saidGreg.HeslappedRusty’shood.“Seeyoutomorrownight,Mia.”

Darkhadfallenthickandfast.BythetimeIturnedoffMainStreet,I’dswitched onmyhigh beams. Itwas a couple ofmiles to theBakers’ onrural roads that had seen better days. Having once mangled a rim in apotholedownhere,Ikepttothespeedlimit.

I’d gone about amilewhenmyphone burst into “The Star-SpangledBanner.” That meant one thing—my best friend, MissWillie Burkett. Ipulledovertotakethecall.

“Howwaswork?”sheasked.Willieneverwastedtimewith“hello.”“Usual crowd,” I replied. “I swear the place is some kind of alternate

dimension.”

She laughed. “Have you spoken to Pete about this weekend at thelake?”

Icringed.“Haven’tseenhimyet,”Isaid.Intruth,Ihadnoideawherehewas.“Wills,IpromiseI’lltalktohim.Justdon’texpectmiracles.”

“Youhavetobethere,Mia.Andyisdefinitelycoming.Thisisachanceforyouguystofinallygettogether.”

Iwasn’tsosure.AndyMonaghanwasadrop-deadgorgeousseniorwhodrove a black Corvette that came straight from the showroom of hisfather’s dealership.We’d comepretty close to dating a couple of times,buteachtimesomethinghadgottenintheway:Andy’sbrokenleg,hisex-girlfriendmovingbackintotown,meandSeamusMcEvoy—amonth-longfling I’d rather forget.ButnowAndyhadbrokenupwithhis girlfriend,andWilliesaidhe’dbeenaskingaboutmearoundschool....

“I’llaskPeteassoonasIseehim,”Isaid.Ipickedimaginarylintoffmyjeans.“ButI’mwarningyou,Wills;hehasn’tbeenaroundmuchlately,andIcan’tleaveJaywiththispsycholooseonthestreets.”

“Peteneedstosorthissorryassout,”Williemuttered.True,butIdidn’tseethathappeninganytimesoon.Islumpedinmyseatandturnedmyheadtothewindow.Thelightson

Rowe Boulevard were faint in the distance. Across the open fields, thetrees that bordered the elementary school were silhouetted against thenightsky.Iwatchedtheiroutlinesswayinginthebreeze,resignedtothefactthatIwasalwaystheonewhohadtobackoutofourplans.

“...andifhedoesn’tshapeup,I’mgonnaspeaktoDadaboutitagain.”IrealizedWilliewasstilltalking.“Don’tyoudare,”Isaid,catchingthetailendofherthreat.Agenuine

threat.Willie’sdadwasCrownsville’ssheriff.“It’sneglect.”“It’sPetebeinguseless.Totallydifferent.”“Iguess.”Shesighed.“Comeoverandwecanfiguresomethingout.”“Ican’t,”Ireplied.“I’vestillgottopickupJay.”Silence followed and I knew we’d strayed into difficult territory.

Somewherealongtheline,WilliehaddecidedthatIhadtheworld’smosthorrendous life. You couldn’t blame her;my dad had abandonedme atbirthandmymomwas inprison. I’d livedwithmygrandmother inDesMoines until I was eight. When she died, I was shipped here, toCrownsville,Nebraska,tolivewithUnclePete,mymother’sbrother.Pete

wasn’t themost attentiveguardian,but thingsweren’t thatbad. IprettymuchdidwhatIwanted.ButitalsomeantthatJay,who’dlivedwithusfor the past six years, had no one toworry about himbutme. Iwasn’tafraidtostepuptotheplateandtakecareofJay.Iwasanhonorsstudent,had a 4.3 GPA, played volleyball and soccer, and still waitressed threeshiftsaweek.Iwasdoingfine.

ResignedtoWillie’slecture,Istaredoutofthewindow.Andthenthelightcaughtmyeye.Atfirst,Idismissedit,thoughtmaybeitwasthebeamfromaflashlight.

Iwas parked onRoute 6, and the lightwas far out, somewhere on theopenlandbetweenmeandRowe.ItwashazyinthefaintglowofRowe’sstreetlights,butdefinitelythere.

I rolled down the window for a closer look, squinting through thedarkness.Thebeamhadwidened,andIwassureIsawpastelshadesinthelight.

“Youthere,Mia?”“Yeah,”Isaid,though,ofcourse,Iwasn’t.Whateverwasouttherehad

myfullattention.ItwaslikeareflectioninoneofthosecrazymirrorsattheStateFair—youexpecttoseereality,butwhatyougetisindistinctandunreal.“Willie,I’llcallyouback.”

“You’repissedatme.”“Coursenot.”Iwatched,mesmerized.“I’llcallyouback.”Hangingupthephone,Isteppedoutofthecar.Thelightdancedinthe

breeze, the colors deepening. Red and blue and gold, the shades werevibrantagainstthesurroundingsilverymist.

As I tried to rationalizewhat Iwas seeing,maybe fireworksormarshgas,myperipheral vision caught a shadow low to the ground.Amovingshadow,closetothe light. Itdriftedtothe leftand,suddenlyfreeofthelight’s glare, took form. It was a figure, hooded and cloaked, though Iknewitmustbeatrickoftheeye;therehadbeennothingbutthelightasecondago.Aloneonadesertedroad,withwhoknewwhatoutthereinthefields,IbackeduptoRusty.

Themoonbrokefreeofthedriftingclouds.Andthentheyweregone.Thelight.Theshape.Theybothvanished.Mildly spooked, I climbed back into the car.Whatever had been out

therewasn’ttherenow.Itwasjustthesameoldfields.Thesameoldlights

onRowe.Still,Ilockedthedoorbehindme.By the time I reached the Bakers’ to pick up Jay, I’d banished the

incidentintothe“crazystorytotellWillie”category.Mrs.BakeransweredthedoorwiththewidestsmileI’dseenindays.Shealwaysmademefeelwelcome.Shrieksandscreamscamefromsomewhereinsidethehouse.

“They’re slaughtering orcs in the living room,” she said. “Come onthrough.”

IheadedintofindJayandhisbestfriend,StaceyAnn,sprawledontherug,Wiicontrolpadsclutchedintheirhands.BothturnedwhenIentered,Stacey staring through those horrific glasses that magnified her eyes totwicetheirnaturalsize,Jaybrushinghiswildmopofcurlyhair fromhisface.Pictureanypaintingofacherub.That’sJayStone.Rightdowntothechubbybabycheeksandwidepuppy-dogeyes.It’sclearweonlysharedafather;myhairwaschocolatebrown,Jay’swasmorecreamycaramel.

Igotachirpy“Hi,Mia,”fromStaceyAnnandalonggroanfromJay.“Iloveyou,too,”Isaid.“Timetolockandload.”AsJaypackeduphisWii,Mrs.Bakersawmebacktothedoor.“Thanks

againforwatchinghim,”Isaid.“Pete...”Ipaused.WhatcouldIsay?ThatPetewasprobablyoffdrinkingagain,

infecting the world with his soul-sapping outlook on life, when he’dknownI’dhadtowork?OrthatI’darrivedhomefromschooltofindJayaloneagainatthehousewiththedoorunlocked?AndOnalyCrossinglessthanaten-minutedriveonthehighway...

“Ijustdon’tlikeleavinghimalonewith—”Mrs. Baker put her hand to my arm. “He’s welcome here, Mia.

Anythingyouneed.Anytime.Justcall.”Iofferedherarelievedsmile.“Thanks.”Jayburst intothehallwaywithStaceyAnngluedtohisside.“Ready,”

hesaid.Igrabbedhiminaheadlock,thenmarchedhimthroughtheyardtothe

car.Rustystartedonthefirstturn.“That isn’twhy it starts, you know,” said Jay, his feet up against the

dashboard.“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean,”Ireplied,innocently.“Thatstupidtappingthingyoudo.It’sjustacar.”Irevvedtheengine,grinningeartoear.“Hasn’tfailedmeyet.”“Yet,”saidJay.HewavedtoStaceyAnnaswepulledaway.

By the time we arrived home, I was ready to call it quits. Onlyhomework waited on my desk. Jay had other plans. We’d no soonerenteredthekitchenthantheWiiwasoutofhispack.

“Holdononeminute,”Isaid.“Homework.”“DiditatStaceyAnn’s.”I’dheardthatonebefore.He tossed a piece of paper onto the kitchen table. It was a detailed

pencilsketchofourhouse.MemoriesflashedassoonasIsawit.ItwasthesameassignmentI’dhadwhenIfirstmovedtoCrownsville.Iremembereditclearly.

Myartteacher,Mrs.Shankles—CankleShankles—hadinstructedustodrawourhomes.I’dsatintheyardwithmysketchpad.Afewlineshere,a few lines there. Porch.Windows. A couple of bushes, a couple trees.Howeasywasthat?

But Cankles had been far from impressed. “You haven’t tried, Mia,”she’dsaid.“There’snodetail.Nolife.Iknowyouhavemoreinyou.”

Idon’tthinksheeverrealizedhowdeeplyItookthosewords.I’d hid my grade from Pete, not that he’d been remotely interested.

ThenI’dtakenmysketchpadbacktotheyard.I’dsat.I’dlooked.I’dtriedtofeelthehouseanditsland.Overthenexttwohours,I’ddrawnitagain.AndMrs.Shankleshadbeen right; therewas somuchmore to see.Thewraparoundporchsanktotheright.Thewarpedwhitesidinghadfadedtogray.Thegreenpaintontheshutterswaschipped.Thewalnuttree.Thegravel driveway. I’d never noticedhowmuchdetail therewashere.Butfromthenon,Isawit.Fromthenon,IstoppedthinkingaboutGrandmaandDesMoinesandstartedlivinginCrownsville.

I lookedat Jay’sdrawing.He’dalreadynoticedwhathadtakenmesolongtosee.

“That’s awesome, Jay,” I saidproudly,but tactfully. Jaywasn’tbigonfuss.“Youshouldgotoartcampthissummer.”

Jaywasriflingthroughthesnackdrawer,completelyunimpressed.“Artcamp?”heblurted.“Toobusywithbaseball,Mia.”

Ilaughed.Jaywasakidwhoknewexactlywherehewasgoinginlife.IoftenwishedIwasmorelikehim.

Iwaitedatthekitchentable,thepictureinmyhandasJayheadedupto his room. Therewas a lot I didn’t get about theworld, but nothingshocked me more than what had happened to Jay. Jay’s mom was my

dad’ssecondwife,andJayhadlivedwiththemuntilDadbailedagainandthewifetookrevengeonhimbydumpingherfour-year-oldsonwithPete!Imean,wheredothesepeoplecomefrom?AtleastJayhadourdadforatime,Iguess.Iwouldn’thaveknowntheguyifhe’dhitmeovertheheadwithamallet.

So, though Jay was my dad’s kid and, therefore, not actually Pete’sblood, Pete had takenhim in too, and I’d gained the brother I’d alwayswanted.Don’t getmewrong.Petewasprettymuchuseless.Buthehadsaved Jay from a lifewithout family, andhe’d givenme a family in theprocess.

IplacedJay’spictureonthetable,thenheadedfortheshowertowashthescentofMickey’sfriedchickenoutofmyhair.I’dbarelysettledintostudywhenthesoundofPete’struckbroughtmetomybedroomwindow.

Pete stood in the driveway, takeout bag in one hand, six-pack in theother.Helookedoutoverthemoonlitcornfieldsthatborderedourland.His shoulderswereback,his chinwasup, and though I couldn’t seehisface,Iknewhisgazesweptthosefields.

I frowned. It was so unlike Pete, who invariably stumbled when hearrivedhomethislate.Iquicklyscannedthecornfield.Therewasnothingthere.YetPeteremainedfixatedonthehorizon. I rememberedthe lightandtheshadowinfrontofRowe.

“Maybewe’rebothcrackingup,” I said tomyself.But Iwondered if Iwasn’ttheonlyonetohaveseensomethingstrangethatnight.

TWO

Thenextmorning,IfoundPetestaringatthephoneonthekitchentable.

Helookedlikehehadn’tslept.“Wherewereyouyesterday?”Iasked.“Omaha.”Betternottoask.IwasprettysureIdidn’twanttoknowthedetails.I headed for the fridge. Two twenty-dollar billswere pinned beneath

themagnetonthedoor.Rightaway,Iknewtheyweremine.Ialwaysgavesomething toward the housekeeping fund and Pete always gave it back.WhateverPete’sproblems,hehadmoney.Ididn’tknowwherehegotit,andIdidn’task.AllIknewwasthattherewasfoodinthefridge,andthatJaygoteverythingheneeded.Healsogotalotofwhathewanted.

Makingnocomment about the cash, I grabbedayogurt anda spoon,thenreturnedtothetable.IsatacrossfromPete,hatingthatIwasabouttosoundlikeabrokenrecord.“Only,youdidn’ttellmeyou’dbeout,”Isaid.“JaywasherealonewhenIgotbackfromschool.He’dleftthedoorunlocked.IhadtocalltheBakers.Again.Youknowhowthingsarerightnow.”

Petedidn’tlookup.“Shotgun’sinthecloset,”hemuttered.Yeah.LikeI’dblowsomeguy’sbrainsout.WouldJay?Maybe.Ididn’t

knowwhichwasascarierthought.Ipushedtheyogurtaside.“Ineedtotalktoyouaboutthisweekend.”Petelookedup.HehadthebrightestblueeyesofanymanIknew,but

thatmorningtheyweredefinitelygray.Hishairwasdark,likemine,butitwas so greasy that it appeared to be black. He’d probably once been agood-lookingman.He stillwas, I guess, just disheveled, a little batteredaroundtheedges.Hecertainlylookedolderthanthirty-eight.Rightnow,helookedaboutseventy.

“Theguysareheadingtothelake,”Isaid,“butIcan’tgoifyou’renothereforJay.”

“I’llbehere.”Fartooeasy.“Imeanreallyhereforhim—notjustpresentinsomeformorother.”“I’llbehere,”hesaid.“We’lldosomething.Bowling,maybe.”Pretty sure I’d heard right, I subtly sniffed for booze, but came away

withcoffee.“Then I’ll tellWillie,” I said. It soundedmore like a question than a

statement.Itookmyuneatenyogurttothesink,allthetimekeepingoneeyeon

Pete should he keel over fromwhat, for him,was an overabundance ofhumanity. He’d gone back to staring at the phone. There were twocrumpledlinesinhisforehead.TheyonlyappearedwhenPetewasdeepinthought.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, wondering what had brought on thisstrangemood.Maybehe’dlostmoney,maybehe’dbeeninafight.

“Anotherkiddisappearedyesterday.”Wow.Petecaringaboutsomethingotherthanhisdrinkingbuddies.“Iheard,”Ireplied.“OnalyCrossing.WhydoyouthinkI’msofreaked

aboutJay?Imean,seriously,Pete.Onaly’stenminutes—”“InCrownsville.”Ispunbackfromthesink.“What?”Peteagainlookedup.HiseyessparkedwithanemotionIcouldn’tpin

down.Whenthemusclesinhisjawtensed,Irecognizeditasanger.“Lastnight,”hesaid.“AlexDash.”Thatcouldn’tberight.“AlexDashfromJay’sclass?”“Doyouknowanyothers?”TheDashesateatMickey’severyThursday—today.Ipicturedthemin

their usual booth by the window. They always got the chicken special,family style. Four pieces of white meat, all you could eat of the dark.Mashed potatoes.Green beans.Cinnamon rolls. They always seemed sohappy....

Mystomachturned,thenewsslowlysinkingin.“Twoinoneday.Thekidnappermusthavecomehere fromOnaly.Whatabout theotherkid,Pete?Whatdidhedowithhim?”

Pete didn’t offer a theory.He pointed to the phone. “Sheriff Burkettcalled late last night for volunteers.We’ve been scouring the town, theriver,theRidge.There’llbearealsearchnowthatthecopshaverolledin.”

I’dheardthephoneringing late lastnightbuthad just thought itwasone of Pete’s cronies trying to lure him back to the bar. Now Iremembered the patrol cars on the corner of Birch and Main. Maybethey’dknownthatthekidnapperwascruisingourstreets.ThankGodI’dsentJaytotheBakers’.Itwasfartooeasytoimaginehimherealone.Thedoorunlocked. Jay, as always, oblivious to everythingbuthisWii.Overthesoundofhisgame,hewouldn’thearsomepsychoinchintothehouse,checkingthekitchen,grabbingaknife....

Myskincold,IpicturedJayinAlex’splace,lockedinsomeguy’strunk.“Ishouldstayhomeandhelpsearch.”

Peteshookhishead.“Yougetofftoschool,Mia.Youneedtokeepupthosegrades.You’regonnahavecollegetothinkaboutsoon.”

College? I couldn’t think of anything but Jay, the Dashes, and theThursdaynightchickenspecial.

“WhatdowetellJay?”Petesighed.“PrincipalShanklesiscallinganassemblythismorning.”CankleShankles—theartteacherwho’dtaughtmetoopenmyeyes.I

couldn’tthinkofabetterpersontobreakthenewstothosekids.I patted Pete’s shoulder on my way out of the room. Now that the

initial shockhadworn off, Iwas touched that he’d been thinking aboutthingsliketakingJaybowling,mygrades,college....Iturnedbackatthedoor.“Aboutthisweekend,Pete.”

Petemadeasmallsmileandthathandsomefaceappeared,eradicatinghisusualweariness.

“Yougo to the lake,Mia,”he said. “Iwon’t let Jayoutofmy sight. Ipromise.”

*

OnlythearrivalofthepresidenthimselfcouldhaveknockedAlex’snameoffthelipsofthestudentsatCrownsvilleHigh.

“They’re talking about a curfew,”Willie announced. “For everyone.Ustoo!”

We were camped in the cafeteria with our boy buddies, Kieran andSeth.Seth’sfamilylivednextdoortoWillie’s,sotheyoftensharedridestoschool.Hewasalso totallybesottedwithWillie. Icouldn’tpicture themever getting together; it’d be too twisted, a bit like dating your brother.Besides, theyweren’twhatyou’dcallagreatphysicalmatch.Sethwasa

littleshorterthanme,maybefive-five,five-six.Ontheotherhand,Willie,our reigningqueenof volleyball, at six-one,with longblackhair, alwaysmadeastatement.

WillieandIhadbeenfriendssincemyfirstdayofschoolinCrownsvillewhenwe’dbeenteamedtogetherduringMusicandMovementtodepictwinter. As the other teams hadmelted their way through summer andfrolickedthroughspring,WillieandIhadbeenstruckwithahystericalfitof the giggles. Immediately banished to “time-out corner,” it was afriendshipformedfromsolidarity.Notmuchhadchangedsincethen.

Afterhearinghernews,Sethallbutcollapsed inhis seat.Hecoveredhisheadwithhishands,hiseyesonWillie,asalways. “Curfew?Butthisguy’safterkids.”

“Ifitisaguy,”saidWillie.“Itcouldbeachildslaveryring.”“Oronescrewed-uppsychowho’sclearlynotinterestedinus.They’re

notputtingmeundercurfew.Noway.”“Thecopsobviouslyknowsomethingthey’renotsaying,”addedKieran.

Heleanedbackinhisseat.“Iwonderifanyone’smentionedittothenewkid.”

Willie bolted upright, and a smug grin inched across Kieran’s face.Willie’sreactionwasexactlywhathewanted.

“Excuseme,”shesaid,cuppingherearfornews.“Newkid?”“Startedthismorning,”Kieranreplied.Asfarasgossipwasconcerned,Kieranwastheworstkindoffishwife.

HewasknownaroundschoolastheSkunk,onaccountofapatchofgrayonthesideofhisblackhair.Hetouchedthepatchwheneverhewasabouttospillajuicysecret,justashewasrightnow.

Intrigued,Ileanedintohim.“Whichgrade?”“Ours,” said Kieran, “though Raquel Somers said he looked older.

Apparently, he’s related to the Crowleys. He’s staying with Old ManCrowleydownbytheriver.”

“In that old shack?” askedWillie. “Crowley’s completely insane. AndhereIwasthinkingnoonecouldhaveafamilyworsethanMia’s.”

Iblewherakiss.“Youshouldtakehimcookies,Mia.WelcomehimtotheDysfunctional

FamiliesofCrownsvilleClub.”“We’vealreadyreachedourmembershipquota,”Ireplied,thenquickly

changedthesubject:“Isthiscurfewgoingtoaffectthelakethisweekend?”

Williethrewupherhands.“Iforgottotellyouaboutthelake!”“That’swhat I love about you,Willie,” saidKieran.Hewaved at the

neighboring table of freshmen who were now staring at us.“Understatement.”

“Thelake’soff,”saidWillie,andstuckouthertongue.“Andycan’tgethis dad’s boat, which means none of his group wants to go. They’reheadingtotheRidgeinstead.”

Ididn’tmissthelookthatpassedbetweenKieranandSeth.“Sowhat’sthatgottodowithus?”saidSeth.“I don’t know what it’s got to do with you,” Willie replied. “But it

meanstherestofusareRidgeboundtoo.”“BecauseAndyMonaghansaysso?”“Because Mr. Monaghan and Ms. Mia have to hook up before he

graduates. It’s fated. The stars are aligning. This is the time when theyfinallygettogether.”

IlookedatSethandshookmyhead.“She’sdelusional.”“Or right,” Willie replied. She pulled from her bag a dog-eared

paperback, one of themany soppy romances she devoured on a regularbasis. “Meant to be,” she said, andwaved the book,Destiny’s Dilemma,beneathmynose.

I groaned. According to Willie, all love was fated, and she wasdeterminedtoprovethisbymatchmakinganysinglepersonwhocrossedher path. It had never made much sense to me. Fate is fate, right? Itshouldn’tneedahelpinghand.

Ofcourse,thisgrandviewofromancedidn’tapplytoherownlovelife.Then shewasmore like, “That guy’shot. I’mgoing to askhimout.” I’dneverhadthatkindofconfidencewithguys.NordidIbelieveinfate.

IhatedtoburstWillie’sbubble,butAndyandIgettingtogetherwasalong shot. I really likedhim,but a lothadhappened since the last timewe’d almost gone out. Andy could have any girl he wanted. He wasunlikelytostillbeinterestedinme.

Kieransnorted.“Willthey,won’tthey?Whatdoesitmatteriftheyputusunder curfew? Imean, do you really think they can catch the guy intwodays?”

“Dad has the whole town looking,” said Willie. “Seems Alexdisappearedalittleafterninelastnight.Thatrat-dogoftheirsgotout,andhewentafterit.”

“Sohewasclosetohome,”saidSeth.“LastseenheadingbehindtheelementaryschoolonRowe.”Andyforgotten,Istraightened.“Atninelastnight?”“Or thereabouts. Mrs. Dash isn’t in a state to remember much of

anything.”ButIremembered.IthadbeenataboutninewhenI’dseenthelightin

thesamearea.Myheartkicked.Maybe someone had really been there, someone with a flashlight,

someonekidnappingAlexasI’dstoodthereandjustwatched!No.Itwascoincidence. Had to be. I couldn’t go to Sheriff Burkett with something likethat.HadIevenseenanythinganyway?

Irecalledhowthemoonlighthadappearedfrombehindthecloudsandthen,nothing.Notruck;novan;nohooded,cloakedshadow.CertainlynoAlexDash.Butifthatwaswherehe’dlastbeenseen...

Ialmostscreamedwhenthebellrangforhomeroom.KieranandSethhadalreadywanderedaway.

“Relax,Mia,”saidWillie.“Therewon’tbeanycurfew.I’dmakeDad’slifetoomiserablebeinghomeeverynight.”

Wegrabbedourbagsandenteredthetideofbodiesthatstreamedintothehallway.MymindremainedfixedonthefieldsbyRowe.

“Sinceyoumentionedthelake,”saidWillie.“DoesthismeanyouspoketoPete?”

“Yeah,” I replied, though suddenly it didn’t seem so important. “He’sgonnastaywithJay.Heeventalkedabouttakinghimbowling.”

“Holycrap.Peteactinglikeaparent?”I doubted Willie’s disdain for Pete would ever die. Sure, he wasn’t

abouttowinany“UncleoftheYear”awards,buthe’dsteppedupwhenit’d mattered, and that meant more to me than him being there forbedtimestoriesandbakingcupcakes.

“He’sdoinghisbest,Wills,”Isaid.Williestopped,statuesqueamidthe jostlingcrowd.“Mia,whydoyou

alwaysdefendhim?”IrecalledPete’sfacethatmorning,rememberinghisconcernaboutmy

gradesandcollege.“Becausehe’smyuncle,”Isaid.“Andifhehadn’ttakenusin,Idon’tknowwherewe’dbe.”

*

TheDashesdidn’tcometoMickey’s,andtheboothatthewindowstoodemptyallnight.IcaughtGreglookingthatwayacoupleoftimesduringtheshift.Heshruggedandofferedmeahalfheartedsmile.

“Ican’tbelieveit,”hesaid.“Tenyearsold.”Mickey’swasquietallevening,butfortheusualcollectionofwaifsand

strayswhoheldcourtatthebaratthebackoftherestaurant.Thankfully,Petewasn’twiththem.HeandIhadanunwrittenrule:HeneverdrankatMickey’swhen Iwas on shift. Seeing him loadedwith this crewwouldhavebeenfartoodepressing.

By eight thirty, Rich Manning, who’d been Crownsville High’shomecomingking in1982orsomething,hadhadfar toomuchtodrink.HegrabbedmyarmasIpassedthebar.

“Fetchmeabeer,Mia.”GettingstuckwithRichwasthelastthingIwanted.“YouknowIcan’t

servebeer.Greg’llbebackinaminute.”“You look old enough tome,” he said. Leering, he patted the empty

stoolbesidehim.“Comeon,Iwon’ttell.”Gross.SometimesIhadtoremindmyselfwhyIworkedhere.IglancedatGusMason,who’dbeenpatientlylisteningtoManningfor

mostofthenight.Gusshookhishead.“You’vehadenough,Rich.LetMiagetonwithherwork.”

“Used to be you didn’t have to ask for a fresh beer in Mickey’s,”grumbledManning.

“Usedtobeyouknewwhenitwastimetogohome,”Gusreplied.Gushadbeen inCrownsville since, Idon’tknow—theStoneAge.He

livedontherivernearOldManCrowley.Gusranaferryalongtheriverinsummer. Itwaspopularwithhikerswhocame towalk thewoods alongtheRidge.WillieandIwouldsometimesjumponforacoupleofbucks,butIdon’tthinkGusmademuchmoneyatit.Itwasjustsomethinghe’dalwaysdone.

“Whole place is going to the dogs,” said Rich. “Whole town.Wholecountry!”

Gladtogetoutofhisreach,IheadedforthenearbywaitstationwhereIbegantofoldnapkinsfortheweekend.Richcontinuedtogripe.

“Usedtobeeveryoneknewwhereeveryone’skidswere.Notnow.It’sthe lights, Gus. Nothing good ever happens when the lights come toCrownsville.”

AssoonasRichmentionedlights,Ilookedacrosstothebar.Don’tgetme wrong, Rich Manning wasn’t what I’d call a reliable source ofinformation.Butstill,Ikeptmyearsopen.

“Andwhatlightswouldthatbe?”askedGus.“Youknowtheones.UpontheRidge,outontheriver.Saw’emmyself

acoupleofnightsago.”“Isthatafact?”saidGus.“FromwhatIheard,youwasinhereacouple

ofnightsago.Nowonderyousawstars.”Heglancedinmydirection,justasIstifledasmile.Hewinked.

“It’sthealiens,Gus.Fedsknowallabout’em.IbettheFedsknowwhathappenedtothosekids.”

“Thatmustbeit,”saidGus.“Aliens.”“I’veseenthelightsontheRidge.”Gus setdownhisbeer. “Rich,youhaven’t seenanythingmore thana

bitofSaintElmo’sfireorwill-o’-the-wisp.Maybeyousetfiretoyourownfartbutweretoodrunktorealizeit.”

Icoveredmymouth,strugglingnottolaughoutloud.“UFOs,”Richcontinued,undeterred.“ComingherefromNewMexico.

CIA’sgotfilesonit.AsktheCIAwhathappenedtothosekids.”“I’llbesureto,”saidGus.Heyawned.“Whenthey’renextintown.”Aspathetic asRichManningwas, I thought aboutwhathe’d said for

therestofmyshift.Whateverithadbeen,Ihadseensomethingthenightbefore.Maybeitwassomethingimportant.WithAlexstillmissing,itwastimetocomeclean.

Attheendofmyshift,IcalledWillie.“Isyourdadhome?”“Justgotback.Misseddinnerandeverything.What’sup?”“Ineedtotalktohim.”“Aboutwhat?”“Willie,I’mnotevensure,butI’llbringchicken.”“Then I guarantee you’ll have his undivided attention. I’ll tell him

you’recomingover.”Willie was looking out for me when I pulled up on her family’s

driveway.“What’sthebignews?”sheasked,assoonasIleftthecar.NotconvincedIknewanythinghelpful,Ishrugged.“It’sjustsomething

Isawlastnight.It’sprobablynothing.”TheBurkettslivedclosetothecenteroftowninCrownsville’s“Historic

District,” which was basically one long, tree-lined street. Dreaming ofcentral air andherownen suitebathroom,Williehadbeenbeggingherparentstomovetothenewsubdivisiontheywerebuildingtothewestoftown. I preferred this house with its overgrown trees, brick front, andlavendershutters.OvertheyearsthatWillieandIhadbeenfriends,ithadbecomemysecondhome.

SheledmetothekitchenwhereSheriffandMrs.Burkettwereseatedatthetable.Assoonasthesheriffsawmyboxofchickenandpotatoes,hegesturedmeover.

“That’sthekindofgirlIlove.Comesitdown.”The sheriffwas aman’sman—tall and athletic likeWillie but, unlike

Willie,blessedwithahealthydoseofgoodsense.HedotedonWillie,anddoted on me as if I were a long-lost daughter. No amount of wishfulfillment could evermakeme imagine thatmy dad could be anythinglikeSheriffBurkett.WhenIthoughtofthesheriff,Ithoughtofbarbeque,touchfootball,andgood-naturedlecturesaboutboysandspeeding.WhenIthoughtaboutmydad,Ipicturedweasels.

Mrs.Burkettfetchedplates,squeezingmyshoulderasshepassed.Shewas asunlikeWillie as the sheriffwasWillie’s double.A little over fivefeet,shewasfair-hairedandsoftfeatured.Arealcountrymom.

“Sowhat’sthisabout,Mia?”askedthesheriff,puttingsomechickenonhisplate.“NotPete,Ihope.He’sbeenwithuslookingforAlexallday.”

IglancedatWillie,sittingexpectantlybesideme.“It’snotPete,”Isaid.“ButitisaboutAlex.IthinkIsawsomethinglastnight.I’mnotreallysurewhatitwas,soIdidn’tknowifIshouldsayanything.”

“Alwaysspeakout,”saidthesheriff.“And,believeme,weneedallthehelpwecanget.Kidjustaboutvanishedintoair.”

Inmymind, I tried to rehearsewhat Iwanted to say, butwhicheverwayIlookedatit,itstilldidn’tmakeanysense.“IthinkIsawsomeoneonthe land behind Rowe,” I finally blurted. “Someonewith a flashlight. Itwasdifficulttotell.IknowAlexwaslastseenoverinthatdirection.Thiswasaboutthesametime.”

“Whatwereyoudoingoutthere?”askedSheriffBurkett.“Heading to the Bakers’ to pick up Jay.” I glanced atWillie. “It was

whileIwastalkingtoyou.That’swhyI’dpulledover.”“Iwonderedwhyyouwentallweirdonme,”saidWillie.“Ithoughtyou

weremadaboutPete.”

“Somethingwasoutthere.”Thesherifftookabiteofdrumstick.Hewipedgreasefromhismouth.

“TheBakers’.SoyouwereonRouteSix?”“Yeah,” I replied, relieved he appeared to be taking me seriously.

“AlmostparalleltotheelementaryschoolonRowe.”“AndyouthoughtyousawAlex.”“No,”Isaid.“Someoneelse.”Thesheriffleanedforward.“Someonewithaflashlight.”How to explain the light without sounding like Rich Manning? The

holesinmystorywidened.WhatexactlyhadIseen?Prettymuchzip.“Itmighthavebeenaflashlight,ormaybeaflare.”“Whatwouldsomeguybedoingouttherewithaflare?”askedWillie.“Itonlylookedlikethat.”“Well, it’s something,” said the sheriff. “We combed that land pretty

goodtoday.Didn’tfindathing.I’llsendanotherteamatfirstlight.”We polished off the chicken, talking of other things, including the

infamouscurfew,whichthesheriffhintedmightexcludethehighschoolkids,atleastfornow.WhenIfinallyreachedhome,Iwasreadyforbed.

I pulled up to find Pete on the porch swing, looking out over theGartons’ fields,whichbackedup toour land. Itwasquiet, tooearly forthefirstoftheseason’scrickets.Thehousestoodindarknessbehindhim.

“You’relategettinghome,”hesaid.“IswungovertoWillie’s,”Ireplied.“ThenyoumusthaveheardtheupdateonAlex.”“Yeah.”Iheadeduptheporchsteps,unsurewhyPetewassittingoutin

thedark.Aswithmost thingswithPete, itwasbetter not to ask. “RichManningwasinMickey’s.Hesaysitwasalienabduction.”

“RichManningdoesn’tknowhisassfromhiselbow.”True.Ismiled.“Jayhome?”“He’sinhisroom.”Ifoldedmyarmsandlookedoutoverthefields,rememberingPeteon

the driveway last night.Whatever he’d seenwasn’t there now, nomorethanwhatI’dseenonthelandbehindRowe.Justthemoon,thestars,andthecorn.AlwaysthesameinCrownsville.

“I’mgonnahitthesack,”Isaid,andheadedforthedoor.Pete juststaredintothedistance.Hewaspoised,as ifatanymoment

hemight vault over the porch railing and hurtle off into the fields.HeleanedslightlyforwardasIpassed,andastheswingtiltedbeneathhim,Isaw something that confused me more than his late-night vigil. A dullshape,previouslyhiddenbytheshadows,restedonhislap.

ItwasPete’sshotgun.Frowning, Ienteredthehouse, flickedonthekitchenlight,andsidled

across to the window. All I could see was the back of Pete’s head, theporchandthedriveway,andathickwallofblacknesscoveringthefields.

THREE

Friday.OnedayuntiltheRidge.Williewasplottingagain.

“Andylovesred,”shesaid.Wesatonthe lawnbesidethegymduringlunch, trying to avoid the chaos of the cafeteria. “Sowear those skimpydenimshortsandaredtee.Gorgeous.”

I figured itbestnottosayanythingaboutmyreservationsand justgoalongwithWillie’s plans.Whatever happenedwould happen—probablynothing.IdoubtedaredT-shirtwouldmakeAndycollapseintomyarms.

“Wills,youdo realize it’s justanafternoonon theRidge?” I stretchedoutonthegrasshopingtocatchafewrays,especiallysinceitlookedlikeI’dbewearingshortsthisweekend.

“JusttheRidge?”shereplied,outraged.“Mia,let’swaitandsee.”“Waitandseewhat?”Kieranslungdownhisbackpackanddroppedto

thegrass.“Heardaboutthenewguy?”“Yeah,”Isaid.“HelivesontheriverwithOldManCrowley.Didn’twe

coverthisyesterday?”Kierangesturedforsilence.“Apparently,hehasahugetattoo.”“What?”criedWillie.Realnews.Iscrambledupontomyelbows,eagertohearmore.“Yeah,”saidKieran.“Onhisback.It’smassive.MikeWoolleysawit.”Willie shook her head, clearly not buying it. I half suspected it was

because she hadn’t been the first to know. “And how exactly didMikeWoolleyseethenewkid’sback?”

“Inthelockerroom,”saidKieran.“Everyone’stalkingaboutit.”“Everyoneexceptus,”Iadded.“Whyarewealwaysthelasttoknow?”“Beatsme,” saidWillie. “Sodoes this tattooednewkidhave a name?

Youknow,Istillhaven’tevenseenhim.”“Yeah,”saidKieran.“Sol.Whatkindofanameisthat?”Ilaughed.“Thesunnykind?”“And,”Kierancontinued,“hedoesn’tknowhowtoplaybaseball.”

“Again,”saidWillie.“What?”“Nolie.They’rerunningpitchingdrills,andthiskid’slookingatCoach

Wright likehe’s fromanotherplanet!Watchout for thisguy. I’mtellingyou—he’saweirdone.”

Weirdornot,Iwasgratefultothenewguyforonereason:Withoutusevenseeinghim,he’dmanagedtodistractWillie’sattentionfrommeandAndy.

*

Thatevening,Iwashedmyjeanshortsandironedmyredtee.Okay,soIwasplayingitcoolinfrontofWillie,butIwasgoingtobeseeingAndysothere was no harm in a little prep. You know, like hair serum, a newlipstick,legwax.Thatkindofthing.

On my way back from the bathroom, I tapped on Jay’s door. SinceAlex’sdisappearance,hehadprettymuchbeenkeepingtohisroom,andIwasworriedhowhewastakingthenews.Ipokedmyheadintofindhimathisdesk,inbattle,asalways,onhiscomputer.

“Hey,Spud.Kickingbutt?”“Tryingtofinishthislevel,”hereplied,thumbsgoingcrazy.“MindifIcomein?”Heshookhishead,butcontinuedplaying.I’dneverbeen into all those gameswith swords and stones and stuff.

Life was crazy enough without axe-wielding maniacs bludgeoning eachother to death. There were guys at school who played these games forhours. Therewas even a club, I think. Tome, it was all just noise andcomic book violence. And where were the women in these things?Lamentingthelossoftheirmenfolkandgallivantingaroundinfurbikinis.

I sat on the end of Jay’s bed just as a purple-horned behemothcondemnedhisavatar toeatingdirt. Iwasabout toaskhimaboutAlex,whenInoticedaphotographbesidemeonthecomforter.Itwasanoldershot, in color but grainy, of a young woman with mountains in thebackground. Her dress was kind of folky, like from the seventies orsomething,withbillowingsleevesandabodicefront.Blondhairhungtoherwaist.Her eyeswerewide like Jay’s, but therewasno innocence tothem.Theyweresadeyes.Sadeyesinagorgeousface.

Iflippedoverthepicture,lookingforacaption,butthebackwasblank.Iturneditbackover.

“What’sthis,Jay?”Jayglancedawayfromhismonitor.“Mom.”Ididn’texpectthat.So thiswas thewomanwho’ddumpedJay. I’dnever imaginedheras

youngandbeautiful,more likeagnarlyhagwithacigarette inonehandand a bottle ofmalt liquor in the other. But there she was, young andbeautiful.Shedidn’tlooklikeapersonwho’ddosomethingsocruel.

I remembered nothing about my parents—nothing. I’d been a babywhenthey’dleftmewithGrandmainDesMoines.ButJaywasdifferent;he’dknownourdad,thoughherarelymentionedhim.He’dknownwhatitwasliketohaveamom,too.

“Where’dyougetit?”Iasked.“Always had it.” The colors from the game flickered on his flawless

cheeks.“Ikeepitinmydrawer.”“Doyourememberhermuch?”“Bits.”Ilookedagainatthepicture,staringdeeply.Ifeltlikeshewaswatching

meback.“Whatwasshelike?”“Don’tremember,”hereplied.“Ionlyrememberwhentheytookher.”I looked up, chilled by Jay’s statement. He believed that she’d been

taken?Wasthathowhecopedwithwhatshe’ddonetohim?“Shegaveyouup,Jay,”Isaid,softly.“Onlybecausetheytookher.”Hepausedhisgame,thenturnedtome.

“Stacey Ann’s brother said the cops were hanging around your schooltoday.Whywouldtheydothatiftheman’sonlytakingkids?”

I saw the connections forging in his mind. He believed an unknownassailanthadsnatchedhismom.Maybesomeoneelseclosetohimcouldbenext?

“Jay,it’sjustaprecaution.”“Staceysaidhe’sonlyafterboys.”“Whichiswhyyouhavetobecareful,”Isaid,desperateforthemessage

tosink in. “Lockthedoorwhenyou’rehomealone.Nomore, ‘I forgot.’Makesureyou’rewithsomeonewhenyou’reonthestreet.”

“Iguess.”“I’mserious,Jay,”Isaid.“NooneknowswhathappenedtoAlex.”“He’sgoneforgood.”“IsthatwhatStaceyAnnsaid?”

“Mrs.Shankles.”“Mrs. Shankles said he’s gone for good?” I considered reevaluatingmy

opinionofoldCankles.“No,”saidJay.“ButIcouldtellthat’swhatshemeant.”Jay’salteregowasbackinbusinessonthescreen.Goldenstarsglistened

arounditssword.Thepurple-hornedbehemothranforcover.“They’regonnafindhim,Jay.”“Andtheotherkids?”IopenedmymouthtoreplyandrealizedIdidn’thaveananswer.Theavatarboundedovercreeksandbouldersbeforedeliveringthefatal

blow. The behemoth, purple horn and all, vanished in a puff of silversmoke.Jayagainturnedbacktome.

“Areyougoingouttonight?”heasked.Iplacedthephotographbackonthebed.“I’mstayinghome,”Isaid.His

lookofreliefjustaboutbrokemyheart.Ihiditbehindasmile.“AndPetesayshe’stakingyousomewheretomorrow.Maybeevenbowling.Canyoubelieveit?”

“It’snotmybirthday.”“So make the most of it.” I headed for the door. “I’m gonna make

popcorn.Youwantsome?”“Thanks,Mia.”Jayturnedbacktohisgame.Though I usually avoided thinking about my parents, sometimes I

couldn’thelpit,eventhoughitwaspointless,ridiculous,andatotalwasteoftimeandeffort.Motherswereusuallyanoff-limitstopicofconversationatourhouse;mineinparticularwasguaranteedtosendPetestraighttothebottle. Shewas a nasty little secret lurking inmy past. I guessed Pete’ssilence had something to do with the reason why his sister had beenthrowninjail.Whateveritwasmusthavebeenbad;she’dbeenthereforallofmylife.Ididn’tknowwhere.AndIknewnottoaskanymore.

ButhavingseenthephotoofJay’smom,Icouldn’thelpwonderaboutmy own. Before bed that night, I went tomy closet’s top shelf, a spotWilliecalledtheBlackHoleofCrownsville.Frombeneaththemountainsofshoeboxesandsweatshirts,Itookdownabluevelvetbox.Iplaceditonmydeskandopenedthelid.

Insidewasanecklace,theonethingIhadofmymother’s.I don’t knowwheremymotherhadgotten it, itwasprobably stolen.

PetehadgivenittomenotlongafterI’darrivedinCrownsville.Itwasaweighty antique piece of twisted silver. Seven blocks of a translucentgolden stone, like amber, hung from the ornate chain. The central gemwas larger than theothers, almostasbigasmypalm.Crimsonveins ranthrougheachstonelikethoseold-fashionedmarblesyoucouldfindatthefive-and-dime. I held up the necklace, and the lamplight caught in theveins.Theyglistenedlikecrimsonrivers.

Isighed,annoyedwithmyselfforeventakingitoutofthebox.Itwasprobablyapieceofjunk,justlikealltheotherjunkmyparentshadthrustintomy life. I couldn’t bear the thought of Jay nurturing hope that hisownmothermightreturnonedaytoclaimhim.Sometimesitwasbesttojustwalkaway.

Iplacedthenecklacebackinthebox,aweightliftingassoonasIclosedthe lidand itwasoutof sight. Iwandered to thewindow.A littlemorethan amile away stood theRidge, hidden in darkness.On a clear day Icouldsometimesseeitfrommyroom.Myparentswereghoststome,butoutthere,ontheRidgewithAndyMonaghanandthepromiseofsummerspreadingbeforeme?Thatwasreal.

Icouldn’twaittogetuptheretomorrow.

*

Therewasonlyonethingtodoafterasweatygameoftouchfootball,andthat was to hurl ourselves into the cool river. After swimming, WilliecaughtuptomeasweclimbedthesteepbouldersbacktotheRidge.Shewasinatriumphantmood.

“Andy can’t take his eyes off you,” she whispered, after quicklycheckingthatwewouldn’tbeoverheard.

Really?IglancedtowhereAndyandhisbestfriend,Jake,alsoclimbedthe rocks. I didn’t know if therewas such a thing as too perfect, but iftherewas,Andywas it.Hewas like anAbercrombie&Fitchmodel, allstraightwhiteteeth,perfecttan,andgroomeddarkhair.Itdidn’thurtthathe’dstrippedoffhisshirttoswim.CoachWrightclearlykepthisseniorsinshape.

I’d sworn Iwas just going to enjoy the day and not get sucked in toWillie’s drama,which couldonly lead to a truckloadof disappointment.ButIwassurprisedhownervousI’dfeltsincewe’dpulledupatthebaseof theRidge to finda shinyblackCorvettealreadyparkedon thegravel

lot.WillieandInavigatedthefinalbouldersbeforeemergingontothewide,

flat plateau at the top of the Ridge where the rest of the group wassprawledbeneaththesun.TheRidgewasoneofCrownsville’sbest-keptsecrets.ItwasallthatremainedofahumongouscraterthathadformedinabouttenbillionBC.

To the east, the plateau ended abruptly, plunging down to the river.Woodlandborderedthegentlewesternslope,overwhich,onadayasclearastoday,youcouldseeacrosstheplains.Ourbackstotheriver,wesankto the grass with legs outstretched. The sun hovered above the SleeperHillGiant,thelongmoundoutsideOnalywithaflatpeakthathaderodedintotheoutlineofamansnoozingbeneaththesky.

“Justkeepdoingwhatyou’redoing,”saidWillie.“It’llwork.”“What’llwork?”Iasked,determinednottocheckbackonAndy.“Pretendinglikethisisallnobigdeal.”AndherewasIthinkingI’dplayeditcool.“AmIthatobvious?”“It’salegitimatetechnique.”Ilaughed,giggledreally,asifWillieandIwerebackintimeoutcorner.

“You’dthinkhewasthehottestguyontheplanet.”Willielaughedback.“DefinitelyinNebraska.”ShejumpedupbeforeIcouldsayanythingmore,leavingmeforKieran,

whowastryingtoimpressSallyMachin,oneoftheseniors,withabizarrecombinationofkickboxingmoves.Wonderingwhyshe’dsuddenlybailedonme,IwasabouttocallherbackwhenAndyappearedatmyside.

“Yourockedthatgame,Mia,”hesaid,beaming.Hesatbesidemeonthegrass,riverwaterdrippingfromhisshoulders

andhair.Thetemptationwastogrinlikeanidiot,whichIoftendidwhenAndywasaround.Hewasjustsolaidback.Iguessedhisconfidencecamefrom living on a pedestal surroundedbyhis father’s cash.And itwasn’tonly the studentswho’dputhimup there;everymother in townhopedhe’d date their daughter and spread some of those Monaghan dollarsaround.Andyalsohadgreatshoulders,thebroad,muscularkindIloved.Itwashardtofocuswhentheywereonfulldisplay.

“MaybeIshouldtryoutfortheschoolteam,”Isaid,smilingback,andtryingtoignoreRaquelSomers,oneofAndy’screwwho’dbeenafterhimsince kindergarten,watchingus fromher towel a few yards away.Andyshowednosignthathe’dnoticed.Heshiftedtofacemefullon.

“IfeellikeIhaven’tseenyouinages,”hesaid,hisswoonyeyesthecolorofmeltedchocolate.“How’sJay?”

“He’sgood,”Ireplied,myvoicecalm.IwassurprisedhoweasyitwastoslipbackintoAndy-mode.Thelast

time we’d talked alone had been atWillie’s birthday party about threeweeksago.ButAndyhadbeentherewithJessica,andhe’dappearedveryconscious of that fact.Now itwas only us.Willie and the others didn’tcount.Wewereinourownlittleworld.

Hescrapedbackhishair,waterdropletsglisteningonhisshoulders.IfIweretosurvivethisconversationintact,IneededhimtoputonaT-shirt.Stat.

“Jay’sagreatkid,”hesaid.“Areyougoingtothebattingcageswithhimagainthissummer?”

Igroaned.“Everysummer.Jayrocks.Isuck.Totalhumiliation.”His laughterechoedacross theRidge. “Thenmaybe I could takehim.

Jaycracksmeup.It’dbeahoot.”Itriedtofigureouthisintentions.Heappearedtobeplayingthesame

casualgameasme,butstill.JayandIhadbumpedintoAndyandJakeatthecagesacoupleoftimeslastsummer.We’dallhungout,JayshowingofftotheolderguysandAndyandJakeegginghimon.ButAndyactuallyofferingtotakeJaytothecages?Myheartpickedupitsbeat.

“He’dlovethat,”Isaid.“Imean,goingwithsomeonewhocanactuallyhitaball.”

Andyleanedbackonhishands,musclespoppingallovertheplace,ashelookedoutovertheplains.“YouheardaboutmeandJessica.”

Myheartracedalittlefaster.Itwasdifficulttoknowhowtorespond.Wewerefriends,andfriendstalkedaboutdatingandbreakupsandallthatwent with it. It didn’tmean anything. Of course I knew they’d split—everyoneknew.Sowhywashementioningitnow?

No.Iwasreadingtoomuchintothings.Andy’dofferedtotakeJaytothecagesbecausehewasareallyniceguyandhewasintosportsandheknew Jay didn’t have a brother or anyone to look up to like that.He’dmentioned Jessica because itwas big news, not because he’dwanted topushthathewassingle.I’dspenttoolonglisteningtoWillie’sfairytales.IlikedAndyalot.I’dneverdeniedit.Thatdidn’tmeanAndyfeltthesamewayaboutme.Didit?God,Iwasuselessatthisstuff.

“Ionlyheardthatyou’dbrokenup,”Isaid.

Andy turned to facemewith those chocolate eyes and that chiseledjaw.Hewasabouttospeakwhen—

“OMG!”holleredRaquel.Cursingherbigmouth, Iwatchedherdash to the edgeof theRidge.

Completely uninterested in the drama, I looked back at Andy, silentlyurginghimtocontinue.

“OMG!”Andysmiled,dismissingwhateverhe’dbeenabouttosaywithashake

ofthehead.“Ithinkshewantsustofollowher.”Great.Whydidsomethingalwaysgetintheway?“I’mserious!”screamedRaquel.“Getoverhere!It’sthenewguy!”

FOUR

Holysix-pack,”blurtedWillie,hereyebrowsalmost inherhairline. “Or

shouldIsay,twelve-pack!”Solwalked along the opposite side of the river in sneakers and jeans

withalong-sleevedteetiedaroundhiships.Imadenocomment,asAndyhad followedmeto theedgeof theRidge,but the truthhadtobe told.Wenowhadanotheritemtoaddtothelistofthingsweknewaboutthenewguy:

1.HelivedontheriverwithOldManCrowley.2.HisnamewasSol.3.Hehadasmokingbody.SolhadmusclesIhadn’tknownexisted.Andtheyweren’tbulkygym-

muscles,either.Theywerelean,real-lifemuscles,thekindthatcamefromswinging an axe all day. Andy was tall, but even from across the wideriver,IcouldtellthatSolwastaller.Andywasbroad.Solwasbroader.

“Whycan’twestayanotheryear?”drooledRaquel.“I’dgiveupcollege.I’dgiveup everything.”She lookedatWillie. “Youguysare so lucky;wedon’thaveanyonelikethatinourgrade.”

IglancedatAndy,butthoughtitnotthecoolestmovetodisagree.Jakewasalreadywanderingaway.“Youknow,guysgetalltheflakfor

havingone-trackminds,”hesaid.“Girlsarefiftytimesworse.”Iwonderedifmaybehewasright.I likedtothinkIwasmasterofmy

hormones, but between what was standing at my side and what wasstalkinghalf-nakedalongtheriverbank,Ididn’tknowwheretolook.

Solstrolledon.Hewasnowdirectlyacrossfromus,hisdarkhairturnedgoldenbrownbythesun,shouldersback,headtiltedinourdirection.

“DidyouhearheliveswithOldManCrowley?”askedSally.“Onceortwice,”Williereplied.“Youknow,Ihaven’tseenCrowleyfor

ages.”Assoonasshementionedit,everyoneagreed.“Maybehe’s sick,” saidSeth.HeglaredatSol. “Maybe that’swhy the

IncredibleHunk’scometostay.”“YoumeanSol,”saidWillie,dreamily.“Likethesun.I’veneverwanted

Mondaytocomesofast.Wehavetogethisschedule.”“He’sinmychemistrylab,”saidKieran.“Andyoutellusthisnow?”gaspedWillie.“Sounfair!”Shegrabbedmy

armandpointedtotheriverbank.“Mia,look—it’strue.”Solcontinuedon,hisbacktowardus.Fromshouldertoshoulder,from

necktohip,wasahugetattoo. Itwasabird,amassivebird,withwingsoutstretched,talonsdown,itsheadproudanderect.AgainstSol’stannedskin, it burst in vibrant reds, blues, greens, and golds.Butmost unusualwas theway that Sol carried it.Hemust have knownwe’d see it as hepassed, yet there was not a hint of self-consciousness in the way hewalked. He simply ambled by, knowing we watched, not caring eitherway.

UsgirlsogledhiminsilenceuntileventuallySolroundedtheriverbendandfinallydisappearedfromview.

“Toldya,”saidKieran.Sally shuffled back from the drop, a stunned expression on her face.

“Wasthataneagle?”“NotlikeanyeagleI’veeverseen,”saidWillie.“Mia?”Ididn’t reply. I couldn’t.Everythingwasoutof focus, as if theworld

hadnarrowedandallIcouldseewasSolandhistattoo.Ihadseenthatbirdbefore.AndIplannedtoseeitagainthesecondI

gothome.

*

“So,”saidWillieonthedriveback.“HowdiditgowithAndy?Youguyslookedprettytightthereforawhile.”

ThoughtsofSol’stattoohadconsumedmefortherestofthedayandnotevenAndy’sincreasingattentionhadbeenenoughtoblowitfrommymind.AllIsawwastheiridescenceinitswings,itsrazor-sharptalons,itsproud,steelyeye.ButnowtherewasonlymeandWillie,andtherewas

nothingonhermindbutAndy.“It went great.” I thought of what Andy had said about Jessica and

taking Jay to the cages, but pieces of the puzzle still hadn’t fallen intoplace.“I’mjustnotsureIgetit.Whywouldhebeinterestedinmenow?He’llbegoneinacoupleofmonths.”

“Sothisishislastchance.Seriously,youtwolookamazingtogether.”“Maybe.”Willieshookherhead.“Maybe?Mia,what’sbittenyou?”Solandhistattooflashedinmymind.“It’snothing.”We pulled up at my gate. Willie turned to face me, her usually

mischievous expression suddenly serious. “Mia, one day you’re going tohavetoknockdownthatwall.”

Williewasn’tseriousveryoften,butwhenshewantedtomakeapoint,shesureknewhowtohitthetarget.“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean,”Isaid,genuinelyshockedbytheabruptshiftinhertone.

“You know exactly what Imean,” saidWillie. “I’m talking about thewallbetweenyouandanyguywhomightactuallycareaboutyou.”

Oh.Thatwall.Iglancedatthehouse,hopingPetemightmagicallyappearandgiveme

anexcusetoescape.“Idate,” I said,when itwasclearPetewasn’tabouttobailmeout. It

wastheonlydefenseIcouldcomeupwith.Williewasn’timpressed.“LittleboyslikeSeamusMcEvoydon’tcount.”

Sheheldupherhand,hereyes twinklingwith the first traceof a smile.“Youdon’thavetoexplaintome,Mia.ThisisbetweenyouandAndyandthatloserfatherofyours.There.Statedfortherecord.”

“Statementnoted?”Iuttered.“Good,”saidWillie.“NowgocallAndy.Tellhimyouhadagreattime.

ListentoLoveDoctorWillie;sheknowswhatshe’stalkingabout.”She leaned in for ahug.Relieved she’d finishedher lecture, Ihugged

back.“YouknowIthinkhe’sgreat,”Isaid.“Ijustdon’twanttogetmyhopes

upovernothing.”“Youmeannothinglikeaskinghimtoamovieordinnerorsomething?”

sheasked,squeezingback.Ipulledawayandclimbedout.“You’reoutofcontrol.”“True,” said Willie. “I blame the new guy. All that testosterone has

meltedmybrain.”Shewaved.“Solong,Mrs.Monaghan.”IwatchedWillie’scardisappeardowntheroad,knowingfullwellthat

shewasrightaboutmeandguysandwallsandexpectingthingsthatweregoodtoturnbad.ButIdidn’thavetimeforthatnow,becausetherewassomethingIreallyneededtodo.Iturnedforthehouseonamission.

Petewasmakingcoffeeinthekitchen.“Where’sJay?”Iasked,assoonasIgotthroughthedoor.Peteraisedhishandsinsurrender.“I’vebeenwithhimthewholetime!”“It’snotthat,”Isaid.“Ineedtoseehim.”“He’sjustgoneoutback.”I found Jay at the side of the house trying to shoot baskets with an

inflatableballthatwastwicethesizeofthehoop.“Hey,”heyelled,whenhesawme.“LookwhatIwonatbowling.Pete

pumpeditup.”“That’sprettyneat,Jay.”Arms folded, I watched the ball bounce up and down, all the time

contemplating how Iwas going to handle this. Itwas probably nothing,justastupidideathathadgottenintomyhead,but...

“Jay,Ineedafavor.”Jaydidn’tmissabeat.“No,youcan’tborrowmyWii.”“Idon’twantyourWii.Iwantyourleg.”Jayturnedtomejustastheballhittherim.Heletitfalltotheground.

“Whichone?”“Theleft,”Isaid.“Nowhanditover.”Iftherewasonethingthatpissedmeoffaboutmydadandhisparade

ofpatheticwomen,it’swhattheydidtoJay.Notjustabandoninghim—liketherecouldbeanythingworse.Butthis...

Icrouched,andthenrolleddownJay’ssocktothetopofhissneaker.Thereitwas.Justabovetheankle.AboutthesizeofaPing-Pongball.A

tattoo.Ofabird.Sol’sbird.“Thinkingofgettingone?”askedJay,withacheekygrin.Iexamineditclosely.Thesamecolors.Thesameloftydemeanor.The

samerazor-sharptalons.“Notrightnow,”Ireplied.Ipulledhissockbackup.“Thenwhat’sthedeal?’“Nodeal.”I teasingly kicked the ball across the yard—“Don’t pop that thing”—

then headed back to the kitchen to find Pete pouring himself a cup ofcoffee.Iimmediatelyheadedforthetable.

“It’stimewegotridofJay’stattoo.”Petestoppedmid-stir.“What’sbroughtthison?”“He’stenyearsold.It’schildabuse.”Itracedcirclesonthetablewith

myfinger,anythingbutlookatPete.Ididn’twanttoexplaintohimaboutSol.He’donlygetthewrongideaandthinkthiswasmeobsessingaboutsome guy. Itwasn’t. Itwas about Jay. “That clinic inOmaha can do it.Doctor Peak said he’d arrange it, and then you never called. Sign theconsentformandI’llorganizeit.I’lltakehimandeverything.”

Hecametothetable,watchingme.OnlythendidIrealizehowclosely.“Hassomethinghappened?”

“No,” I said. “We should have done it ages ago. That’s all. HeavenknowswhatDoctorPeakthinksofusleavingitthere.”

“I’ll call him onMonday,” said Pete. “See if we can get him in nextweek.”

Idon’t knowwhy I let something so stupid consumeme,but for therestoftheweekendIkeptpicturingSolontheriverbank.Thataguylikehim,sogrown,somature,couldbewalkingaroundwiththesametattooasJayjuststruckmeaswrong.

Isworethat if Ieversawmydad,I’dslaphisstupidface . Idiot.Howcould he do that to a kid, to brand himwhen lifewas hard enough? Itwasn’t as if Jay and Ihad the advantagesofAndy,or evenWillie. Ifweweretomakeitintheworld,JayandIhadtostandonourowntwofeet.We didn’t need to be singled out as different. It may be fine for SolCrowley, orwhatever his namewas,with his hunkymuscles and devil-may-careattitude.ButtodoittoJay—itwasjustinfuriating.

I was grouchy at work on Sunday, grouchier still when I thought ofAndyandrealizedIshouldhavebeenoncloudnine,notstewingoverJay’stattoo.IwoundmyselfupsobadlythatbythetimeIgotintobedSundaynight, I couldn’t sleep. Every time I conjured Andy’s image, itspontaneouslymorphedintoSol.Everythingcamebacktotwoquestions:WhywouldSolchoosetogetthatparticulardesign?Andwheredidhegetit?

Itmusthavebeensomewhereseedy.Solwasajuniortoo,whichmeanthecouldn’tbemucholderthanseventeen.ThetattooplaceinCrownsvillewouldn’ttouchyouunlessyouweretwenty-one.Anditdidn’tlooklikea

standard tattoo, either—no love hearts and arrows, or tigers and snakes.Sol’sbirdhadbeendesignedandIwasbettingthatwhoeverhaddesignedithadalsoappliedtheink.Ihurtledtowardanunnervingconclusion.Theyweretheexactsametattoo.Whoeverhaddoneone,haddonetheother.

“That’sridiculous.It’scoincidence.”DidIreallybelievethatifIdiscoveredwho’dinkedSol’stattoo,Imight

findalinktomymissingfather?

*

Monday.Lunch.“It’s a terrible idea,” I said to Willie, for the fifth time. “I’m not

searchingtheschoolforhim.”“Youdon’thave to,” saidWillie.She slidher trayonto the table, and

thentookafoldedpieceofpaperfromherbag.“IhaveAndy’sschedule.”I appreciated thatWilliewas cheeringme on from the sidelines. But

withthis latestmove,IsuspectedherobsessionforgettingmeandAndytogetherwasracingoutofcontrol.

“Where’dyougetthat?”Iasked,totallyaghast.“Sally.She’sinallthesameclasses.”“NowSallywilltellhimyouaskedforit.”Willie shrugged. “So?There is sucha thingasplaying toohard toget.

Youknow,hewasgrillingKieranaboutyouthismorning.”I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “There’s noway I’mhanging aroundhis

classesjusttosayhi.”“Whoseclasses?”Kieranhadarrived.Iprayedhe’dbeonmyside.“Andy’s,”saidWillie.Kierantooktheseatbesideme.Hethrewhisarmacrossmyshoulders.

“So where do you guys hang in the evening these days?” he asked,mimickingadeep,hunkyvoice.“IsMianormallythere?WhatnightsdoessheworkatMickey’s?What’sherbrasize,Kieran?”

SoKieranwasgettinginontheact,too.“Hedidn’tsaythat,”Iprotested.“‘Shedoesn’twearone,Andy,’Isaid.”Ishruggedoffhisarm.“Asifyou’dknow.”Willie scoured Andy’s schedule, completely deaf to the fact that I

refused to stalk him. “He has Spanish last period,” she said, her nose

almosttouchingthepaper.“Youcaneasilygettherefromhistory.”“I’mnotdoingit!”Iglancedaround thecafeteria for inspiration,ormaybeagiant rollof

ducttapeforWillie’smouth.WhatIfoundinsteadwasSol.Hewasseatedalone by thewindowswith an apple and a bottle of water before him.Even if I hadn’t known about his tattoo, he still stuck out like a sorethumb. His T-shirt pulled tight across his shoulders, themuscles in hisbackvisibleasheleanedslightlyforward.Acoupleofguysfromourgradetalkedatthetablebehindhim.ComparedtoSol,theylookedlikekids.

“Thenhowaboutacompromise?”saidWillie.“I’llaskJaketoamovieonSaturday,ifyouandAndygowithus.”

Shestillhadn’tgivenup?“Butthat’dbreakSeth’sheart,”Isaid.“Kieran can amuseSeth. It’s a simple solution. Jake’s a fineman.We

hadagoodtimeonSaturday.”“Ithoughthewasyournewlove,”saidKieran,gesturingleft.Icouldguesswherehe’dpointed.“Scoped him the second we got in,” said Willie, giving Sol a quick

glance.“Yes,Iwouldratherhaveabundleofthat,but,ashe’syettospeaka singleword to anybody in the school, I thinkwe’ll declare him a lostcause.Strictlyeyecandy.”

Iputmyhead inmyhands,but itwas justanexcuseto takeanotherpeekatSol.He’dturnedhisbacktous,andsatwithhisfeetonthechairbesidehim.Ipicturedhisskinbeneathhisshirt,andthetattoothathadtohavecomefromsomewhere.

“Lastchance,”saidWillie,wavingthepaperinmyface.Isnatcheditfromher.“I’llthinkaboutit.”“You’lldoit,”shesaid.Shecheckedherwatch.“Yeuch.Physics.”I stuffedAndy’s schedule intomybagandglancedatSol.He’dgone,

theappleandthewaterabandonedonthetable.“Willie, I’ll tradeyouanyday,” saidKieran. “I’vegotchemistry laball

afternoon.”I immediately looked toKieran.Chemistry lab. Ifmemory servedme,

thatwasexactlytheclasshesharedwithSol.

*

I feigned aheadache so I could leavehistory early.Andywouldhave towait.Ihadotherfishtofry.

IcampedoutatthelockersbyMr.Benbow’slabandrehearsedwhatIwantedtosay.Hey,Sol,showmeyourtat,wasn’tgoingtowork.Withhalfthegirlsalreadygagaoverhisveryexistence,Idefinitelydidn’twanthimtothinkIwasswooningoverhimtoo.

Hey, Sol, can you take your shirt off? The thought mademe want topuke.

When thebell rang and the first galloping steps soundedon the floorabove,Idecidedtherewasonlyonewaytogo.Wingit.

DoorsopenedalongthehallandsoontheflowofstudentsmeantthatatleastanythingIsaidtoSolwouldn’tbeoverheard.IpushedmywaytoMr.Benbow’sdoor,triedtoignorethebutterfliesflutteringinmygut,andhopedtohellIcouldavoidKieran.

Solwassecondoutofthelab.He entered the tide of bodies. Head and shoulders overmost of the

other students, he was an easy track. I hurried after him, several pacesbehindasheswungtowardthegymandtheparkinglotattherearoftheschool. A couple of shoves and a few wayward elbows and I’d almostcaughtuptohim,justashesteppedoutside.

“Sol?”Isaid.Itdidn’tcomeoutasdecisivelyasI’dplanned.Thoughbarelyaheadofme,Soldidn’tstop.Heheadedontowardthe

lot.Ishoutedlouder:“Sol!”Heturnedaround.Andy aside, I’dneverbeenone to fall at a guy’s feet.Theywere just

guys, right?Butupcloseandpersonal, I suddenlyunderstoodthereasonfor all the fuss surrounding Sol. He was hot. Not just tall, hunky,handsome hot, which he was, but intense-looking, gorgeous. And notMonaghan gorgeouswhere everyonewas after him and he knew it, butgorgeouslikeheknewit,andjustdidn’tcare.

AllthethingsI’dnoticedaboutSolfromtheRidgetookonnewclarityupclose.

Hishairwasashadelighterthanhiseyes;his jawlinewasstraightandstrong;hisarmslong,hisfeethuge.Butagain,hewasn’t likethejocks—pumped-upboysparadingasmen.Itwassomethingmorethanthat.Itwastheway he looked atme. Imean, looked atme.No embarrassment, noawkwardnesslikewithotherguys.Hehadn’tevenglancedatmychest!

Andthenitstruckme:Therewasnowaythisguywasseventeen.

Soltiltedhisheadandopenedhishandsasiftosay,“What?”Okay.Soobviouslynotthefriendliestguy.Therewasnothingtodobut

speak.Igrippedmybagstrapandtookafewsteps.“I’m Mia,” I said, cursing myself for thinking this a good idea. “Mia

Stone.IknowKieraninyourchemistryclass.”Greatintroduction,Mia.Sol didn’t reply, but neither did he turn away. His expression was

impossible to read.Bored, disgusted,mad?All I knewwas thathis gazepenetrated as deeply as the eyes of the bird he wore on his back. Hewaitedpatientlyformetocontinue.

Butwhattosay?Underthepressureofhispoised,self-assuredair,allIcameupwithwasthis:“HowdoyoulikeCrownsville?Youliveoutbytheriver,right?”

Henodded. Itwas something.All I had todonowwas forge a routefromtherivertothetattoo.Easy.

“Someofuswereoutthatwayovertheweekend.Youmighthaveseenus?WewereontheRidge.Youpassedby.”

Theexpressiononhisfaceneverchanged.Iagaintriedtodecodewhatitmeant.Whoareyou?Whatdoyouwant?WhatthehellamIdoinghere?

Rapidlygettingnowhere,Isighed.Thiswasridiculous.“Iwasinterestedinyourtattoo.”

The voices of passing students punctuated the silence that followed.The gymdoorbanged.Engines revved.Radiosblared in theparking lot.Andallthetime,hestaredatme.IstartedtowonderifIhadinkdaubedonmy lips orhugeboils onmy face.ApproachingSol hadbeen ahugemistake.Hewas clearly uninterested in everything and everyone aroundhim.Thechancesofhimopeningupaboutthetattoo?Zero.

“Whataboutit?”hefinallyasked.Sohecouldspeak.Hisvoicehadasofttoneandasoothingdepth,not

ultra-deep,butinnowayboyish.Itwasabonus.“I’ve seen something like it before,” I said. Seizing the opening, I

steppedtowardhim.“Iwonderedwhatitmeant.”Thoughhewasmakingthisfarfromeasy,Icaughtaglintofasmileon

hislips.Upclose,Isawshadesofawholedifferentperson.Hewasopenandinterested.WhatI’djudgedtobearroganceappearedascuriosity.Hewas a mysterious bundle of contradictions. I wished him luck makingfriendsatCrownsvilleHigh.

“Itdoesn’tmeananything,”hesaid.“Butit’shuge.Where’dyougetsomethinglikethat?”Again, that look, half guarded, half questioning. “No place around

here.”“Thenyougotitinthetownwhereyouusedtolive?”Sol’seyesnarrowed.“Igotitalongtimeago,”hesaid.Andthenheleft,

beforeIcouldsayanythingelse.Completely bemused, I watched him from the steps. He was one of

hundredsheadingthroughthelot,buthewastheonlyoneIsaw.Thenewguy.Sooutofplace.SodifferentfromeveryoneIknew.

Heclimbedintoabluetruckanddroveaway.Sol.Sol,withaman’sknowingeyesandatattoolikemybrother’s.Sol,

whowouldthinkofmeasthatcrazygirlwithlotsofquestions.NotthatIplannedonseeinghimanytimesoon.Onedoseofhumiliationwasenoughforme.

I headed forRusty, determined to forget the encounter andmove onwithmyday.ButtheimageofthatcuriouslookinSol’seyeslingeredlongafterI’dleftschoolbehind.

FIVE

Normally,I’dbedesperatetoconfesstoWilliethatI’dspokentoSol,but

I kept silent for no other reason than I’d never told anyone about Jay’stattoo.Ididn’tplanonchangingthatnow,especiallywithPetepromisinghe’dfinallygetridofit.TherewereotherissuesIwantedtoavoidtoo,likeadmittingthatmyfascinationforSolwentbeyondthetattoo.Itwascrazy,butIcouldn’tstopthinkingabouthowhe’dlookedatme.Andtherewasno argument on earth that would satisfactorily convinceWillie of whyAndy’s schedule had taken me to Sol’s chemistry lab. So when we satdown to lunch onWednesday andWillie announced that the cops hadbeenatOldManCrowley’s,Ikeptmyearsopenandmymouthshut.

“GottobeaboutSol,”saidKieran.“The‘nevertalkstoanyone’act.The‘randomlyshowsupandnooneknowswherehecamefrom’story.TherewasneveranytroubleatCrowley’suntilhecameonthescene.”

Willie,whoasusualwas tyingknots inher french fries, tossedoneofher creations at Kieran. “I hate it when you ‘air punctuate,’” she said,mimicking Kieran’s finger speech marks. “So the kid’s new to town?Doesn’tmakehimanaxemurderer.”

“Some‘kid,’”saidKieran.Heflickedbacktheclumpofmangledpotato.“I’d like to know what kind of a ‘school’ he got kicked out of beforecominghere.”

“Didhegetkickedout?”askedSeth.“Why else send him here? Did you see that tat? I bet it was a gang

thing.”Iwasdeterminednottogetinvolvedintheconversation.But,agang?

Theideahadmerit;itwouldexplainwhySolhadbeensocageywhenI’daskedaboutthetattoo.Obviously,Jaywasn’tinagang,butmaybemydadhadbeen?

“Thereareamillionreasonsforhimtobehere,”saidWillie,refusingtogiveitup.“MaybehisparentsdiedandCrowley’shisonlylivingrelative.

Ormaybehe’sastormchaser.OrheheardwhatagreattownCrownsvillewas.Ifallthestudentslookedlikehim,I’dsay‘bring’emon.’”Shewinkedassheshotanotherairquotation.

“Ibetyourdadknows.”“My dadmight know his favorite candy bar and his shoe size, and I

wouldn’ttellyou.”“Meaninghedoesknowsomething.”“Meaning,hewouldn’ttellmeifhedid!”Kieranpushedasidehistray.Helookedatusonebyone,intrigueclear

in his eyes. “Think about it. All these kids disappear, Sol turns up, andthenAlexDashgoesmissingtoo.”

Willie shook her head, then gestured like Kieranwas crazy. “So thatmeansSol’ssnatchingkids?Getreal,Kieran.Boysweredisappearinglongbeforeheshowedup.”

“Butifweknewwherehecamefrom,thenmaybewecouldfindoutifthesamethinghadhappenedthere.”

I couldn’t help thinking that maybe Kieran had a point. Not hisridiculous theory that Solwas theCrownsvilleKidnapper (thatwas justtypical Kieran hysteria), but that Sol was far too mysterious. I’d askedaboutthetattooandhe’dgivenmenothing.Whybesosecretive?Maybeitwasagangsymbol,maybeitwasn’t.Whateverthetruth,itallpointedinonedirection:Solwashidingsomething.

ThebellsavedusfrommoreofKieran’sconspiracies.“Unbelievable,”mutteredWillie,assoonasheandSethhadgone.Wegrabbedourbags,thendumpedourtraysatthemessstation.“Timeforstudyhall,”Isaid.“Anyplans?”Willie grinned. “Yeah. I’m gonna run circuits in the gym. Want to

come?”Ireallydid.“Ican’t.Ihaven’tfinishedRifkin’sdebateprep.He’sgetting

harshwithhisgrading.”“You mean the ‘It’s about time you all grew up and faced the

disappointmentsofadulthood’speechthathegavelastweek?”“Yeah.That.I’llcatchyoulater,Wills.”GladforadistractionfromSol,tattoos,andpsychopathickidnappers,I

hurried to the library and bagged the largest table I could find toaccommodatethemountainsofbooksI’dneedforRifkin’sassignment.Itwas a monster—“Resolved: The clash of civilizations has no basis in

reality.”Yikes.Igrabbedthereadinglist,hittheshelves,andbegantakingnotes.

Twentyminutes later I realized I’d onlywritten three lines.Opulentblooms filled the margins of my page. A theme appeared between thedoodles:Scrolling,curlingSs.

Givemeabreak.IblamedKieranthatIwassodistracted.AllthatgarbageaboutSoland

thecopsatOldManCrowley’s—as ifSolhadanythingtodowiththosekids.The realmysterywashis tattoo.Findoutwherehe got the tattoo,finda link tomydad.Finda link tomydadand . . .Thenwhat?Trackhimdown?WasthatwhatIreallywanted?

My brain was beginning to melt. Trying to refocus, I reached for adifferentbook.Ididn’texpectwhatIfound.Anopenbooklayontopofthestack.Andthere,onthepage,wasadrawingofSol’sandJay’stattoo.

Stunned, I glanced around. Solwas nowhere in sight.Heart racing, Ilookedagainatthebook.Thecolorsburstfromthepage.Itwasdefinitelythesamebird,astrange,otherworldlyeagle.Itssteelyeyewatchedme.

The caption read: “The Lunestral, or dream bird, which descends toearth inacolumnof light, signifies resilience,protection,andhope.TheLunestralissaidtoappearindreamsandoffersprotectionfromdemonsinthenight.”

Thebook,SymbolsinLegendandMythology,didn’tlooklikeit’dspentmuch time off the shelf. I turned it over and examined the spine. NoDewey number. No Crownsville High stamp. I skimmed through thepagesbeforeturningbacktothebird.

Resilience.Protection.Hope.Thatdidn’tsoundverygang-liketome.ButIfeltlikeIwasnowprivytosomegreatsecret.Afteralltheseyears,

Jay’stattoohadmeaning.Again,Iscannedthelibrary.Andtherehewas,watchingmefromthe

door.Sol.Hecouldn’thavebeenthereformorethanacoupleofminutes,butthe

thought that he’d been watching me sent a shivery thrill through myspine. He leaned against the wall, his long arms folded, his expressiontotallyunreadable.

I looked down at the book andwonderedwhether I should chance asmile.ButwhenIlookedupagain,Solhadgone.

*

Thewastedstudysessionsawmebackinthelibraryattheendoftheday.I set towork,but timeandagainmygazewandered to thedoor.TherewasnoquestionSolhadsneakedthebookontomypile.Butwhydidn’thethinkhecouldhandittomeinperson?Itookthebookfrommybagandopenedittothedreambird.

“Youknowthisplacecausesdandruff.”Ijustaboutsprangoutofmyseatatthevoice.Iwasdoublysurprisedto

seeAndy,aspeciesusuallyfoundinlockerrooms,notlibraries.Thethrillfromwhen I’dcaughtSolwatchingmeduring studyhall returned.Onlythis time, itwasdifferent.WithSol, I feltdrawn, likehewas luringmetoward him. With Andy, everything felt fresh and real and now. Mystomachtightenedwithnervousanticipation.

“Youscaredmetodeath,”Isaid.“Sorry.”Heslidintotheseatbesideme,hishairwetlikehe’drecently

showered.Itwasaregularlookamongtheseniorjocks.“Overtime?”“Debate for Rifkin.” I quickly covered the dream bird with my

notebook.“He’srankingourgradesonthis,andonlygivingfiveAs.”“Andyouwantone?”Ishrugged.“Wouldn’thurt.”Andy’seyes sparkled in the library’s fluorescent lights. Itwasclearhe

wantedtobehere,unlikeSolwhosegazeseemedtoquestioneverythingaboutme.IhadnoideawhyIwascomparingthetwoofthem;itwasabitlikecomparinggingerbreadtoprimerib.Bothweredelicious,butonewasallwarmandcomforting,theotherallfleshandblood.Itdidn’ttakemuchtoguesswhowaswho.

“I had a great time last weekend,” I said, trying to rein in myexcitement.“Ihaven’tbeenontheRidgeinages.”

“Meneither,”saidAndy.“Weusedtohangouttherealot.”He shuffled, nodding as if the conversation continued in his head. I

watchedandwaited,wonderingwhyheseemedsorestless.“IneverfinishedtellingyouaboutJessica,”hefinallysaid.Jessica? My heart sank. This was the part when he’d tell me they’d

gottenbacktogether.“Oh?”Iasked.“Yeah.”Hefidgetedagain.Itwassoun-Andy.Hewasusuallysocalm.

But it was kind of adorable, too, with his damp hair flopping onto his

forehead.ShameIwasprobablyabouttogetbadnews.“MeandJessica shouldneverhavegottenback together last time,”he

said.“It’sdefinitelyovernow.Ijustwantedyoutoknowthat.”Hoperekindled.Hejustwantedmetoknow?Me?Andylookedmestraightintheeye.Hetookadeepbreath.“Mia,come

tothepromwithme,”heblurted.“Imean,wouldyouliketocometothepromwithme?”

Icouldn’tspeak.Obviously, he misunderstood my silence. His face fell. “I only

mentioned Jessica because I didn’t want you to think this is a reboundthing. It isn’t. I swear.”He slumped. “Look,Mia, you know I’ve alwayslikedyou.Wegetalongreallywell.If ithadn’tbeenforJessicaand. . .”Heshookhishead.“Youdon’thavetoanswerrightaway.Youprobablyalreadyhaveadate,right?”

Washekiddingme?“I’dlovetogo.”Hefaltered.“Youlookedkindofstunned.”“I’dlovetogo,”Isaid,again.Hesmiledandthescentoffreshlygrilledprimeribfaded.“ThenI’llget

ustickets.”Hetouchedmyarm,andforasecondIthoughthemightdosomethingreallycrazy,likekissmerightthereinthemiddleofthelibrary.Hedidn’t.

“Ishouldletyougetbacktodebate,”hesaid,andstoodup.IfIwasn’tmistaken, he looked hugely relieved. “Don’t work too late. The fog’scomingdownoutthere.”

Halfshell-shocked,halfboogyingonmyhappycloud,IgrabbedmycellassoonasAndyleftandshotWillieatext:“jstsawAMinlibr.Gtbgnws!TTYL!”

Therewas noway I could tackleRifkin’s debate now.Those clashingcivilizationswould just have to try to get along untilmyhighwore off.Andyhadjustaskedmetotheseniorprom!

Idumpedmybookson thecart, and then snatchedupmynotebook.Beneathit,thedreambirdstaredatme.Ipaused.

Thedreambird,whichdescendstoearthinacolumnoflight.But there was no light when I thought of Sol and his tattoo, only

mysteryandshadow,thekindofdarkthings Iwantedtoobliterate frommylife.IsawlightwhenIthoughtofAndy—Andywho’dbeensosweet

andnervouswhenhe’daskedmetoprom,choosingmeovereveryothergirl in school. So what if Sol and Jay had the same tattoo? It probablymeantnothing.Andevenif itdid,wasthatsomethingIwantedtobringintomylife?

IdroppedSol’sbookintomybagandmadeadecision.Itwastimetoturnmybackonshadowsforgood.

*

Andy was right. By the time I hit the parking lot, the mist was prettythick.Morning and eveningwere often foggy inCrownsville, because oftheriver. Itprobablywasn’tsmarttoheadoutoftown,themistswouldthickenasInearedthewater,buttherewasnoturningbackwhenIwasinsuchadecisivemood.

Itwasasimpleplan:I’ddrivetoOldManCrowley’s,thankSolforthebook,handitback,andthenputhimandthetattoooutofmymindforgood.

Aspredicted, themistbecameadense fogas Ineared thebridgeandthe landing forGusMason’s ferry.Visibility sucked. I turnedonRusty’slowbeamsandkeptbelowthirty.

Abouttenminuteslater,tworedorbsglowedinfrontofme.Thetrafficsignalattheriverbridge.

I hadn’t realizedhow far I’d comewithout anything to guidemebutthewindingroad.Theriverbridgewasnarrow—onlyonecarcouldcrossat a time.Though Iwas littlemore than twenty feet away, thewoodenrailings on either side, which prevented a plunge into the river below,werebarelyvisible.

Doubtssurfaced.CouldIevenfindtheturnontoOldManCrowley’sland?What ifSolwasn’t there? Ihadtoputthebook intohishands if Iwastogainclosureonthisfesteringobsession.

The red light turned to green, and I came up on the clutch. Rustyshuddered, then died. Thinking I’d stalled him, I set back to neutral,tappedthedash,andthenturnedtheengine.Nothing.

“Ohno,”Igroaned.“Comeon,Rusty.Please,don’t.”I ranthroughtheentireritualagain,consciousofdrainingRusty’s less

thanreliablebatterywitheverytry.Stilltheenginerefusedtoturn.“Thisisbad.”Igrabbedmyphone,calledPete,andbeggedforoncethathe’danswer.

He didn’t. After garbling a voicemail, I turned onmy hazards, climbedfromthecar,andtookstock.

Iwasatleastacoupleofmilesfromhome,fartherifIhadtobacktracktotownandwalkonfromthere.IalsohadtogetRustyofftheroadbeforesomeonetoreupbehindme.Whateverhappened,Iwasgoingtohavetoexplainwhy Iwasouthere.Therewasnothingelse todo:Williewouldhavetocometomyrescue.

Iwasaboutthemakethecallwhenavoicecamefromtheright,closetothebridge.“Hello,there.”Arustleintheundergrowthfollowed.

Suddenly conscious of being alone in themiddle of nowhere, I spunaround.

“Who’sthere?”Myheartpounded.“Thatyou,Mia?”A short figure appeared on the towpath. I squinted through the fog.

“Mr.Mason?”GusMasonemergedfromthemist.NeverhadIbeensohappytosee

him.“Whatyoudoingoutthisway?”heasked.Nowwasn’tthetimetoexplain.Iskippedahead.“Mycardied.”“Weshouldgetitofftheroad,then,”hesaid.“Canyoupush?”IknewIcould.IwasmoreworriedaboutGus,whohadtobeatleast

seventyyearsold.“Justtothesidehere,Mia.I’lltakeoffthebrake.”IhandedGusthekeys,cringingattheemptysodacansonthefloorand

thesportsbradumpedonthebackseat.Gusdidn’tseemtonotice.Together we pushed Rusty onto the grassy shoulder. Problem one:

solved.“I can’t thank you enough,” I said, as I grabbed my bag from the

backseatandstuffedthebraintooneofmyoldsneakers.Gushoistedhisbaggy jeansontohiswaist.He scanned the fog. “Pete

comingforya?”“He’s not answering his phone,” I replied, hating that I had to give

testimonytoPete’sunreliability.“I’llprobablywalkbacktotown.”Guswavedthe ideaaway. “Noneedfor that. I’vegot the ferryat the

landing.IwasabouttotakeherbacktotheboathousewhenIheardyoucutout.Jumpon.I’lltakeyoutoMiller’sCrossing.Itcan’tbemorethanfifteenminutesforyoufromthere.”

I couldn’t have been more grateful. I resisted the urge to throwmyarmsaroundGus’sneckandplantahugekissonhisshinyforehead.

“Haveyoubeenonthewater inall thisfog?”Iasked,aswenavigatedtheundergrowthtotheriver’sedge.

“Fishingforperch,”hereplied.“Didn’tcatchsomuchasacattail.Luckyforyou,hey?”

Thepathveeredandthefirstboardsonthedockappearedbeneathus.Anothertwentyfeetandtheferryemergedfromthemist.

Gus’s ferry was a thing of magic to any kid younger than ten inCrownsville.Morepontoonthanboat,itwaspaintedscarletanddecoratedwith scrolls and flowers reminiscent of gypsywagons.A yellow awning,strung with fairy lights, sheltered six wooden benches. The captain’sstation stood at the stern. Beside the wheel lived Admiral Sunday, astuffed parrot complete with an eye patch and spotted kerchief. Heperched over the rusted tinwhere, as a kid, you dropped your quarterswhen you boarded, and Gus, an awful ventriloquist would squawk,“Welcomeaboard,shipmates.”

IpulledmyjacketaroundmeasIhuddledononeofthebenchesandtried to avoid Admiral Sunday’s eye. In truth, the scrawny thing hadalwaysgivenmethecreeps.Gusstartedtheengineandthelightsontheawning twinkled on.We drifted from the dock and onto the river. Thevagueoutlineofrocksandtreesloomedoneitherside.

“How’s school these days?” askedGus,who looked ahead, atwhat, Ididn’tknow.

“It’sgood.”“Andhow’sthatlittlebrotherofyours?”“He’sfine.”“Notstrayingfromhomeonhisown,Ihope.”“No,wekeepclosetabsonhimwiththewaythingsare.”Vibrations from the engine rumbled through the hull. My hair and

clothes grew cold and damp. I watched Gus steer and thought of thatnightatMickey’swithRichManning.AndthenIthoughtaboutAlexandthelightI’dseenonRowe.

“Mr.Mason?”“CallmeGus.Mr.Masonmakesme sound like anold fart,whichof

courseIam,butnoharmpretendingotherwise.”I smiled. “Do you remember what Rich Manning said about Alex

Dash?”“Rich? Who can remember anything that comes out of his crazy

mouth?”“HesaidtherewerelightsinCrownsville—thatnothinggoodhappened

whentheycamehere.”Guscontinuedtostareoffthebow,andtheglowfromthefairylights

caughtinhispaleblueeyes.ForasecondIcouldimagineIwasatseaorsomefarawayplace,visitingworldsonlyGusknewhowtofind.Histhickeyebrows droppedwithhis frown. I checked ahead into the fog, certainsomethingmusthavecaughthiseye.Awhiteblanketremained.

“It’sastrangeplace,Crownsville,”heremarked.Iturnedback,surprisedbythechangeinhisvoice.Helookedlikethe

sameoldGuswith the sameoldAdmiralSundayguardinghis shoulder,onlyhewasn’tthesameinthatmoment.Itwasasifhesawthatfarawayworld—somethingjustoutofreach.

“Didyoueverseelights?”Iasked.“No,Mia,”Gussaid.“Nolights.”Silencedescendedasweturnedsharplywest.Thefogstartedtoliftin

frontofus and trees appearedon thebanks. I recognized the landmarksandknewwewereclosetoOldManCrowley’s.

We rounded another bend and Crowley’s tiny shack appeared.Everyoneknewitwasaramshackleplace,aclapboardcottagebuiltontopofagentlerise.Talltreessurroundedit,likeawoodlandhutfromalongforgottentale.Lightsshoneatthewindows.Butitwasn’tCrowley’shomethatmademyheartkick,thenrace.

Solstoodontheovergrownlawn,watchingtheferryaswedriftedby.Instincttoldmetolookaway.Icouldn’t.Hewatched,likeasentry,alonestatueinaseaofmist.ThefogremainedthickontheedgesofCrowley’sland,butontheyard,itretreated,likeacurtainopeningatthebeginningofaplay.

Why Sol was outside in weather like this didn’t enter mymind. Hebelongedthere,asmuchasGusandAdmiralSundaybelongedontheriver.Buttheferryputteredalong,andsoonwe’dpassed. I turnedtotakeonelastlookbeforeSolandthehousedisappearedfromview.

GusalsolookedatSol.Icaughtthetwoofthem—theoldmanontheriverandtheyoungguyontheshore—staringintentlyateachother.

Ipulledmyjackettighteraroundme,unnerved.

Themagichadpassed.GuswasGusagain,hiseyestrainedontheriver.ButIcouldn’tshaketheshiverthattraveledmyspine.

In that final moment, before Sol had disappeared from view, I wascertainI’dseenGusbow.

SIX

Ofeverythingintheworld,”saidWillie.“Shopping,chocolate,volleyball

—it’sbeingrightthatIlikebest.”“Thenyoushouldbereallyhappy,”Isaid.“Becauseyouwereright.”Shewas inspectingmycloset’spitiful selectionof formalwearwhile I

sprawledonmybed,glowingfromAndy’sinvitation.“Willie,I’mbuyingsomethingnew.Thatcreamone’sputrid,theblue’s

tooslutty,andIbarelyfitinthegreenanymore.”With one eyebrow raised, she turned frommy closet. “Thenwhy are

theyhanginghere?”“Imightneedthem,”Isaid.“For?”“I’llthinkofsomething.”“Why do I believe you?” She took putrid and slutty from the closet.

“Hangingon togarbage is adefensemechanismagainst all themisery inyourlife.”

“ButIdon’thavemiseryinmylife,”Isaid.“Yes,youdo.TakeRusty,forexample.”You think she’d give me a break after Andy asked me to prom. I

groaned.“Dowehaveto?”HourshadpassedsincemyadventureontheriverandIdidn’twantto

revisititnow.ThemoreI’ddwelledonwhatI’dseen,themoreconvincedI’d become thatGushadbowed toSol.Themore convinced Iwas, themoreconfusedIbecameaboutwhatitmeant.ItwasthekindofcircularthinkingthatonlySolCrowleycouldinspire.I’dhadenoughofittolastalifetime.

“Whatareyougoingtodoabouthim?”askedWillie.“Rusty?” I sighed.“Petetowedhimtotheshop.This time, I think it’s

terminal.”“Good. You’ve been a slave to that machine for long enough.” She

pulledoutmylittleblackdress.“Whataboutthis?”“Forprom?”“I’mjustlookingforideas.Ofcourse,wehavetoshop.”Shetossedthe

dressbackintothecloset,thenfloppedintomychair.“IwasseriousaboutJake,youknow.”

“Aboutadate?”“Wegetalong.”“Thendoit.Askhimout.”Iimaginedustogetheratprom.“He’scute.”“Andtall,”saidWillie.“YouknowIcan’tdateanyoneshorterthanme.

That severely limits my options.” She reached for the box withMom’snecklace,whichI’d leftout fromtheothernight,andopened itbefore Icouldstopher. “Nice.Youshouldwear this.”Sheheld itup.Theamberstoneswiththeircrimsonveinstwinkledinthelight.“Where’dyougetit?”

WithWillie already trying to unearth themisery inmy life, I wasn’tsureIwantedtoconfess.“Itwasmymom’s,”Ireplied,tentatively.

“No!”Shedrapeditacrossherfrontbeforeplacing itback inthebox.“Youhavetowearitforprom.Noonewillhaveanythinglikeit.”

I really couldn’t see myself wearing the necklace; it was far tooostentatious.Infact,Icouldn’timagineanyonewearingitbutapowderedoldladywithdiamondearringsandaminkstole.

Williestrolledtothewindow,asatisfiedsmileonherface.“Istillcan’tbelievehewasnervous.AndyMonaghan.Nervous!Jessicaisgoingtofreakwhenshehearsaboutthis.Seriously,Mia . . .”Shepaused,herforeheadpressedagainstthewindowpane,“IsthatJayoutthere?”

I glanced at the clock. It was almost ten, far too late for Jay to bewanderingaroundoutside.IscrambledoffthebedandjoinedWillieatthewindow.

Jaystoodontheedgeofthecornfield,hisoutlinefaintinthelightfromthe kitchenwindow.He ducked, peering through the new growth as ifsearchingforsomethinginthefoliage.

“Mia,whatishedoing?”“Maybehe lost something,” I said. “I’dbettergo see.Youget rats the

sizeofcoyotesoutthere.”Iboundeddownstairs,throughthekitchen,thenoutintotheyard.The

worstofthefoghadcleared,buttheairwasstillcoolanddamp.Moistureglistenedonthedriveway.

“Whatyoudoing,Spud?”

HeturnedasIreachedhisside.“IthoughtIsawsomething,”hesaid.Iscannedtheedgeofthefield.Allthatmovedwerefinevaporsofmist

coilingaroundthestalks.“Idon’tseeanything.Wasitafox?”Jayshookhishead.He lookedback intothecorn,hiseyesnarrowing,

searching.Therewasnothingthere.I glanced up to the bedroom window where Willie still watched. I

shruggedather,confused.“Whatdidyousee,Jay?”Thecornwhisperedquietlyaroundus.“Jay?”“I’mnotsure,”hesaid.Hetookmyhand.“IthoughtIsawmymom.”

*

IspoketoPeteinthekitchenfirstthingthenextmorning.“IthinkwehaveaproblemwithJay,”Isaid.“AndIthinkitmightbe

myfault.”Petelookedupfromcleaninghisshotgun.“Whatkindofproblem?”I slid into a chair and braced myself for what I knew would be a

difficult conversation. Nomatter howmuch Pete avoided talking aboutfamily,IhadtotellhimaboutwhatJayhadsaidhe’dseen.Iwasworried.

“IthinkImighthavestirredsomethingupabouthimandhismom,”Isaid.

A long, awkward silencepassed. Finally, Pete droppedhis rag. “Whatabouther?”

“It was the other night,” I replied, determined to be as delicate as Icould.“Hehadthispictureofher,soIaskedhimaboutit.Nothingheavy,justifherememberedher,thatkindofthing.Only,hemadeupthistaleaboutherbeingtakenfromhim.Heseemedworriedthat Iwasgoingtogetsnatchedtoo.WithAlexgone,Ijustthoughthewasmixingeverythingup.Atleast,that’swhatIthought.ThenlastnightIfoundhimoutbythecornfield.Hesaidhe’dseenheroutthere.”

“Hismother,”saidPete.Hedidn’tonceblink.“Yeah,”Ireplied.“Inthecornfield.”IexpectedPetetodismissitascrazykidtalk.Buthestaredatmeasif

hewerereallylistening.AfirstforPete.“Whatelsedidhesay?”heasked.

“Nothing yet. I wish I hadn’t asked him about her. Stacey Ann’sprobably been filling his headwith crap aboutAlex.Now he thinks heseeshismom. I justwonderedwhetherwe shouldmention it toDoctorPeak.Didyoucallhimyet?”

As soon as I mentioned Doctor Peak, Pete went back to his gun.“Haven’thadachance.”

“Butyou’regonnacallhim,right?Aboutthetattoo?”IregrettedsayinganythingasPeteslidintooneofhismoods.Ahorntootedfromthedriveway.“That’llbeWillie,”Isaid,andgrabbedmybag.Petedidn’t lookup,nogood-bye,nohaveaniceday. Iknewwhat it

meant.He’d take off somewhere andwouldn’t be back until late. I hadwork after school, which meant Jay would be alone for most of theeveningunlessIcalledMrs.Bakerandaskedhertowatchhim.

Mothers.TheStonefamilytaboo.WhenwouldIeverlearntokeepmybigmouthshut?

*

Inmyexperience,daysthatstartbadlyrarelygetbetter.Firstperiod:Rifkin,LordofGrumpton,piledonyetmorehomework.

SethwassulkingatlunchhavingheardthatWillieplannedtoaskJakeout.And then Sally Machin must have heard about me and Andy going toprombecause shebashed intome in thehallway, and then flouncedoffaftersendingafatallookinmydirection.

Bytheendof theschoolday, Iwasreadytoclimb intobed.Except IhadashiftatMickey’s.Worsestill,becauseofRusty’sdemiseandWillie’sclubvolleyballpractice,Ihadtogotherestraightfromschool...onthebus.

Therewassomethingabouttheschoolbusthatmademewanttogiveupthewill to live.First, it smelled likeanoldfolk’shome,amixtureofbabypowderandurine.Secondly,itpickedupfromtheelementaryschoolbefore it came to Crownsville High, and the little twerps on my routethoughtitwashilarioustoyell“boobs”andpinchtheassesofanyoneovertheageoffifteenwhogoton.Istoodclosetotheschoolsteps,staringatthebeastasifitweremynemesis,heretovanquishme.

“Mia?”“Iknow,”Isnapped.“I’mgettingonthewretchedthing.”

Assoonas I spoke, I realized itwasn’t theusual scoldingvoice inmyhead.Ispunaround.ThenIcringed.

Solstoodbehindme.Heglancedatthebus.“You crept up onme,” I said,wanting to add “Again!” Iwas curious,

though,aboutwhathewanted.“Sorryaboutthat.”Icouldn’thelpbutaccepthisapology.Thepiercingintensityhadgone

from his eyes and—did I dare say it?—he appeared approachable. Ofcourse,approachable iseasywhenyouhave theupperhand. Imean,hehadjustcaughtmetalkingtomyself.

“In my defense,” I said. “I don’t always talk to myself. I was gettingpsychedupforthebus.”

Forthefirsttimeever,SolCrowleysmiled.Andwhatasmileitwas.Itreachedeverypartofhisface,especiallyhiseyes.Atthesametime,withasubtle shrug, he shifted his weight, left to right. His wide shouldersrelaxed. His long, tanned arms hung loose at his side, and suddenly hedidn’tseemasintimidatingastheSolI’dfirstspokentoonlydaysbefore.

“Youshouldsitnexttothatkidwho’slickingthewindows,”hesaid.Itwas intriguingtohearhimspeakagain.Hehadthatsexyvoicethat

camefromsomewheredeepinsidehischest,oneIcouldlistentoallday.IwasgoingtopromwithAndy,butIwasstillhuman.Solwashot.Therewasnowayaroundit.Ismiledtoo.

“Who, Ike?” I said. I pointed to the bus where Ike Greenwald was,indeed,lickingthewindows.“He’smybestbud.”

Thebusdoorclosed.“I should go,” I said, though for some reason, I really didn’twant to.

Yes,I’dmademydecisionyesterday:Nomoredark,moodymysteries.Lifefrom here on in was going to be light, bright, and fluffy. But Sol wassmiling, making jokes. And I was curious—everyone was curious—abouthim.Besides,Istillhadtoreturnhisbook.

Twogirlsapproachedfromtheright,walkingstraightatSol,obviouslyhopingtobrushpasthimbythegigglyexpressionsontheirfaces.Withoutsomuchasasidewaysglance,heleanedaway,foilingtheirplan.Hehadtohave known he was their target, but he didn’t acknowledge it. I guesswhenyoulookedasgoodasSol,yougotusedtobeingstaredatallday.

Torn,Iglancedatthebus.Ike’sfacewasstillpressedagainsttheglass.Timeforadecision.Getonthebusnoworriskbeinglateformyshift.

“I’llgiveyouaride,”saidSol,as ifreadingthetormentonmyface.“Ican’tletyouputyourselfthroughthat.”

Hismotivation for theofferwas amystery.Maybehewanted to talkaboutthedreambirdorlastnightontheriver.Maybehe’dfinallydecidedto try to make friends at Crownsville High. But a ride? I didn’t knowanythingabouthim.WouldIget intoacarwithapotentialpsychopath?Evenifhewasacuteone?Apparently,yes.

“I’mactuallyheadingtowork,”Isaid.“AtMickey’s.OnMain.”“I’veseenyouthere.”Thebuspulledaway.Decisionmade.SolCrowleywasabouttodrive

metowork.Everyonetakesaturnfeelingwatchedwhentheyareinhighschool,but

strollingacrosstheparkinglotwithSol,Ikneweveryeyewasonus.WordwasboundtoreachAndythatMiaStonehadclimbedintothenewkid’struck.HalftheschoolalreadyknewAndyhadaskedmetoprom.Ifeltmyreputation begin to tatter. But itwas too late to turn back. Sol actuallyheldopenthepassengerdoorofhistruck.Hegesturedformetoclimbin.

“UnlessyouthinkI’mthekiddiesnatchertoo,”hesaid.Mycheeksburnedassoonashesaidit.“Ofcoursenot,”Ireplied,and

toprovethepoint,Igotin.ButIwonderedifI’dmadetherightchoicewhenSolgotinandclosed

thedoorbehindhim.Thecabin suddenly feltvery small.His long limbsandbroadshouldersfilledthespace.Hepulledoutoftheparkinglot.

“SohowdoyoulikeCrownsville?”Iasked,unabletothinkofanythingelsetosay,andwonderingifthistimeImightgetananswer.

“It’sdifferent,”hesaid.We stopped at a red light, and I caught himwatchingmeout of the

corner of his eye. I got the feeling he was studyingme as much as I’dstudiedhim.

“Noonereallythinksyoutookthosekids,”Isaid.Hesmiled.“Ididn’tthinktheydiduntilaboutasecondago.”Shutup,Mia.The light turned.Solwentback towatching the road. Itwas a relief.

TherewassomethingabouthimIcouldn’tpinpoint.Itwasasifhealreadyknewme,orexpectedmetosaysomething,butIwasn’tsurewhat.ItwasalittlelikewhenRifkincalledonyouinclass,andyourealizedthatyou’dbeendaydreamingandhadno ideawhatthequestionwas. Ihatedthose

moments because usually I filled them with pointless chatter like, “IsCrownsvilleHighmuchdifferentfromyouroldschool?”

“Very,”hesaid.“Andwherewasthat?”Solstaredattheroad.Itwasdifficulttoknowwheretolook.Hisface

inprofile,withhisstraightnoseandstrongjaw,wasasgorgeousashewasheadon.Hissmilefaded.Iwasn’tsurewhy,butIwassuddenlycastbacktotheferryandGus’sintensityashegazedintothefog.Sol’shugehandsgripped the wheel, the tendons in his arms straining as he twisted thevinyl.“Itwassomeplacefaraway.”

Another red light. Ihadn’tnoticedhowmany lights thereweredownhere.Assoonaswestopped,Solagainfacedme.

“Whywereyouontheriverlastnight?”heasked.The cabin seemed to shrink even further. All I could see were Sol’s

wide shoulders, his long arms, and the questioning look in his eyes. Iglancedathishands,whichmomentsbeforehadsqueezedthewheel,andthoughtofKieranandhiscrazyconspiracies.Theywereprettybighands.Strong hands. The kind that could easily grab a kid off the street. Iswallowed.

“Mycardied,”Isaid,cursingKieranformakingmefeelsouneasy.“Mr.MasonwasgivingmearidetoMiller’sCrossing.”

“Butwhywereyouupthere?”“Well...”Itookabreath.Therewasnoreasontofeelthisnervous,no

matter how hard he’d twisted that wheel. Whatever the rumors wereaboutSol,he’ddonenothingtodeservethem.Hewasn’t themostopenguy, but he had just started at a new school. I couldn’t blame him forkeepinghisdistance. Itdidn’tmeanhewasabout to leavemedead inaditch.

“Iwascomingtoreturnyourbook.”“SoyouknowwhereIlive.”“Everyonedoes.”“AreyouoftenupattheRidge?”Ahornhonkedandoureyessnappedforwardtofindthatthelighthad

changed.Soldroveon.“Sometimes,” I said. “Mainly in summer. Sometimeswe go to Jacob’s

Lake.It’saboutfiftymilesfromhere.Acoupleofguysfromschoolhavehomesupthere.”

“Andtherestofthetime?”“Idon’tknow.Justwhatanyonedoesinatownthissize.”Wepulledup in frontofMickey’s, endingwhathad almostbeen the

longesttenminutesofmylife.Ireachedformybag.“Thanks,”Isaid,andhandedhimhisbook.

Soltookit.Hecontinuedtowatchmeasifmyfacewerecoveredinathousandcaptionsandclues.“Youneverdidtellmewhereyou’dseentheLunestral,”hesaid.

“Youneverasked.”“I’maskingnow.”Thiswasunknownterritory.Havingamotherinprison,aloserfather,a

depressive uncle. No problem. I’d admit it to anyone who asked. ButadmitthatJayhadatattoo?

“Myhalfbrotherhasthesametattoo,”Isaid,shockedtohearthewordscoming frommymouth. “Only, he’smuch younger—he’s only ten.Mydadandhiswifegaveittohimbeforehecametolivewithus;weplannedtoremoveit.It’sanunusualdesign,soIjustwondered—”

“If youknewwhereminecame from,youmightdiscoverwhereyourbrothergothis.”

Hewassmart,atleast.“Yeah,”Isaid.“IguessIdid.”Sol leaned back in his seat, his face tilted in my direction. “Then I

wouldn’t look too hard, Mia,” he said. “I doubt you’d find the answeryou’researchingfor.Butremember,evenifyouremoveit,oncethedreambird’stouchedyou,you’llalwayshaveitsprotection.”

Sol’sgazeheldme.Tinyveinsofgoldenflecksranthroughthebrowninhiseyes.Almosthypnotized, Iwatchedhim,as ifhe’dsteppedfromthebookofmythsandlegendsthatnowlaybetweenusontheseat.HowwasIevergoingtoexplainthistoWillie?

“Youshouldgettowork,”saidSol,andthemomentvanished.Hewasright.Afterall,itwasThursdaynight.Chickenspecial.Always

awinneratMickey’s.“Thanks,” I said, thoughIwasn’tcertainwhatIwasthankinghimfor.

Theride?Thebook?Clutchingmybagtomychest,Iopenedthedoor,partofmereluctant

to leave.WhoeverSolwas,whereverhe’d come from,he’dbrought thedreambirdtoCrownsvilleandhadgivenmeaningtoJay’stattoo.Forthat,

Iwasgrateful.Ishothimahalfsmile.“I’llseeyouaround.”

*

IreturnedfromworkthatnighttofindthehouseemptyandanotefromPete that Jay was at Stacey Ann’s. I stopped when I entered the livingroom.Anemptywhiskybottle stoodontheendtablebeside thecouch.The scent was thick in the air. Just when I’d thought Pete was doingbetter.ButthenitwasalwaysthesamewithPete.Onetriggerandhe’dbeoffagain.

Ishowered,thenthrewonmysweats.Rifkin’sassignmentwaitedonmydesk.ItfeltlikeyearssinceI’dsatinthelibrarywiththedream-birdbookasAndyinvitedmetotheprom.Buttheworldcontinuedonandwithit,Rifkin’s assignment. I flicked throughmy notebook until I came to thepageofdoodledSs.

Sol.Itwasnogood.Rifkin’sclashofcivilizationscouldn’tcompetewiththe

imagesofSolthatswirledinmymind.Sol,whocamefromsomeplacefaraway.Iwishedmyselftherenow.

Distracted,Ireachedformymom’svelvetboxandflippedopenthelid.Twenty-four hours ago, the necklace had been part ofWillie’s plans forprom. Ithadbeenall aboutAndy, about finding theperfectdress.NowthecolorofthegoldenstonesremindedmeoftheflecksinSol’seyes.

I took the necklace to themirror and fastened it aroundmy neck. Itactuallylookedbetteronthanitdidinthebox.I’dneverreallythoughtI’dwearittoprom,butnowitstruckmeaskindofvintage,asortofshabbychic.

Headlightsappearedoutside,followedbythesoftrumbleofanengine.IwanderedtothewindowastheBakers’carpulledup.Jayclimbedout.

Satisfiedthathewashome,Ireturnedtothemirror,againcheckingthenecklace.Vintage.Ilikedthesoundofthat.

Voicescarriedfromoutside.Tirescrunchedongravel.Goldenstones.Crimsonveins.Maybeareddress?Aftermyexcursion

with Sol, I might soon be known as the scarlet woman of CrownsvilleHigh.

Iwaslostinthethought,whenlightbeganbouncingoffthesideofmyface.Pink.Green.Blue.Itlookedsoprettyagainstmycheek’stannedskin.

Pink...green...blue...Mygazedriftedtothedesklamp.Pink...green...blue...Thelamplightwasyellow.Iturnedtothewindow.Two columns of celestial light—pastel ribbons—danced in the breeze

fromsomewheredeepwithinthecorn.JustlikethatnightbehindRowe.Butbrighter,closer,stronger.

Voicesoutside.Tirescrunchingongravel...Butwhatabout the slamof theporch’s screendoor?Wherewere the

cabinetsbanginginthekitchen,therustleofsnackwrappers,thelaughterontheTV?Wherewerethefootstepsonthestairs?

Outside,thelightsdanced.Idashedintothehallway.“Jay?”Silence.“Jay?”IntoJay’sroom.Bedempty.Computerswitchedoff.“Jay?”Louderthistime.ColoredmistsfloatedinmymindasIdescendedthestairsinthreegiant

leaps.Thelightswerevisiblethroughthekitchenwindow.They’dmoveddeeperintothefield.

The screen door slammed behind me as I emerged from the house.Rustles in thecornfieldechoedthroughthedarkness. Jay’s schoolbag layontheedgeofthefield,dumpedonthedustyyard.Trampledcornstalkslaybeyondit.

Drunkonacocktailofpanic,denial,anddisbelief,Isprinted.ThenIscreamedJay’sname.

SEVEN

Terrorpropelledme.IhadtoreachJaybeforeJayreachedthatlight,and

Ihadnothingtoguidemebuttheindistinctpathhe’dforgedthroughthecorn.

Thelights.AlexDash.Jay.Those three thoughts converged, like a connect-the-dotspuzzlewhen

the hidden picture becomes clear. This wasn’tmarsh gas or will-o’-the-wisp. Itwasn’t fireworks or aliens from outer space. Thiswas the samelight I’d seen on Rowe, the same light I’d seen the night that Alexdisappeared.

Thoughnotyetgrowntofullheight,thecornformedabarrieraroundme. It scratched my outstretched hands. It clawed my hair. Twice ittrippedme.

“JAY!”Myowngaspingbreathwastheonlyreply.With every step, the light moved farther away, the two columns

mergingintoawallofmist.Therewasnoonetohelp.Noonetohearmycries.

“Jay!Youstoprightnow!”I battled blindly on, trampling anything in my path, until finally I

stumbledoutof thecornfieldandontoopen land.Thecoloredmisthadvanished.

TheGartons’ farmwas to the left.The faint lightsofCrownsville laybeyond.Stars shoneoverhead.Far to the right stoodtheRidge, itsblackmass silhouetted against the velvet sky.A tiny figure sprinted across thefieldstowardit.

Icuppedmyhandstomymouth.“Jay!”

Nothing.“Jay,stop!”Itwasnogood;eitherhecouldn’thearme,orhedidn’twanttostop.I

loweredmyheadandranon.SoonIreachedthefirsttreesatthebaseoftheRidge.Jaywasnolongerinsight.Worsestill,thelighthadreturned.As I scrambled through the undergrowth and into the woods, the lightshonefromsomewhereabove.Peachytintshitthetreesandcaughtintheleaves.Astatic-likechargefilledtheair.Myskintingled.

“JAY!”Vaulting rocks, I hurtled up toward the Ridge. Birds squawked,

disturbedas Ipassed,andtooktothesky inamassof franticwings.Mymuscles screamed. But I couldn’t stop. Not when Jay was alone withwhateveritwasthatIwascertainhadtakenAlex.

Ireachedthelastofthetreesbeforetheplateau.Awalloftintedmistcovered the top of the Ridge. As if two great hands pushed from theedges, compressing the light into a narrower and narrower strip, itreceded.Fasterandfaster.Littlemorethantenfeetoflightremained.

Nine.Eight.Afaintfigurestoodinsidetheevernarrowinggap.Withafinalburst,I

toreontotheRidge.“Jay!”In the second I broke from the trees, the light reversed its course. It

expandedrapidly,upandout.LikeagatewaytoHeaven, itwasbrighterthananythingI’deverseen.SooncolorcoveredtheentireRidge.Dazzled,Ishieldedmyeyes,peeringbetweenmyfingersatJay.Hisbackwastomeand hemoved forward as if to reach for something unseen. A few feetmore andhe’dwalk rightoff the edgeof theRidge andplunge into theriverbelow.

“Jay,don’t!Stop!That’sthe—”A second figure appeared in the light. Itwas tall, shrouded in a long

blackhoodedcloak. ImagesflashedoftheshadowbehindRowe,ofAlexDashand theemptyboothatMickey’s. Ididn’tknowwhere that figurehadcomefrom.Fromwithinthelight?Ididn’tknow.AllIknewwasthatIhadtogettoJay.

The figure reached for Jay. I screamed, dove forward, lunging for thelight.Thehoodedfigureglancedback,andagreatweightbowledintome

frombehind,knockingmeoffmyfeet.Thewalloflightflashedonce,andthenvanished.Thehoodedfigurewasgone.

SowasJay.Frantic,Iliftedmychinofftheground,spittingdirtfrommymouthas

I pushed to get up. I couldn’t. Whatever had knocked me down, stillpinnedme.

Theweightlifted.MyfingersclawedthedustasIscrambledforward.“Jay!”“Mia,no!Wait!”Ispunaround.Asecondfigureroseinthegloom.Thiswasn’thappening.Thekidnapperhadreturnedtocoverhistracks!“Mia.”Thefigureknelt.Palemoonlightstruckthesideofafamiliarface.“Sol?”“It’sme,”hesaid.I didn’t questionwhyhewas here.He simplywas.Thatwas all that

mattered. I grabbed his arm. “Sol, did you see it? Jay! He was there.”Gripping Sol tightly, I scrambled to my feet, dragging him toward thedrop.“Hemusthavegoneover.”

I peered into blackness.The sound of rushingwater clashedwithmyraggedbreathing.

“Jay, hold on!” I yelled.Hands trembling, adrenaline gushing throughmylimbs,Iyankedmyphonefrommypocket.“Ihavetocallthesheriff.Sol,doyouseehim?Hehastobedownthere!”

Soldidnotreply.Hisgazeremainedontheriverbelow.I seizedhimagain,desperate forhimtounderstand. “Itwas the light,

Sol,”Isaid.“Tellmeyousawthelight.”SolstoodasstillaswhenI’dseenhimfromGus’sferry.Adeepfrown

coveredhisbrow.Notawordpassedhislips.Ithadtobeshockthathadsilencedhim. I couldn’tblamehim; I couldbarelybelievewhat I’d seenmyself.ButwithSolbesideme,Ifelthoperise.Iwasn’ttheonlywitnesstowhathadhappened.

Withhandsshaking,Icalledthesheriff’snumber.

*

TherestofthenightpassedinsuchablurthatIcouldbarelydistinguishonepartfromthenext.OnemomentIstoodwithSolontheRidge.The

next,distantengines,flashlights,voices.Petewasthere.Ihadn’tseenhimarrive.TherewereambulancesontheRidgeroad,patrolcars,andSheriffBurkett askingme over and over aboutwhat I’d seen. Each time I toldhim,he glanced atDeputyMonwright, and then askedme to explain itagain.

“Itwaslikethatnight,”Isaid,urgingthemtobelieveme.“Therewasaman and these colors and this light.” I glanced at Pete,who stood backwith arms folded, watchingme closely. “It must have been lightning, atornado.”

“Therewasnotornadotonight,”saidthesheriff.“Then a microburst! Something! Jay has to be somewhere. You’re

checkingtheriver,right?”“We’rechecking,Mia.”Thesheriffdriftedaway.IwasalonewithPete.“This can’thavehappened,” I said,wanting it tobe true. “Pete, there

werelightsatthehouse.Theycameforhim.”Petedidn’treply.Hestood,motionless,castinshadowsasblackasthe

hoodedfigureI’dseenwithJay.“Pete!ThisisJay!Saysomething!”AssoonasIgotclosetohim,Ismelledbooze.Ragegrippedme.“I’m

goingtohelplook,”Isnapped.“Seeingasnooneelseinhisfamilygivesadamn!”

I stormedbackonto theRidge,pushingpast theofficerswhoscouredthegroundforclues. I’dalmost reachedtheedgewhenInoticedSheriffBurkett standing to the side with Sol. Relief hit. Sol was talking. Nowthey’dhavetobelieveme.

“Andyoudidn’tseethislight,”repeatedthesheriff.Ifroze.“IsawMiaontheRidge,”Solreplied.“Ithoughtshewasgoingtojump,

soIgrabbedher.”ThoughtIwasgoingtojump?Thatwasn’thowithadhappened.Whythe

hellwouldIjump?He’dseenthelights.Solknewwhathadhappened.“Whywereyououthere?”askedthesheriff.“Justwalking.”“Andyou’restayingwithStanCrowley?”“Yes.IknowMiafromschool.”“Whataboutthishoodedman?”Solshookhishead.

Thesheriff rejoinedtheothers,but I stood, rooted inplace, staringatSol.Itwasonlythenthathenoticedmewatching.

“YouthinkI’mcrazy,”Isaid.The look in Sol’s eyes hadn’t changed fromwhenwe’d stood on the

edgeoftheRidge.Distant.Remote.“No,”hesaid.Thecopsmovedaroundus,radioscrackled,lightsswepttheground.Thiswasadream.Ithadtobe.“Yousawthelight,Sol.”Heswalloweddeeply.“Isawnothing.”Ishookmyhead.I’dbeensorelievedwhenhefirstappeared,butnow

itwasasifIwerefacingastranger.Thiswasn’ttheSolwho’dshownmethedreambird.Itwasn’ttheSolwho’ddrivenmetoMickey’s.Thiswasaguywho’dcometoCrownsvillefromsomeplacefaraway.Heshowednosign that he was lying about the lights. He simply watched me,expressionless.

“You’vehad a shock,Mia,” he said, calmly.He turned away. “I thinkyoushouldgohome.”

MygazefollowedSol’spathashewanderedpasttheofficersandwaseventually consumed by the dark. I waited, stunned, expecting him tocomebackatanymomentandsaythathe’dlied.Soldidnotreturn.

Frantic activity continued aroundme. But not once did Imove untilSheriffBurkettreappearedandIfinallylethimleadmeaway.

*

Ten o’clock. Eleven.Midnight.We remained in the kitchen—me, Pete,the sheriff. From time to time, Sheriff Burkett’s radio buzzed and myheartwouldleapashetookthecall.ButtherewerenoreportsofJay.Itwastoodark.Itwastimetowaitfordawn.

“I’llcallPrincipalCook,”saidthesheriff,whenhegotuptoleave.“I’lltellhimyou’llbestayinghometomorrow,Mia.Yougotthat,Pete?”

“She’llstayhome,”saidPete,simply.Hisfingersgrippedtheedgeofthetable.Hestaredintohislap.

Stilldisgustedthathe’dbeenoutdrinkingwhenthishadallgonedown,IturnedmybackonPeteassoonasthesheriffleft.Iheadedformyroom.Jay’sdoorremainedclosed,tauntingme.

HowmanytimeshadIpasseditonmywaytobedandneverpokedmyhead inside towish him good night, to ask about his day, to tell him Iloved him, like an older sister should? Itwas like a great secret, a great

conspiracy,restedonmyshoulders.NoonebelievedwhatI’dseen,andtheonlypersonwhosharedinthesecrethadlied.

I pressedmy cheek against Jay’s door, eyes closed as I prayed for thesoundofhissqueakingbedorforanexplosionfromoneofhisgames.

Silence.Ididn’tsleep.Couldn’tsleep.EverytimeIclosedmyeyes,IsawJayin

thedarkness.Colorsswirledaroundhim.Thenthedarkfigurewouldturn,hisfaceshroudedbythehood.I’dreachout,stretchforJay’shand,then—gone.

But where? Jay had vanished into thin air. But that couldn’t be. Hemusthavefallenintotheriver.Hewouldbeoutthere,floating,coldandalone.

“Butitwasn’tlikethat,”Imuttered.Jayhadn’t fallen. Ithadstartedwaybefore.Somethinghaddrawn Jay

intothecornfield.Irememberedhimtakingmyhand,tellingmehe’dseenhismom.What if someonehad reallybeenout there?What ifwhoeverhadtakenhimhadbeentargetingJayfordays?Watching.Waitingforthemomenttostrike.

ButSolhadn’tseenanyoneontheRidge.ButSolwaslying.Hadtobe.Butwhy?ThedoordownstairsbangedfollowedbythesoundofPete’struckashe

pulled away. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, as thejumbledmessofeventsranthroughmymindagain.

*

Petereturnedatseventhenextmorning.Stillunabletosleep,Iheadedforthekitchen.

“Anything?”Heshookhishead.“They’rebringingindivers.”My heart sunk. Jay was a strong swimmer. He might have dragged

himselffromtheriverandgottenlostinthewoods.Lostwasgood.Whatwas lost couldbe found.Butdivers?Diversmeanthewasnevercomingback.

“Ishouldhavebeenherelastnight,Mia.I’msorry.”IrememberedwithshamemyoutburstontheRidge.SoPetehadbeen

outdrinking—whatwasdifferent?I’dknownaboutthelights,butIhadn’t

runfastenough.Icould’vesavedJayifI’dtriedharder.Blamelaythickintheair.

“Youcouldn’thaveknown,Pete,”Isaid.“AllthatmattersisthatwegetJayback.”

“We’llgethim.”“Iwasn’tlying.IsaweverythingIsaidIdid.ItwasthesamethingIsaw

whenAlexDashdisappeared.Jay’ssomewhereonthatRidge.Iknowit.”PeteofferedanodsoslightIbarelycaughtit.“You’renottogobackup

there,”hesaid.Imadenoreply.“I’mserious,Mia.Itwon’tdoanygoodwanderingaroundupthere.Get

somesleep.We’llfindhim.”“Areyougoingbackout?”Heopenedhis hands and gestured to themud that coveredhis jeans

andboots.Hishairlaydampacrosshisforehead.Stubblecoveredhischin.“Justcameforachangeofclothes.”

Ilingeredatthetableasheheadedoutoftheroom.“Promiseyouwon’tgototheRidge,”hesaid,glancingback.“Ipromise.”Itwasaneasypromisetomake.Ihadnointentionofreturning.There

wasstillapieceofthepuzzletosolve,thehugequestionthathadkeptmeawakeallthroughthenight.AndassoonasPeteleft,Iheadedouttogetsomeanswers.

*

IdumpedmybikeonthetrackoutsideCrowley’s.Ihadonlyeverseenthehousefromtheriver,butfromwhereIstooditappearedtobeinanevenworsestatethanI’dimagined.Onlyanundiscoveredlawofphysicscouldexplainhowthestructuresurvived.Thedilapidatedroofsanktotheright.The tinywindowswere crooked. If the storm seasondidn’t finish it off,thentheovergrownyardwouldsoonenvelopit.

Iwalked the dirt path to the door, passing a garage and outbuilding,bothasruinedasthehouse.

Iknocked.Crows squawked in the trees. Squirrels bounded through last year’s

fallenleaves.Iknockedagain.

I’d been so focused on confronting Sol that it hadn’t occurred tomethathemighthaveleftforschool.Thehouselookedasemptyasalways.Therewasnosignofthebluetruck.

Willie’swordsechoed:Ihaven’tseenOldManCrowleyforages.NeitherhadI.Iknockedtwicemore.I sidled to thewindow.Cobwebs and grime covered the glass, inside

andout.IrubbedawaywhatIcouldbeforepeeringinside.Beyondwastheliving roomwith a fireplace andhearth. Paper hadpeeled off thewalls,exposingrottenboardsblackenedbymold.Twofoldinglawnchairsfacedthefirewithanupturnedcrateformingamakeshifttablebetweenthem.

TherewasnoTV.Nopictures.Norug.Isteppedbackandglancedupatthesecond-floorwindow.Thedrapes

weredrawn.Somethingwaswronghere.DidOldManCrowleyreallyliveinahouse

withfoldawaychairsandacrate fora table?Andwhereexactlywashe?He could always be seen on Main Street, grumbling to himself as hebought junkatthehardwarestoreorbucketsofrustynailsfromthefleamarket on the edge of town. Whatever the weather, he was alwaysscurrying somewhere in that long black coat hewore. But not recently.NotsinceSolhadarrived.

The smart thingwouldhavebeen to turn tail and get thehell out ofthere,butsincethemomentI’dseenthelightsfrommybedroomwindow,smarthadbeenlowonmylistofpriorities.Jaycouldn’twaitforthesmart,sensible,andrationalthingtodo.Heneededhelpnow.

Icheckedbehindme.Allclear.ThenIcrepttotherearofthehouse.That’swhenIsawSol.Hesatfacingtheriverabouthalfwaydowntheslopingyard,hisknees

up andhis armsdraped across them.Chanceswerehehadn’t heardmeknock, but Iwasn’t convinced. I fought through the brambles, stoppingabouttenfeetaway.

“Ihada feelingyou’dcome,”hesaid.Hedidn’t turnaround.His feetwerebare,thebottomofhisjeanswetfromthedew-coveredlawn.

I’dbeenadamantthatwhateverSolwashidingcouldn’tbeasdramaticasKieranhadsurmised.NowIwasn’tsosure.Therewasnogoodreasonfor Sol to have lied aboutwhat he’d seen on the Ridge. Unless hewasinvolved.Unlessheknewtheidentityofthemanbeneaththatcloak.

“Then you knowwhy I came,” I said.My stomach churned, butmyvoiceremainedsteadyandstrong.NomatterhowIfeltinside,Icouldn’tallowanyhintofweaknesstosurface.NotifIwastostanduptoSol.

Sol rose slowly, his long limbsunfurlinguntil he stood at full height.Physically,wewerenomatch;ifhewantedto,hecouldoverpowermeina second. But that wasn’tmy concern. Sol’s real power lay in his eyes.Commanding.Controlled.AbarriertorivalthewallWilliewasconvincedI’dbuilt aroundmyself.With Jay’s life on the line, Iwasdetermined tobreakthroughit.

“Whydidyoulie?”Iasked.“Youwererightthere.Yousawthelight.”Themusclesinhisjawtensed.“Itoldthesheriff,”hesaid,“andI’lltell

younow:Iwaswalking,Iheardshouts.Icameover,Ifoundyou.That’sit.”

“You’relying.”AssoonasIsaidit,heflinchedandlookedaway.Aweakness.Brief,but

visible.Iseizedtheadvantage.“Sol,mybrotherismissing,”Isaid.“Ifyouknowanything...”Itrailed

off.Sol’slipswereclampedtogether,hisfrowndeep.Heknew.Icouldsee

italloverhim.“Mia...”Everythingfellsilentandstill.Sol closed his eyes, chest expanding as he drew a deep breath. His

tormented expression vanished. He looked up, chin raised, again incontrol.He’dneverseemedsogorgeous.

“I don’t know what happened to your brother, Mia,” he said. “I’msorry.”

But not half as sorry as me. In the second it took him to say thosewords,I’dalreadyformulatedthenextpartofmyplan.Thiswasn’tover.Notbyalongway.NotuntilI’duncoveredthereasonwhySolwaslying.

EIGHT

I’dneverbeforedoneanythingthisrisky,sowhenIreturnedtoCrowley’s

thatevening,IwassonervousIalmostpuked.ButIwasdetermined.Solhad been close to tellingme something, of that I was certain.With notraceofJay,Ihadtofindoutwhatthatsomethingwas.

I dumpedmy bike far from the house and hiked the remaining halfmile. Sol’s truck was parked outside. The occasional shadow movedthroughthelivingroom.Crouched,Iwaited.

Solleftateight.Ilingeredfortenminutes,zipperedupmyjacket,andthengottomyfeet.Iwasgoingin.

Thehouseloomedinthedusk,likeawickedwitch’slairinakid’sfairytale.With no notion of what Imight find, I pictured children’s bodies,cages,ropes.

AndOldMan Crowley? The only thing I knew for certain was thatOMCwasnolongerhere.Wherehe’dgonewasamystery.

IbattledtheundergrowthtotherearofthehouseandtriednottothinkaboutSheriffBurkettandallofhis “talks” thatWillieandIhadenduredover the years. Somehow, we’d never covered breaking and entering. ItriednottoimaginehislookofdisappointmentifIwerefoundhere.Itwasreasonenoughnottogetcaught.

Thebackdoorwaslocked,soItrampledrampantivytothewindow.Iplaced my hands to the glass and immediately noticed a creak as thewindowshifted.Theframehadwarpedandwasonlywedgedclosed.

I pulled. Damp, musty air hung inside the house. Scrambling up, Iheavedmy body through the gap and into the kitchen. A board restedbetweentwocabinetsbeneathme.ItswayedasIloweredmyselfdown.Icaughtmybreath.Isaidaprayer.Thecounterheld.

Itookstockassoonasmyfeethitthelinoleumfloor.Okay,I’dhardlybeenraisedinapalace,buttheplacewasadive.There

werefourricketycabinetswithpaintpeelingfromtheirdoors.Asinkwith

asinglefaucet.Twoelectricringsforcooking.Nooven.Nofridge.I opened one of the cabinets. The shelves were lined with damp,

peeling paper. Therewas a bowl inside, two cups, and a stack of paperplates.Acanofsoup.AwholesaleboxofSnickers.Abagoftrailmix.

Palmsclammy,Iclosedthecabinetandheadeddeeper intothehousewherestairsledoffanarrowhall.Thelivingroomwastomyright.Tomyleftstoodacloseddoor.Igentlypusheditopenandpeeredintotheroombeyond. Hampers, boxes, and crates filled the space, haphazardly piledlike a life-sizegameof Jenga. If I’dpushedmy luckwith thatmakeshiftcounter, then rifling through these cardboard towerswas tantamount tosuicide.Butsomewhereinthehousetherehadtobeaclue.

I had just pulled back from the doorwaywhenmy phone beeped.Abriefheartattack followed. I searchedthroughmypockets. Itwasa textfromWillie.

I’ddodgedhercallsallday,butsentamessagethatIwasfineandthatwe could talk tomorrow. She’d left a voicemail earlierwith an update:Still nothing of Jay, no trace of the man, no trace of anything but thetrampledpathwe’dmadethroughtheGartons’fields.Hanginthere,Mia.Dad’sgonnafindhim.

Icheckedhertext.Itwastwowords:“Luvya.”I sank onto the bottom of the staircase and stared at the screen. A

second ago, I’d felt like the world’s only living person, creeping like acriminalthroughOldManCrowley’shome.NowIfeltWilliebesideme.Iknewexactlywhatshe’dsay:Weshouldcheckupstairs.Findoutwhathe’supto.Yougofirst.

“Luvyoutoo,Wills,”Iwhispered.Iswitchedoffmyphoneandbeganaslowclimbtotheupperfloor.I headed for the bedroom at the front of the house. The curtains I’d

spottedearlierhadbeenopened.Ipeeredthroughthewindow.TherewasnosignofSol’struck.

“Don’tdothis,Mia.It’scrazy.”Maybeso.ButSolhadgivenmenochoice.Crumpled sheets covered a cot beneath thewindow and therewas a

long,lowchestbesideit.Ontopofthechestsataglass,aflashlight,andalooselyrolledscrollofpaper,aboutafootinlength.Itwascaughtbeneathapileofclothes—jeans,T-shirts,hoodies.Sol’sclothes.

Takingcarenottodisturbthepile,Iinchedoutthescroll,markingits

positionsoIcouldputeverythingbackjustright.Thescrollwasthick,crumpled,andworn.Iunrolledacoupleofinches,

just for a quick look. Itwas constructed from two sheets; some kind ofvellumhadbeentapedacrossthetopedgeofthelowersheet,formingatransparentoverlay.Onthelowersheetwasamap.

I took the flashlight fromthechest,placed the scrollon thebed,andfullyunrolledthepapers.

The bottom map showed Crownsville, with Onaly to the north andwest. Not quite a streetmap, but detailed enough. The vellum overlayshowed something quite different: Patches of dark shading that, whenplaced over the map, covered most of the two towns. And there wererandomlydottedstars,too,at leastfifteenortwentyinnumber.Adenseclusteroftinierstarsformedalineclosetothecenterofthemap,wheretherewasnoshading.IsmoothedthevellumandthemapofCrownsvillepoppedintofocus.Whatlayunderthevellum’sstarrylinebecameclear:ItwastheRidge.

IliftedtheoverlaytoensureI’dreaditright.Therewastheriver.Thewoods.IfIfolloweditjustaninch,IcouldputmyfingerintheexactspotwhereIstood.

I replaced theoverlay and tracked thepathof theother, larger, stars.There were a couple in Onaly, right in the middle of a shaded patch.Therewerefourorfiveinthemiddleofnowhere,mostclosetotheriver.Butthenone,overthedarkareaonCrownsville,caughtmyeye.

Myfingersskimmedthevellum.AlongRowetotheelementaryschool.AlongRoute6fromtown.Betweenthememptyland.Andontheemptyland...astar.

Mythroatdried.Myscalptightened.Therewasonlyoneotherlocationtocheck,butIwasbeginningtoguesswhatthosestarsmeant.Andthereweretwoofthem,rightonthelandbyourhouse.

Barely breathing, I glanced around the room. A pair of mud-stainedbootslaybeneathawickerchairthatwasnestledbetweentheeavesofthesloped ceiling.A second pile of clothes lay on its seat.A swath of darkfabricwasdrapedacrosstheback.

I abandoned the map and grabbed the flashlight, shining it into thecorneroftheroom.Whateverhungonthechairwaslongandblack,justlikethecloakI’dseeninthelight.

Thewallsclosedin.I’dcomethisfar.Ihadtoknow.

Ituckedtheflashlightbeneathmyarm,dartedforthechair,andthenreachedforthefabric.

The first thing Inoticedwas theweight. Ithad tobe twentypounds.ThesamemudI’dseenonthebootswasdaubedacrossthehem.SleevesslippedfromthefoldsasIhelditup.

Acollar.Cuffs.Butnohood.Itwasn’tthecloakI’dseenonthatfigure.Had I really thought itmighthavebeenSolbeneath thathood?That

he’dconjuredsomeelaboratelightshowbywhichtosnatchJay?Anyway,it could never have been Sol. He’d been with me when I’d seen thathoodedman.

Buthowtoexplainthemap?AlexonRowe.Thelightsinthecornfield.Jay on the Ridge. All covered with X marks the spot. Still I neededsomethingmore.Proof.Solid,undeniableproof.Iputthecoatback,andthenshonetheflashlightoncemorearoundtheroom.

Therewasatrunkclosetothedoor.Longanddeep,itwascarvedfroma dark wood. Thick metal bands crisscrossed the lid. There was nokeyhole.Nopadlock.

Ilookedthroughthewindowagain.NosignofSol.Therewastime.I crouched in front of the trunk and threwback the lid.Clothes and

blanketscoveredthecontents.Ontopofthemlayasword.I’dseenswordsbefore.SheriffBurketthadafewonthewallinhisden.

Buttheywerefancier,elegant,Iguess.Notthisone.First, itwashuge. It ran the full lengthof the trunk.Secondly, itwas

plain. No etchings or scrolls decorated the blade like the ones at theBurketts’.Theonlyornamentationwasathickbandofwornbrownleatheron the grip. It was brutal-looking, a weapon designed for one purpose:runningsomethingthrough.

I reached for the sword, my fingers curling around the hilt. It washeavy,like,reallyheavy,heavierthantheweightsWillieandIliftedduringcircuittraininginthegym.Thiswasareal,solid,blood-and-gutsweapon.

Iplungedmyhanddown the sideof the trunkand rifled to seewhatwashiddenbeneath.Therewasahandgun.Aboxofbullets.Moreclothes.There was a deep green shirt of linen or hemp, embroidered with tinysilver stitches. Another, heavily woven in the deepest of red. And thenother things, things I’d never seen before. A marble-sized glass sphereinsideatinybox.Apouchthatjingledasiffilledwithcoins.

IeyedtheT-shirtsandjeansbesidethebed.Itwastheuniformofevery

guyatCrownsvilleHigh.Notliketheclothesinthechest.I lifted the embroidered green shirt. Sol’s scent rose from it, like the

woodlandsalongsideariver.ItwastheoutdoorsyscentofSol’struckthatIrecognizedfromwhenhe’ddrivenmetoMickey’s.

AsIcarefullyreplacedtheshirt,Ituggedatthespineofabook,wedgeddownthesideofthetrunk.

SymbolsinLegendandMythology.The dream bird book. As I pulled on the spine, the book caught on

somethingbeneath.“Itcan’tbe...”Ireachedin,andthenslowlywithdrewmymom’snecklace.With all that had happened, I hadn’t given it a thought. Now I

remembered.Almosttwenty-fourhoursagothenecklacehadbeenaroundmy neck. I’d worn it when I’d taken off after Jay. I sawmyself in thekitchenwithPeteandthesheriff,standingoutsideJay’sroom,lyinginmybed.Ihadn’tbeenwearingitthen.Iwascertain.

Itwasdefinitelythesamenecklace;onlytheclaspwasbroken.Alongstrandofchocolate-coloredhairwastangledinthelinks.

Images flashed.Solbowled intome frombehind.Was thatwhenhe’dtakenit?Butwhy?Ididn’tfeelitfall.Becauseithadn’tfallen;thebrokenclaspwasevidenceofthat.Ithadbeentornfrommyneck.

Thelightbrightenedintheroom.Necklacetightinmyfist,Isprangtothewindow.Sol’struckpulledupoutside.

MyfeetbarelyhitthestairsasIboltedforthekitchen,everynerveinmybodyonhighalert.HowlongdidIhave?Minutes?Seconds?

I hurtled into the back door. The necklace snagged in the latch as Ibattledtoslideitfree.TheharderIpulled,themorethelatchrefusedtobudge.Footstepsapproachedoutside.

“Comeon.Think!”Mygazesweptdownandrelieffollowed.Theboltwaspusheddownin

itscradle.ItslideffortlesslywhenIliftedit.Coolairrushedinside.I’d barely cleared the lawnwhen Sol shouted. The darkness between

thetreesbeckoned.Itwaslikelastnightalloveragain,onlythistimeIwastheonepursued.

I heeded no obstacle, barreling through branches and brush, dartingbetweenthenever-endingtrunksthatthreatenedtoblockmypath,fleeingfromthatswordandthemapandatruthIwasnolongercertainIwanted

toknow.Allthetime,Soldrewcloser,thesoundsofhispursuitechoingthrough

thewood.On and on. Like an out-of-body experience, I sawmyself as if from

above.Onlythebitingpainfromthenecklace,tightlycrushedinmyfist,anchoredmetomybody.

Mypace slowedas the land rose. Ididn’t lookback.The riveronmyright kept my path straight. Rocks appeared beneath my feet. IapproachedtheRidge.

Headdown, Ipoweredup the final rise.Any second I’dburst freeofthe trees and could turn for the road and pray that someone passed.Maybe the officers and deputies were still out searching for Jay. Thethoughtspurredmeon.Ahundredfeet.Fifty.Inearedanopeninginthetrees.

OnlysecondspassedbeforeI lungedoutoftheshadowydarknessandout onto theRidge. The final tips of sunset faded out to thewest. Themoonhunglowintheeast.Buttherewerenoofficers,nosheriff,nothingtomarkthisastheplacewhereJayhadvanished.

I’dbarely cleared thirty feet from the treeswhenSolboltedonto theRidge.

“Mia!Stop.”“The sheriff’s on his way,” I yelled. I continued to run, panicked,

picturinghimseizingmeandhurlingmeintotheriver.Noreplycame.Hopingthethreatwouldmakehimflee,Iveeredtowardthetrackthat

ledbacktotheroad.Leavesrustledtomyleft.Solemerged, lowerontheslope—hemusthaveduckedback into the

woodsandswervedaround.Hestoodwithinpacesof thepath,myonlyroutetotheroad.Flightorfightgovernedmyresponse.IturnedandfledbacktowardtheRidge.

HisheavystepsfollowedassoonasImoved.“Don’t!Mia.”Ispunaround.Solhadstopped,asafedistanceaway.Hewatchedme

intently.Hisshouldersandchestroseandfellwithhis rapidbreaths.Hereachedouthishand.“Comedown,Mia,”hesaid.

Ishookmyhead.“Where’smybrother?”“Mia.”Soltookseveralsteps.I steppedback, inchingcloser to theedgeof theRidgeand the forty-

footdroptotheriver.“Mia,don’t.”Iglancedbehindme.Thedropwaslessthantwentyfeetaway.“Don’t

comeanycloser,”Iwarned.“I’lljump.”Withhandsraised,Solapproachedslowly.“I’mserious.”Icried.“I’lljump!”My eyes darted left and right, frantically searching for escape. With

Sol’shands still raised, I imagined themaroundmyneck,himsqueezingjustlikewhenhe’dtwistedthewheelinhistruck.

Tomysurprise,Solstopped.Heloweredhishands.“Comedownfromthere,Mia,”hesaid.“I’llexplain.Ipromise.”

“Howwill you explain this?” I yelled.Almost defeated, fighting backtears, Ibrandishedthenecklace tight inmyfist. “You lied,Sol.Yousawthelight.Yousawtheman.Isawthemap!TellmewhotookJay!”

Sol’seyeswidened.“IpromiseI’lltellyoueverything,”hesaid,rapidly.“Please.Youhavetocomedownfromthere.”

Itookanotherstepaway.“MIA,DON’T!”Something inSol’svoice stoppedme.Hedashedup theRidge.Every

movementregisteredinmymindinslowmotion.Shockcoveredhisface,yetneveroncedidhelookatme.Hisgazewasfixedbehindandbeyond.

Cautiously,Iturnedaround.Light covered the Ridge. In the center, ribbons of color tumbled

throughabrightopening.Thelightwidenedandstretched.Stillitgrew—strongerandmorevibrantthanthenightbefore.Itspreadtothetreesandreachedforthesky,amassivegemstonewalleclipsingthenight.

Mesmerized,mygazefixedonthebrightepicenter.“He’sinthere,”Iwhispered.ThethreatofSolforgotten,IsawJay’semptyroom,hiscomputeridle

onthedesk,hisclothesunworninhiscloset.Therewerenomoresoundsof Jay and Stacey Ann clowning around in the yard. No more thump,thumpofthebasketballagainstthesideofthehouse.

Thelightcoveredeverything.WasitHeaven?WasthatwhereI’dfindJay?

Asiffromamillionmilesaway,IheardSolyellmyname.Ididn’tcare.AllIwantedwasJay.

Closingmyeyes,Iwalkedintothelight.

NINE

The light vanished. The breeze lifted. Once again, I found myself

facedowninthedirt.Imusthaveblackedout.ButthenIrememberedSolontheRidgeandthefearinhiseyes.He’dseenthelightstoo.

Disoriented,Ipushedmyselfontomyknees,butgotnohigherbeforeahandgrabbedmyarm.AsenseofdangercrashedovermeandIpreparedtoscream.Thehandonmyarmcoveredmymouth,silencingmebeforeIcouldshout.

“Quiet!They’llhear,”hissedSol.Withonehand still coveringmymouth,hisothergrippedmyarmso

tightlyitfeltasifhisfingerswerepressingintothebone.Struckwithterror,Icouldn’ttakemyeyesoffhisface.Hescannedthe

horizon.Thescentofwoodsmokedriftedontheair.“Don’tmakeasound,”hewhispered.So thiswas it.Death. Sol didn’t have the sword, but he could easily

haveagunormaybeaknife.Iknewhissecret:HewasconnectedtoJayandthoseboys.Therewasnothingleftforhimtodobutfinishmeoff.

I screwedmyeyes shutand triednot to imaginewhat theendwouldfeellike.Aquickstab,ashortburstofpain,andthenover?Ormaybehe’ddo something worse—leave me here far from aid, slashed and torn,powerless to stopmy life from seeping into the dirt. Somewhere in theblackness,abelltolledlikethedeathknellsI’dreadofinGothicnovels.Iknewitrangforme.

Butthestab,thepain,theshotnevercame.“Wehavetomove.”Stunned, Ipeekedopenaneye.Sol’shand remainedovermymouth.

Hepulledmybodyagainsthischest.“Canyougetup?”heasked,hisfaceinchesfrommine.“Areyouhurt?”

Confusion replaced fear. Sol wasn’t trying to kill me. His eyes werewide,hisbodytense.He lookedasscaredas Iwas.Andthewayhewasholdingme...itwasalmostprotective.Hescannedthedarkness,poised,alert.And then it struckme:What thehellwas thatbell?And if itdidn’tringforme,thenwhy?

Myeyestrackedthepathofhisgaze.Mymouthdroppedopenbehindhishand.

WewereontheRidge,oratleastitlookedliketheRidge.Therewerethe same trees and the same grass.Water flowed behind us. But ahead,where the roadonce ran, the treesweremorewidely spaced than thosethatsurroundedtheRidge.Distantlightshungbetweenthetrees.Unlikethe lights that had taken Jay, thesewere orange beacons like lamplightssuspended in darkness. Around them stood the silhouettes of squatbuildings.Thescentofsmokestrengthened.Thebellcontinuedtotoll.

Panic surged as I struggled tomake sense ofmy surroundings. Thereshould be farmland and prairie all theway toOnaly!No buildings. Nolights.Nothing.

Mind inmeltdown, I pushed away from Sol’s arms and tried to rise.StrengthfledfrommylegsandItoppledbackontomybutt.

Solgrabbedme.Heclampedhishandovermymouthagain.“Mia,don’t!”hesaid.Slowly,gently,heturnedmyfacetohis.“Iwilllet

yougo,butyoucan’tmakeasound.”Istaredintohiseyes,clingingtohisvoiceasiftoaraftatsea.Itwasthe

onlythingherethatmadesense.“Don’tspeak,”hecontinued.“Don’teventhink.We’regoingtogetup,

andthenwe’regoingtorun.”Leaves rustled to our right. Sol’s gaze swept toward the sound. He

squeezedmyhandandsniffedtheairlikeadogonthescentofimpendingdanger.

“Now!”Thoughhealmosttuggedmyarmfromitssocket,Ididn’tletgoofSol’s

hand. He wasn’t going to kill me—thatmuchwas obvious. Not yet, atleast.Whateverwashappening,Ihadonlyonemission:tostayonmyfeet.

Vaultingrocks,wetoreintothewoods.Agrowlrosefrombehind.Thesound came from deep within the chest of something best left unseen.

Terrified, I ran hard. Another growl. This time from the left. A shriekcarriedthroughthenightasifinanswertothegutturalgrowl.

Solstopped.Thistimehepulledmedown.“Wait.”Crouchedintheundergrowth,Ilookedfromtreetotree,everymuscle

inmybodyon alert.A townwas nowvisible at thebottomof thehill.Empty, burned shells of houses and shanties made of wood and stoneedgedthesettlement.Itwasn’tCrownsville.

“Whatisthisplace?”Iwhispered.“Sol?”I turned to face him, expecting no answer, simply needing to remind

myself that Iwasn’talone.Something inSolhadchanged.His shoulderswerebackandstraight,hischinraised.Thefearhadfledfromhiseyes.

“Thisistheotherworld,”hesaid.“Theoneyou’renotmeanttosee.”

*

Afterclearingthewoods,wesprintedashortdistancetoametalshackontheedgeoftown,duckingintotheshadowsbeneathitsoverhangingroof.Safelyoutofsight—ofwhat,Istilldidn’tknow—Solsurveyedourpath.

“Itseemsclear,”hesaid.“Butwe’renotthereyet.”A long scream resonated across the town. Two more followed.

Whatever shriek we’d heard in the woods, this was not it. This washuman.Ibackedupagainsttheshack.Solmusthaveseenthelookinmyeyes.Heshookhishead.

“Mia...”Throatconstricting,mouthdry,Iwhispered,“Iwon’tyell,”thoughthe

screamranginmyears.“Whowasthat?”Sol sigheddeeply, the sound lacedwith regret anddespair. “Someone

whogotcareless,”hesaid.The hut was cold against my back, but I couldn’t tell if that or the

screamchilledmemore.OrmaybeitwastheexpressiononSol’sface.ButasalwayswithSol, itdidn’t last.Nosoonerwerehisfeelingsvisiblethanhereinedthemback.

“YoutakeyourchancesinBordertownatnight,”hesaid.Bordertown?Theborderofwhat?Iwatchedashecrept fromthe shadowsandchecked the roadahead.

Finally,Iunderstood.“Youknowthisplace,”Iwhispered.Thebell rang, followedby another scream.But I saw andheard only

Sol.Heturnedhisheadtohisshoulder,hisstrongprofilelitbythefaintorangelightsofthetown.

“It’swhereIcomefrom.”Hiswordslingered,echoingthroughmymindasifIheardthemfrom

thebottomofadeep,deepwell.Thiswasadream.Ithadtobe.SolwasthenewguyatCrownsvilleHigh.He’dmovedtoCrownsvilleforafreshstartor togetaway fromtrouble likeKieranhad said.Hecouldn’thavecome from here; there wasn’t any place on the Ridge for him to havecomefrom.Butthemap.Thesword...

Iwenttohisside.Itwasasifweweremeetingfortheveryfirsttime.EverythingIthoughtIknewaboutSolcollapsed,butnowhissilenceandsecretsmadesense.

“We’llcutbetweenthosehouses,”hesaid,pointingtotheright.“Don’tstopforanything.Justbelieveme.We’reindanger.”

We kept to the muddy alleys, passing building after building eachdifferentfromitsneighbor.Thefartherweranintotown,themorehousesappeared. But not homes like in Crownsville or Omaha. These weretightlypacked,smaller,someofstone,someofwood,mostpatchedwithsheetsofmetalornail-riddenplankswherechunksofplasterhadfallen.

Streets twisted and turned until I was hopelessly lost. Cobblestonespavedone street, then thenextwas dirt, straw, then stone again.Therewas no pattern, no consistency, but the tolling bell, and the occasionallightfromashutteredwindow.

Weduckeddownanotheralley,farfromtheRidge.Itsmelledofbread,earth,andsomethingsweet,likelong-ripenedfruit.Alowlyingmisthungovertheground.Itthickenedattheheadofthealley.

Solraisedhishand.Wait!Through themist, I caughtmovementnear theground,bywhere the

alley opened onto the street. Limbs appeared and something scurriedaway.IgrabbedSol’sarmashecreptcloserstill.“Areyoucrazy?”

Thereweremore tap-taps of claws against stone.Whatever hadbeengrowlingbeforeinthewoodswastherelurkinginthemist,Iknewit.Forthe first time inmy life, IwishedIhadPete’s shotgun.Achirrup, likeachipmunkorwaterrat,echoedandthecreatureappeared.

It was a child, or seemed that way,maybe five or six years old, butmuch, much smaller, and scurrying on all fours, its butt up in the air.Hugeroundeyesskittishlypeeredourway.Itsneckwaslongandswayed

sidetoside.Attheendofeachfingergrewathickclaw,whichittappedagainstthestone.Itchirrupedagain,spunone-eighty,thenscamperedoffinto the streets, flicking a long, hairless tail before disappearing into themist.

Solletoutadeepbreath.“It’sjustagutterscamp,”hesaid.“Theyfeedonthetrashafternightfall.Comeon,weneedtomove.”

Istaredintothespacewherethecreaturehadbeen,asstunnedasifI’dwatchedaplanefallfromthesky.EverythingI’dseenandheardcollidedinajumbleofimagesandsounds.Isanktomyknees.

Soldashedtomyside.“Mia,”hesaid,hisexpressionearnest.“Youhavetogetup.Now.You’recomingwithme,whetheronyourownfeetorovermyshoulder.Yourchoice.”

Itdidn’tseemlikemuchofachoice,butwhatotherdidIhave?The labyrinth seemed endless. Iwas about to ask howmuch farther,

when we stopped in front of a door on a narrow, cobbled street. Solknocked. Long moments passed as we waited. Freaked to the point ofhysteria,andconvincedthatwhateverfolloweduswasonlystepsaway,Iwasabouttobangonthedoormyselfwhenfootstepsshuffledinside.

“It’slate,”barkedaman’svoice.“Whatdoyouwant?”Solleanedagainstthewood.HewhisperedwordsIcouldn’tmakeout,

ormaybewords I simplydidn’tknow.Finally thedooropened.Withoutword,Solusheredmeintoalong,narrowroomwithatableandbenchesin the center. To the left, two straight-backed armchairs faced a stonefireplace.

Themanhurriedaway,disappearingthroughadoorwayattherearofthe room that stood beside a wooden staircase. Footsteps soundedoverhead.Ilookedtothestairs.Noonecamedown.

Thoughweweresafelyinside,Solremainedatthedoor.Hepressedhiseartothewoodandgesturedformetoremainsilent.

“Werewefollowed?”Iwhispered.“I’mnotsure.”I backed away, determined to hold myself together and not imagine

whatmightbeprowlingthestreets.Itwasn’teasy.Hereinthisroom,thisworldsuddenlyfeltfartooreal.

Themanwho’dletusinreturned,brushingpastmeashemadehiswaytoSol.Hewasolder,maybeSheriffBurkett’sage,butshorter,andworebaggybrownpantsandalonglinenshirt.Hishandclaspedasword,which

heofferedtoSol.Sol took the weapon without question. I followed the sweep of the

bladedowntothetip,whichdespiteSol’sheight,almostgrazedthestonefloor.“Ithinkwe’resafe,”hesaid.“Wegotlucky.”

Lucky?Ididn’tfeelluckyatall.Luckywaswhenyougotcalledfirstfordebateanddidn’thave towait theentire class foryour turn.LuckywaswhenRichManning’smomwasintownandhemissedanightofdrinkingatMickey’s.Butthis?Lucky?

“Why are you here?” the olderman asked, his face sweaty and red. Inoticedhisteethwerewidelyspacedandfiledintotiny,sharppoints.“WesawtheBarrieropen.”

BeforeSolcouldreply,footstepssoundedoverhead,andaguyboundeddownthestairs.HeappearedaboutSol’sage,wasofasimilarbuild,andhaddarkhair,muchdarker thanSol’s,almostblack.Hisclothes,a thickblue shirt and looseblackpants, castmeback toSol’sbedroomand thewovenshirtsI’dfoundinhistrunk.HeheadedstraightforSol.Unnoticed,unwatched,Iremainedinmyspot.

“Theypassedby,” theguysaid,withoutgreeting. “Headedtoward thesquare.”

“Howmany?”askedSol.“Onesentinel.Twovisagedemons.Butthealarm’sringing;there’llbe

more.”ItwasclearSolknewthisguywell.ItwaslikeWillieandme:nofussor

nonsense,juststraightdowntobusiness.Solplacedtheswordonthetable.Heslumpedontothebenchclosest

tothedoor.“TheymusthaveseentheBarrieropen,”hesaid.“Itwashardtomiss,”repliedtheguy.Heshotmeaquestioning look.

“Justaboutlitupthewholetown.”“Thentheyalreadyknow.”IfI’ddared,Iwouldhaveaskedwhomhewastalkingaboutandwhatit

wastheynowknew.ButIprettymuchknewtheanswer.Someone—they—knewI’dtumbledintoaworldIwasn’tmeanttosee.Iwasalsoprettysuretheywouldn’tcarethatitwasn’tmyfault.

“SheopenedtheBarrier,”saidSol.Alleyesturnedonme.“They’llwanttofindwhodidit.Wehavetogetherbackbeforetheydo.”

Themanwiththepointedteethwatchedmeas if IwereoneofRichManning’s aliens. “That was no little opening,” he said. “That was an

Equinox,orascloseasyoucanget.How’dshedoit?”Solwatchedme in the sameway thatother twowatchedme.As if I

werethestrangeone.“Withsolens,”hereplied.“Fromwhere?”askedPointyTeeth.Sol ran a hand across hismouth, all the timewatchingme closely. I

couldn’ttellifhe’dpausedforimpactorifhesimplycouldn’tdecidehowtoanswer.

“ItwastheSolenetta,”hesaid.PointyTeethcollapsedontothebench.Hecontinuedtogape.ThoughI

barelyunderstoodawordofwhat they’ddiscussed, I suddenly feltbare,dissected.Ididn’tlikeitatall.Mytemperflared.

“Tellmewhat’sgoingon,”Idemanded.Silence.“Well?”Glances were exchanged. It was Sol who finally replied. “Your

necklace,”hesaid.Mynecklace?Iimmediatelyglancedatmyhandor,morespecifically,at

thehandthathadheldmynecklace. I’dnotgiven ita thoughtsincetheRidge.

“It’sgone,”Isaid.Theprevioussilencehadbeenponderous.Thiswasonewasdownright

oppressive.Solshiftedinhisseat.Heleanedoverthetable,frowningdeeply.“What

doyoumean‘gone’?”Ishrugged.“Ihaditinmyhand.Imusthavedroppedit.”Sol sprung to his feet, moving toward me with such speed that I

instinctivelybackedaway.“Checkyourpockets,”hesaid.“It’s not inmypockets.” I patted the front ofmy jeans and jacket to

prove thepoint. “Itwasdefinitely inmyhand.Whydoes itmatter? It’sjustanecklace.”

Sol’s face looked likehe’d just foundhishomeburnedto theground.Shock.Disbelief.Fear.Heturnedforthedoor.“Ihavetogoback.”

The younger guy offered Sol the sword, “It’ll be crawling out there.You’llnevermakeit.”

Solpausedatthedoor.“Whatchoicedowehave?”heasked.Heplacedahandontheotherguy’sshoulder.“Iftheyfindit,we’refinished.”

*

I don’t knowhow long Iwaitedon that bench for Sol to return. PointyTeethdisappearedupstairsnot longafterhe left. Itwas justmeand theotherguy, like apairof shy freshman thrust together in thecafeteria. Itdidn’tmatter.I’ddecidedthatnoneofthiswasreal.AnyminuteI’dwakeupon theRidge.Unless I reallywas dead and thiswasHell. I surveyedeveryinchofthewallsandwaitedforthejoketowearoff.

On one of my many sweeps of the room, I caught the other guy’sglance.Heofferedhishand.“Delane,”hesaid.

Iguesseditwashisnameandshookback.“Mia Stone.” Then added, “From Crownsville.” If that even existed

anymore.Delanenodded.Withhisblackhairandblueeyes,heremindedmeof

someone. He was a really good-looking guy, tall and strong like Sol,definitelyWillie’s type. I studiedhimclosely, trying toputmy fingeronwhyhefeltsofamiliar.

“I’ve never seen Crownsville,” he said. “I’ve been stuck here sinceSolandunvolunteeredtogoover.”

Solandun?Confused,Ishookmyhead.“YoumeanSol?”“Yeah,”saidDelane.“WelcometotheOtherSide.”WhoeverDelanewas,hedidn’tseemafflictedwiththesamereticence

asSol.Hewasopenandfriendly,hismannerwarm.Iftherewasachanceforanswers,itwasnow.

“Sowhatisthisplace?”“This place?” he asked. “It’s Rip’s house; he keeps it so we’ve got

somewhereto—”“No,”Isaid,gesturingallaround.“Thisplace.Thiswholething.”“Well . . .”Hepaused.His icyblueeyesnarrowedandtwodeeplines

appeared on his forehead. It was an expression I’d seen before, and Irealizedwhohelookedlike.ThoselinesonhisforeheadwerethesameaswhenPetewasdeepinthought.Hewasayoung,friendlyversionofPete.

“Howmuchdoyouknow?”heasked.Ishrugged.“Howabout‘nothing.’”“Thenthiscouldtakeallnight.”Only,wedidn’thaveallnight. Ihad togetback to theRidge.Todo

that,IneededtoknowwhatIwasupagainst.“Therewerelights,”Isaid.“OntheRidge.”

“That’s theBarrier,”Delane replied. “It’swhat youpassed through. Itprotectsusfromyou,andyoufromus.”

Every question Iwanted to ask led back to yet another question andthenanotherandanother.Itriedbackingup:“Thisplaceisreal?”

“I hope so,” said Delane, laughing. “Or I definitely ate something Ishouldn’thave.”

Iknewthefeeling.“TheBarrier’s beenhere forever,”he continued. “Moreor less. It’s an

energycreatedfrommagic.”Sothiswasadream.IwasunconsciousontheRidge.“Magic?”“Oldmagic.”“Butthereisnomagic.”“Notonyourside.Somewanteditthesamehere,too.Course,itdidn’t

quiteworkoutlikethat.Whydoyouthinkwe’reinthismess?”I didn’t get a chance to hazard a guess. Another knock came at the

door.Footstepsthunderedoverhead.DelanewasalreadyatthedoorwhenPointyTeethhurriedbackintotheroom.

“It’sSolandun,”saidPointy.“Isawhimfromupstairs.”Delane opened the door, and as soon as Sol entered, I knew my

opportunitytoaskquestionshadgone.Hedidn’tlookhappy.“Icouldn’tfindit,”hesaid.“It’scrawlingwithmasks.”“Whatdowedo?”askedDelane.“WegetMiaback,”Solreplied.Heofferedmeacursoryglance.“Dowe

havegrains?”Delaneshookhishead.HelookedtoPointy.“Rip?”“MaybeIcangetacouple,”Ripreplied.“Maybe.Butyoucan’ttakeher

upthereuntilthey’veclearedout.It’stoogreatarisk.”“Ifshe’sfoundhere,it’llbeworse.”Theargumentragedbackandforth,butInolongerheardtheirwords.

IfI’ddisappearedthroughthelightsandcomehere,sohadJay!IleaptupandpushedpastDelane,positioningmyselfrightinfrontof

Sol.“Sol,Jay!”Solnoddedslowly.ItwasallIneeded.“You knew,” I gasped. “About all of this. And the man I saw—the

hoodedman.”Again,henodded.

“Wehavetofindhim.”“Youcan’tgooutthere.”“Ihaveto.Jay’shere,Sol!”Soldidn’tblink.“Yes.”“Yes?”Iblurted.“That’sallyoucansay?Whatabouttheotherkids?”I

lookedfromSoltoRiptoDelane.“They’vetakensixotherboys.”“They’vebeenbringingthemover,”saidRip.ThentoSol:“That’swhat

Iwas trying to tellyouabout theBarrier.The same thinghappened lastnight.ItwaslikeanEquinoxbeganandthenjuststopped.Wethinktheyhavesolens.”

“Itwasus,”saidSol,wearily.“TheytookMia’sbrother,Jay,lastnight.Miawasthere.ShewaswearingtheSolenetta.”

“Mynecklace?”Iasked,increasinglyuneasy.“It’sjustapieceofjunk.”Noonereplied.“Andwhat’sitgottodowithJay?Whydidtheytakehim?”Silence.“Sol,why?” I couldn’t stand it any longer.Hewaswasting timewhen

Jaywassomewhereinthisnightmare.“Wehavetodosomething.He’smybrother,Sol.He’stenyearsold.”Itookastepforthedoor.

Solblockedmypath.“He’llbefound,Mia.”Yeah, right. Sol had known that Jaywas here all along and he’d said

nothing.NowheexpectedmetobelievethatJay’dsuddenlyjustappear?“Who’sgoingtofindhim?”

“Wehavepeoplelooking.”“Really?AndwhywouldanyoneherebelookingforJay?”I tried to push past him, but getting by Sol was like trying to walk

throughawall.“Iftheyfindyououtthere,they’llkillyou,”hesaid.Heraisedhishands

likehewastryingtocalmme.“Mia,I’mnotgoingtoletthathappen.”“We’llseeaboutthat.”Pumped,ready,Irememberedthephoneinmy

pocket.“I’mcallingthesheriff.Seewhathehastosayaboutthis.”I switched onmyphone.The displaywas blank. Itmust have gotten

crushedon theRidge.The thingwas ancient.Again Ipushed thepowerbutton.Helditdown.Nothing.

“Fine,” I said, refusing to look at Sol. “I’ll just go back and open thatBarrier-thing.Ididitonce.”

“Withsolens,”saidSol.

“ThenI’llgetmore.Someoneinthistownmusthavesome.”SolglancedatRipandDelane,thenlookedtotheground.“Mia,there

aren’tanyothers,”hesaid,softly.Ifaltered.“Thenhowdowegetback?”Ripthrusthishandsintohispockets.Delanestudiedthewall.OnlySol

wouldholdmygaze.I watched him back. Stuck? This nightmare was plunging into new

depths of terror. I pictured Pete wondering where I was, if he’d evennoticedIwasgone.AndWillie.She’dgonutsifIdisappeared.I’dtoldherthatI’dcallher.Iglancedatmyphoneinmyhand.Theuselessphone.MyonlylinktoCrownsville.

“Itcan’tbe,”Iwhispered.Trappedhere.Only,herewasexactlywhereIneededtobe.Ithought

ofJayinthehandsofapsychosomewhereinthishellishworld.Histimewastickingaway.

“Look, Mia,” said Sol. He sighed, his hand grazing mine with theslightesttouch.“Whateveryouthink,I’mnottryingtobedifficult.Iknowyou’re upset about your brother. But I have to get you home. Youshouldn’tbehere.Believeme.Thereisanotherwaytogetyouback,butitmeans returning to the Ridge and we can’t do that until they give uplooking.You’llhavetostay.Fornow.”

I’d barelyprocessedhiswords beforehewalked away from thedoor.RipandDelanedidthesame.

“Shecansleepupstairs,”saidRip,soundingrelievedthatthediscussionwasover.“Assoonasdawnhits,I’llgooutforgrains.Wemightgetlucky.Butweshouldallgetsomerest.Tomorrowcouldbealongday.”

Ihadnochoicebuttogoalongwiththeirplantonight,buttherewasn’tachanceinthisworld,oranyother,thatIwasleavingthisplacewithoutJay.

Reluctantly, I followedRip upstairs to a bedroom at the front of thehouse.Thewoodenfloor, likethebeams intheceiling,wasbuckledandbowed. I perched on the bed until Rip had left, then crept back to thedoorandopeneditacrack.Rip’sstepssoundedonthestaircase.Thenthethreeresumedtheirconversation,theirvoicesmuffled.

“Sohowmuchdowetellher?”askedDelane.ApausefollowedbeforeSolreplied.“Idon’tknow,”hesaid,hisvoice

deep,weary.“What’sthepoint,whenshehastogoback?”

TEN

I waited until the house fell silent, then tiptoed downstairs into the

darkenedroombelow.Ihadatwo-pointplan:FindJay,thengetthehellbacktoCrownsville.I’dalmostmadeitpastthetable,when—

“Iwouldn’tdothat.”Heart pounding, I spun around. A candle lit near the hearth. Sol

becamevisibleinoneofthefiresidechairs.Busted.“Iknewyou’dtrytoleave,”hesaid.Therewasnothingcockyintheway

hespoke.Hewascalm,resigned,as ifhe’dseenmecomingfromamileaway.Heleanedforward,elbowsrestingonhisthighs,hishandsdanglingbetweenthemashewatchedme.

Ifoldedmyarms.Sohe’dguessedwhatIwasupto.Itdidn’tmatter.I’dmade my decision and nothing he could say would change my mind.Nobody was searching for those boys. Alex Dash had been gone for aweek, others formonths. Surely theywould have been found already ifsomeonehad been looking. But Jay had only been gone for twenty-fourhours.Hecouldn’thavegottenthatfar.EverysecondIwaitedherewasawastedmoment.

“Ihavetofindhim,Sol.”Determined to remain composed, I turned for thedoor. I could cope

withtheinsanityofstumblingintoanotherworld,butonlyifIfocusedonJay.Solwouldgetnotearsortantrumsfromme;Iwasn’tgoingtobegforhishelp.He’dknowntheboyswerebeingbroughtherefromthemomentwe’dfirsttalkedatschool.He’dhadplentyofchancestohelp.He’ddonenothing.

“I’mgoingtostartwiththestreets,”Isaid,determinedheacceptthatIwasgoingtofindJay.“ThenI’llchecktheRidge.Someonemusthaveseenhim.”

Thedoorwasbothlatchedandlocked,butasmallblackkeyhungfromahook to the right. I took thekey andplaced it in the lock. Sol’s hand

slammedagainstthedoor.Myheartleaptintomymouth.Refusingtoturnaround,Ifelthimclosebehindmyshoulder.Ihadn’theardhimcrosstheroom.

“Youdon’ttrustme,”Solsaid,hisvoicelow,andclosetomyear.“Can’t imagine why you’d think that.” I tugged at the door handle,

readytostrikehimwithanelbowifhedidn’tbackdown.I tuggedagain.Sol’shanddarted to the lock. Inone swiftmotion,he

palmed the key, and then forced his fist back against the door.On theother side ofmybody, his other hand smacked against thewood. Iwascaged.

“Believeofmewhatyouwill,”hesaid,hisbreathwarmonthesideofmyneck.“ButIcan’tletyougooutthere.Iwon’t.”

I studied the prison he’d formed aroundme, themuscles in his armsstrainingashepushedagainstthedoor.Therewasnowayhewasgoingtogiveup.

CautiouslyIturnedtofacehim.InolongerbelievedSolwantedtokillme,andthatwassomething.Butwithhimstandingthisclose,IfeltlikeIhadonthedayhe’dgivenmearideinhistruck.Hispresenceconsumedthe space between us. The way he loomed over me—there was justsomethingsophysicalaboutSol.

“Idon’tunderstandwhyyouwon’tlistentome,”Isaid.Hewasn’tgoingtoscareme.“Whatdoyouexpectmetodo?”

Theonlylightintheroomcamefromthehearth.ItcaughtjustonesideofSol’s face.The golden flecks inhis eye glimmered.His jaw cast deepshadowsacrosshischest.Darknessandlight.

“Iwantyoutotrustme,”hesaid,toweringoverme.ButhowcouldI,whenallhe’deverdonewaslie?Defeated, I loweredmyhead.Thiswasn’t real. Itwasn’tmy life.Life

was school. ItwasMickey’s. ItwasgoingwithAndy toprom!Foronce,everythingwashowI’dwantedittobe.AndthenSolhadenteredmylife.NowIdidn’tevenknowwhereIwas.

“Idon’tknowwhattothink,”Iwhispered.“Isanyofthisevenreal?”Though I remained between Sol’s outstretched arms, he didn’t once

touchme.Icouldsmellhimallaroundme.Itwasthescentfromtheshirtin his bedroom and from the cabin of his truck. It reminded me ofCrownsville.

“It’sreal,Mia,”hesaid.

Finally,heloweredhisarmandbackedaway.Hewanderedacrossthenarrowroomtothefire.Afterplacingthekeyonthearmofthechair,hereachedforabrownbottleonthehearth.

ItwasonlythenthatIrealizedhowfastmyheartwaspounding.Anditwasn’tfromfearofallthathadhappenedsincetheRidge.Itwashim.Hedidthistome.Itwasn’tthesamenervousnessIfeltwhenIwaswithAndy—thosefeelingswereexplainable,understandable.Theywereright.WithSol,thefeelingsweredeeper,moremysterious.Ithadbeeneasiertoavoidthose feelings in Crownsville. I could just stay away from him. Now Icouldn’tescapethem—couldn’tescapehim.SolwasmyonlylinktoJay.

Iglancedatthebottleonhislap.“Poison?”Iasked.“Almost,”hereplied.“Ripmakes it. It’snotgood.”Heofferedmethe

bottle.Resigned to the fact that I wasn’t going anywhere, I sighed. I mean,

what could I really do? I didn’t knowwhere to find Jay. And even if Icould findhim, I’d thenhave to return to theRidge andgetusboth toCrownsville in onepiece. I didn’t evenhavemynecklace,which clearlywaspartofthereasonIwashere.

I headed for the fire, dropped into the opposite chair, and took thebottlefromSol.Idrankalongswig.Aspicy,burningliquidsetmytongueaflame andbrought tears tomyeyes.Almost choking, I handed it back.“YouknowI’mnottwenty-one.”

Solsmiled.ItwasthefirstsmileI’dseenfromhimsincewe’dsteppedthroughthelightsontheRidge.“Meneither,”hesaid.“Iwon’ttell.”

“Howoldareyou?”“I’mnineteen.”SoI’dbeenright.Hewasn’tseventeen.“ThenwhatthehellwereyoudoingatCrownsvilleHigh?”Helookedaway.ItwasaclassicSolmove.ButastrappedasIwas,Sol

was trapped here too.This time he couldn’t escapemy questions. “Youpromised you’d explain,” I said, dipping my head to reclaim his gaze.“Whenwewereouttherebefore.Yousaidyou’dtellmeeverything.”

“All right.” He pulled back his shoulders. “Mia, I was in Crownsvillebecause of thosemissing boys.We believed theymight snatch someoneoldernext.Weneededtobeontheinside.”

Okay. It was something, including a confession that he knew exactlywhatwasgoingon.

“Thenyouknowwho’s taken them.Youknowwhohas Jay.Sol, youhaveto—”

“HecallshimselftheSuzerain,”Solsaid,beforeIcouldfinish.“Andhe’stakenoverBrakalandfromheretothemountains.”

I paused. It wasn’t just because he’d answered so openly. It was thetoneofhisvoice,heavyandfilledwithdistasteforthispersonwho’dtakenJay.Ishivered.ItwaslikefindingSol’sswordinthetrunk.Ihadtoknow.ButdidIreallywantto?“Brakaland?”Iwhispered.

Henodded.“That’sthenameofthiscountry.”Thiscountry?ThecountryI’dtumbledinto.SuddenlyIfeltverysmall.“The guy who has Jay,” I asked, needing to understand. “When you

spokeofhim,itdidn’tsoundlikeyouweremuchofafan.Why?”CandlelightflickeredonSol’sfaceashedrankdeeplyfromthebottle.

Hestareddistantlyatthecandle’sflame,frowningasifhesawsomethingIcouldn’tsee.“Becausehewantstodestroyyourworld,”hesaid.

*

“Weliveinthespacesyoudon’tuse,”saidSol,“inaparallelworldhiddenbytheBarrier.Butourworldisshrinking.Asyourpopulationsandcitiesgrow,we losemore of our land.Therewere somewhowanted to sendemissaries, tobargainandkeepthepeace.Anotherforcewantedtofightback.”

Justamomentago,I’dthoughtnofurtherthanJayandtheRidgeandthetwistedcobbledstreetsofthisgodforsakentown.Nowawholeworldopeneduparoundme.OneIdidn’tknow.OneIdidn’tunderstand.OnethathadtakenJay.

But, indebateclass,Rifkinalways said that thecruxofanyargumentwasknowledge.Hetaughtusthatthespeakerwhotrulyknowsasubject,whocaninterpretit,bendit,examineitfromeveryangle,wasthespeakerwhowon.IfIwasgoingtofindJay,Ineededtoknoweverything.

“TheSuzerainisamancalledFinneusElias,”saidSol,asifsensingthatIwantedhimtocontinue.“He’samanofmagicandpersuasion.Heknowsyourworld.Hehasbeentheremanytimes.Heconvincedsomethatifhewereincontrolwecouldfighttoholdbacktheboundariesofyourworldand protect our own.Many disagreed and the two sides split. It turnedintoagreatwar.Eventually,hewasdefeated,butEliasdidn’tgiveuphiscause;hejustwentunderground.Heabductedthosewhowereskilledin

magictobuildanewforce.“Years passed.No one thoughtEliaswould ever return.And then he

cameback,onlythistimetheforceofhismagicwasmuchstrongerthananythingBrakalandhadeverseen.Heopenedgateways,otherBarrierstoworlds within worlds, gateways that were notmeant to be opened. Heliberated theWarnonMines in the southern deserts, which was once aBarriertoademonworld.”

“Demons?”Ispluttered.Thiswasinsane.ItwasastoryfromoneofJay’sgames.Ithadtobe.I

reached forSol’sbottle.Maybe thatdrinkwasn’t so rottenafterall.Theinitialstingfrommyfirstgulphadwornoff.NowIjustfeltnumbinside.

Sol leaned back in his chair, his gaze once again distant. “They’veinfestedthisplace,”hesaid.“TheSuzerainclaimshe’stheonlyonewiththemagical power to protect Brakaland from the demons. But the warbetween the Suzerain and the demons is a false one. He purposefullyreleasedthedemonstostartthiswar.Tomakehimselfirreplaceable.Heistheirmaster.”

And this was the man who had Jay. My panic rising, I could barelyspeak.“Wasithim?ThemanontheRidge?”

IonlyrealizedIwasclutchingthebottlewhenSolgentlytookitfrommyhand.Hewatchedmeclosely,likehewasreadytocatchmeifIfell.Icouldonlyimaginethelookonmyface.

“Ineedtoshowyousomething,”hesaid.“Itwillmakeiteasierforyoutounderstand.”

He placed the bottle back on the hearth, then headed to the doorbeside the staircase at the rear of the room. With legs like Jell-O, Ifollowed,mymind racingwithvisionsof Jayon theRidge. I thoughtofthenightthatAlexhaddisappeared.Ishouldhavedonesomethingmore.I should have gone into the fields and stopped it, and then maybe Jaywould never have been snatched. But why had he been snatched? ForwhatpossiblereasoncouldthisSuzerainwantaten-year-oldboy?

Asmall,shadowyroomlaybehindthedoor.Shelveslinedthewallsandthe glint of bottles and jars was visible in the dim light. Solmust haveknownwhathewas looking for; a second laterhe returnedwith a largeleather-bound book in his hands. He took the book to the table in thecenterofthemainroom.

“ThisiswhytheRidgeissoimportant,”hesaid,asIjoinedhim.

He opened the book to a map, the same map I’d seen at Old ManCrowley’swith that lineof tiny golden stars. I viewed itwith increasingtrepidation.NowIknewwhatitmeant.

“It’s thewaythrough, isn’t it?” Iasked. Itwasastruggle,but Ihadtoremaincalm.Analyze.Understand.Think.Jayneededmetobestrong.

“TheRidge is theweakest spot in theBarrier betweenBrakaland andyourworld,”saidSol.Everytimehespoke,he lookedatme,whethertocheck that Iunderstoodor to ensure Iwasn’t about to collapse, I didn’tknow. But his presence beside me, his controlled expression—it wasreassuring.

“There aremanyweak spots in the Barrier,” he continued, “but nonemore vulnerable than the Ridge. Theweakness there has formed a truegatewayandthepowerinthesolensreactstoit.”

He turned the page to a drawing of an amber-colored stone withsunbeams radiating from its surface. “Solens are crystals,” he added, as Ipeeredcloselyatthedrawing.“Ararestone.Theytakethousandsofyearsto form and can bemined in just one corner of ourworld.A completesolenisincrediblypowerful,somostaregroundintoapowder.Eachgrainholdsaweakenedspell.”Heclosedthebook.

“OnegrainwillopentheBarrierlongenoughforamantopassthrough.Itcanbedonehereoratacoupleofotherplaces.MostBarrierweaknessesarenolongerused;agrainisn’tstrongenoughtoopenthem.ButifEliasistoattackyourworld,heneedstobringdowntheBarrier.Hecan’tdothatwithgrains,Mia.Heneedssolens—completesolens.Andhe’lldoanythingtogetthem.”

Sol’swordswere sinking in.Thismanplanned to attackCrownsville!You couldn’t find amore harmless town, but trouble had foundus.Noone had any clue that a war was brewing on our doorstep. But thenBordertown was right next to Crownsville, and Sol said that Brakalandshrankaswegrew.Crownsvillehadgrownalotduringthelastfewyears.Therewaseventalkofamega-mallonsomefarmlandoffRoute6.

Thinkingofhome,myminddriftedtotheimageofmestandingatthemirror in my bedroom, thinking about prom with seven golden stonesdrapedaroundmyneck.“Mynecklace,”Iwhispered.

“Mia, your necklace contains seven of the largest solens ever found,”said Sol. “It is the Solenetta. It alone has the power to fully open theBarrierandtokeepitopen—theEquinox.”

The velvet box on my desk. Pete had given it to me when I’d firstarrivedinCrownsville.Foryears,ithadsatonmyclosetshelf,forgotten,buried beneath sweaters and empty shoeboxes. Increasingly uneasy, myvoicetrembled.“Sol,mymotherleftmethatnecklace.”

Hewasabouttoreplywhenaredorbglowedonthehearth.Breathless,mymindagainspinning,Iwatchedasheheadedtothedoorandpressedhis ear to the wood. A distant knock sounded from somewhere on thestreet.

“Upstairs,”hesaid.“Quickly.”We scurried to my room. Sol headed for the window. He carefully

pulledbackthethreadbaredrapes,andthenpeeredontothestreetbelow,beckoningformetojoinhim.

Two tall cloaked figures walked the cobbled street. They lingered ateverywindow,pressingtheirshroudedfacesagainsttheglass,knockingoneverydoor.IheldmybreathastheyapproachedRip’shouse,fightingtheurgetoduckortodiveontothebedandhidebeneaththeblanketslikeachild.Oneofthefiguresturnedwhenitreachedourhouse.Itsheadtilted,slowlysweepingitsgazetoourwindow.Icouldseenothingbeneaththeshadowofitshood.

“Don’tmove,”whisperedSol.“Itsensesourvibrations.”Believeme,Ihadnointentionofmoving.Butitappearedthatmattered

little. Itknewwewerehere, thoughwewereashiddenbydarknessas itwasshroudedinshadow.Itraiseditsarmstowardus.Somethingtoldmetoclosemyeyes,butfrozen,Icouldonlywatch.

Gnarled hands appeared out of the sleeves of its cloak. Long, bonyfingers lowereditshood,revealingachalkwhitefacewithskinstretchedtightoverabald,elongatedskull.Therewerenoeyes,nonose,nomouth—nothing.Onlypaleghastlyskinandamannequin’sblankfacewaitingforanartisttogiveitlife.

Then that life appeared. Gradually, features emerged. Wide eyes,cherubcheeks...Icoveredmymouthtostiflemyscream.ThecreaturehadturnedintoJay.

“Whatdoyousee?”whisperedSol.I couldn’t reply. Every curve, every line of the creature’s face was a

perfectreplicaofJay’s.Ithadthesamelookinitseyes,thesameturnofitsmouth.And if ithadn’tbeen standingalmost seven feet tall, IwouldhaveswornthatitwasJay.

Sol pulledmeback from thewindow,his hand gentle onmy arm. “Iwantedyoutoseeit,”hesaid.“Soyouknow.”

Barelydaringtomove,Ishuffledawayfromthewindowanddroppedontothebed.NothinginSol’stalehadpreparedmeforwhatI’djustseen.Beforehisstoryhadbeenonlywords.Inthefaceofthatsinistercreature,itwasreal.

“It’savisagedemon,”saidSol.“Wecallthemmasks.”Shocked,sickened,Icouldhardlyspeak.“ItwasJay.”“It’s whatever image they pluck from your mind and cast onto that

canvas.”“Yousawdifferent?”Solshookhishead. “Itwasn’t focusedonme.They’retaintedbydark

magic, createdby theSuzerain fromoneof thebreedshe released fromthe Warnon Mines. Their bodies can change too. They know yourthoughts, Mia. Show you exactly what you want to see, holding yourattentionuntilyou’vestaredsolong,it’stoolatetogetaway.”

The tall, hooded figure on the Ridge. I tucked my trembling handsbeneathmythighs.“That’swhattookJay.”

“TheycontroltheBarrierfortheSuzerain.”“ButwhywouldJaygowithsomethinglike . . .” Iclosedmyeyes,no

longerneedingSoltoanswerthatquestion.IknewwhathadhappenedtoJay. Though I was the master at restraining my emotions, this time Icouldn’tholdbackthetears.AllIcouldseewasmyselfandJaystandingintheyardwithmistyvaporssnakingthroughthecornfield.Theyshowyouexactlywhatyouwanttosee.

“Hetoldmehesawhismom,”Ichoked.“Hethoughtitwassafe.”We stayed in silence for the longest time. Not once did Sol try to

comfort me or tell me that everything was okay. He’d shown me thevisagedemonforareason.Everythingwasnotokay.

“Mia,youcan’tgoouttherealone,”saidSol.“Thereareotherdemonsoutthere,creaturesworsethanthemasks.TheyknowsomethingpowerfulopenedtheBarrier.They’llbelookingforyou.”

ThoughSolwashere,I’dnever inmylifefeltsoalone,notevenafterGrandmahaddiedandI’dstoodonPete’sdrivewaywithasuitcaseatmyfeet, gazingupat ahouseandaman Ididn’tknow.Thiswasworse.AtleastthenI’dunderstoodsomethingofmysurroundings.Ithadmadesomekindofsense.

“Wehavetofindmynecklace,”Isaid.“There’sagoodchancewewill,”saidSol.Hecrouchedinfrontofme,

takingmyhand in his strong grip, forcingme to keepmy gaze on him.“There are somewhomake a living smuggling goods across the Barrier.Runners.Theybringincontrabandandthenusetheprofitstofundsolengrainsfortheirnexttrip.Onegraintogetacross,onetogetback.GangsofRunnersoperate inanytownwherethere’saweakness,especiallyhere inBordertown.NothinghappensontheRidgethat theydon’tknowabout.That’sourhopeforfindingtheSolenetta.”

Ididn’tletgoofhishand.“AndJay?”Solnarrowedhiseyesas if searching for the rightwords. “Finding Jay

willbecomplicated,”hesaid.AscomplicatedasitfelttohavemyhandinSol’sashefinallyopened

up tome.My feelingswere never complicated aroundAndy.Andywasstraightforward,evenwiththedramaofhison-offrelationshipwithJessicaandWillie’sdreamsofromanceandfatedlove.ButSol...

“Whydidtheytakehim?”Iasked.“Theotherkidstoo?”“It’scomplicated,”hesaid,again.“Wherearetheytakingthem?”“They’retakingthemtoOrion.It’sacityhereontheplainsandtheseat

oftheSuzerain.”Every time I heard that name—Suzerain—a shiver traveledmy spine.

“Howfarisit?”“Dependsontheroute,”saidSol.“Lessthantwodaysontheroad.”Isqueezedhishand,desperateforhimtounderstand.“Thenwehaveto

gothere,Sol.”Hewatchedmeforalongmoment,thenslowlygottohisfeet.Ashis

handslippedfrommine,alltraceofemotionfledfromhisface.“Wehavepeople there,”he said, straightening. “We’re looking for thosekids,Mia.All thatmatters now is thatwewait for theRidge to clear and get youback to theOtherSide.”He turned for thedoor. “You should sleep. I’llfetchyouinthemorningwhenweknowmore.”

I let him leave, but only because I knew hewouldn’t tellmewhat Iwantedtoknow.WheneverI’dmentionJay,he’dpullback.Hewashidingsomethingand Iwasgettingbetter at spottingwhenhedid.Therewereholes inhis story,great,gapingholesyoucouldalmoststepthrough.Heknewittoo.Itwasobviousinhisface.Heknewwherethisstoryled.

Myparents.Somehowthey’dbeeninvolvedinthis.HowelsewouldIhavehad theSolenetta?Mymotherhadclearly taken thenecklace fromsomewhere and it had landed her in a heap of trouble. But in troublewhere?Here?OrontheothersideoftheBarrier?Ididn’tdoubtthatmyfather was mixed up in there somewhere, too. There was only oneconclusionthatmadesense:MyparentsmusthavebeenRunners.

I listened forSol’s stepson the stairs, seizing thismomentofquiet toprocesswhathe’dtoldme.TherewasstillPetetoconsider.Wheredidhefit inall this?Hemusthaveknownhis sisterwas involved in somethinghuge.Wasthatthereasonforhisbroodingsilences?

Exhausted,but toowired to sleep, Iknelton thebedandpeeredoutthewindow.The visage demon stared up at the house, Jay’s image stillcaston its face. Ithadn’tmoved from its spot—not an inch—sincewe’dseen it. Would it stay there all night? Would it still be waiting in themorning?Whateverimageithadfoundinmymind,I’dseenthecreaturechange.Iknewwhatitreallywas.Itcouldn’ttrickmeasithadtrickedJay.

Chilled, I sank down and stared blankly at the wall, the only thingseparatingmeandademontemptingmewithmybrother’sface.

ELEVEN

I layawake formostof thenight, torturingmyselfwith imagesof the

visage demon and Jay on the Ridge. As the first light of dawn camethroughthewindow,Itookanotherpeekoutside.Thevisagedemonhadgone.

Thoughhe’dpromised towakeme,Soldidn’t appearatmydoor.Sowhenitwasclearfromthevoicesbelowthattheotherswereup,Iwentdownstairstofindouttheplan.

SolandDelanewerenowheretobeseen.AnoldermansatatthetablewithRip.Amanwithbushywhitehair and laugh lines aroundhis eyesandmouth.

“OldManCrowley!”Iblurted.“Imean,Mr.Crowley.Imean—what?”Crowley’sagedfacebeamedasifthiswerethemostnaturalmeetingin

theworld.Iwasn’tsureifhewouldhaverecognizedmeinCrownsvilleifI’d run him over with Rusty, but it appeared he was more thancomfortableseeingmehere.

“Mia,”hesaid,hisvoicewheezyandlight.“Rip’sbeentellingmeaboutyouradventure.Quitetheturnofevents,don’tyouthink?”

The black coat he alwayswore around town lay on the bench besidehim,areminderofhowcloseIwastohome.Close,butoutofreach.

“Idon’tunderstand,”Isaid.Grinning,hegesturedformetojointhem.Thebrokencapillariesonhis

cheeksglowedwithhissmile.“TiametCrow’sthename,”hesaid,asIsat.“Atleast,itisonthissideoftheBarrier.”Heflashedaconspiratorialwink.

“Butwhatareyoudoinghere?”“I live here,” said Crowley, Crow, Tiamet—I couldn’t keep up. “You

didn’treallythinkIlivedinthatoldshed?”“Actually,Idid,”Isaid,apologetically.“Soyouknowallaboutthis?”Ripofferedmeacupofsomethinghotanddark.Ithoughtofthedrink

I’dsharedwithSollastnightandwonderedwhetherthislatestconcoctionwassafetotaste.

“Tiamet’saRunner,”saidRip.“BestBordertownRunnerforfiftyyears.”“And getting too old for it,” said Crowley. “We’ve been watching

CrownsvilleeversinceEliascreptbackoutofthedirt.It’snotaneasyjob.When I heard Solandun was coming over, I seized the chance to slipaway.”

Sitting beside Crowley, my confidence grew. Crowley meantCrownsville—home.Home,Iunderstood.

“You said, ‘We’ve been watching Crownsville,’” I stated. “There areothers?”

“Afew,”Crowleyreplied.A few being two, three, four, or fifty? Did everyone know about

BordertownandBrakaland,exceptforme?Iwasalwaysthelasttoknow.“Myuncle,”Isaid.“Pete.”

Crowleynodded,seeminglyhappytochatterawayaboutanythingandeverything.ItwasawelcomechangeafterhavingtopryinformationoutofSol.“Heknowsthisworld,”hesaid.

ThenPetemusthaveknownwhathadhappenedtoJay,theotherskids,too.Hismoodsmadesenseat last.Nowonderheoftenactedlikeitwasthe end of the world. If he knew there was a war on Crownsville’sdoorstep,italmostwas.Buthowdeeplyinvolvedwashe?Didhetalkwiththese“others”whoknewaboutBrakaland?DidhemeetwithCrowley,orevenSol?WouldhetellthesheriffthatI’ddisappearedtoo?

AssoonasIthoughtofthesheriff,IpicturedWillieandanewdayinCrownsville startingwithoutme. ItwasSaturday, she’dbe at volleyball,and probably wouldn’t even know I’d vanished if Pete hadn’t saidanything.Maybeshewouldn’tfindoutifPetecameovertofetchmefirst.Jaytoo!IfPeterescuedus,wecouldslipbackandnoonewouldnoticeI’dbeengone.

Pete would no longer be able to keep his silence. I knew about thisplace—Brakaland,Bordertown.IknewaboutaworldontheRidge,hiddenbytheBarrier.Iknewtherewasmoretomymother’sstorythanPetehadleton.Solhadn’tbeenwilling to tellmeabouther either,but Ihad an

idea.“Pete’ll be freaking out,” I said toCrowley, as casually as I could. “It

mustbelikeMomandDadalloveragain.”Crowley’s grin faltered. He glanced at Rip. Rip immediately looked

away.Jackpot.“Petedoesn’tliketotalkaboutit,”Icontinued,asifIkneweverything

therewastoknow.“It’shardforhim,whathappenedtothem.”Crowleywatchedmeoutofthecornerofhiseye.“Sometimeslife’slike

that,”hesaid.“ButPete’sabigboy.Heknowswhat’swhat.”“IfonlyMomhadn’ttakenthatnecklace,right?”Iknewitwaslame.IknewIwaslamefortryingit,butwhatdidIhave

tolose?Ihadtoseizemychanceswhentheycame.“Well,”saidCrowley.“I—”The door opened and a cool breeze wafted into the room. Sol and

Delane had returned. I held in my groan. OldMan Crowley had beenclosetolettingsomethingslip!

“DuddonMalone’smenwereseenattheBarrierlastnight,”announcedDelane, closing the door behind them. “They were talking to sentinels.Malone was up there again this morning. His gang left town at dawn.Headingwest.”

“Thentheymusthavesomethingtosellinthecity,”saidRip.Solsatbesidemewithoutgreeting.HisCrownsvilleclothesweregone.

He was dressed like Delane—dark, loose pants, gray linen shirt, blackleatherboots.Helookedgood.Strangelyright,asifthejeanshe’dworninCrownsvillehadbeenpartofacostume.Iguesstheywere.

“WethinkitmightbetheSolenetta,”hesaid.Then,toCrowley:“Weneed grains, Tiamet. Rip’s been all over. The town’s dry. Can you getthem?”

“WhydoyouthinkI’mhere?”Crowleyreplied.Heshotmeaquizzicallook frombeneathhis eyebrowsbefore refocusing onSol. “Last I heard,theDobbstwinshadgrains,butthey’renotlikelytosell.Theyneedthemforbusiness.Ihearthere’saRunnergangsellinginFortknee.Supposedlythey’reheading thisway, but if they’re selling, theymightnothave anyleftbythetimetheyreachus.”

“We could ride for it,” saidDelane to Sol. “Fortknee’s less than eighthours.”

Sol appeared to give the suggestion serious thought. He watched

Delane,andfromthelookonDelane’sface,itwascleartheconversationcontinuedbetweenthemunspoken.ItwasjustlikemeandWillie.

“Fortknee is too far,” Sol finally said. “By the time we got there,Malone’sgangwouldalmosthavereachedOrionwiththeSolenetta.We’dnevercatchthem.”

“If they have the Solenetta,” said Delane. “They could be sellinganything.”

“We can’t take that chance. Tiamet, any way you could get toFortknee?”

“Withmyback?”saidCrowley.“It’dtakemethreeweeks.”“Thenwehavetomakeachoice,”saidSol.Helookedfromonetothe

other.“TheSolenettacan’treachtheSuzerain.”“IfMalonehasit,he’dbewithhisgangrightnow,”continuedDelane,

enforcinghispointwithataponthetable,“ridingfullpelttoOrion.”“I doubt it,” said Sol. “That would announce that he has something

special.He’dstaywellaway,travelalone.Hewouldn’twanttodrawthatkindofattentionfromtheothergangs.”

“Orhe’dgiveitstraighttothesentinels.”“Andmissanopportunitytobargainforthebestprice?NotMalone.”Delaneshrugged.“Thenwe’rebackatthebeginning.”“Notquite,”saidSol.I was happy to listen and soak up whatever information I could. It

mighthelpme findJay.But I foundmyselfdrawn in toSol’swords,hispresence.Iwasnotalone.Riphungoneveryword,andCrowley,atleastfiftyyearshiselder,noddedateverythingSolsaid.Atthistable,Solwasrespected.

“Rip can send a couple of men to Fortknee,” said Sol, seeminglyoblivioustothewaytheywatchedhim.Ormaybehewasjustusedtoit.“Thatwayweatleastknowthere’sachanceforgrains.Miacanhidehereuntiltheyreturn.”

Waithere?Ihadn’tagreedtothat.AftereverythingSolhadtoldmelastnight,heexpectedmetosithereanddonothing?

“Thenwe head off afterMalone’s gang,” saidDelane. “At last. Someaction.”

“Notyet,”saidSol.“I’drathernotleaveMiaaloneunlessweabsolutelyhave to. Let’s find outwhatMalone’s got.”He looked atCrowley. “It’stimetomakeahousecall.”

Itwastimetospeakup.“I’llcometoo,”Isaid.“Theonlyplaceyou’regoingisCrownsville,”Solreplied.“NotwithoutJay.Youbroughtmehere,Sol,don’t—”Hestiffenedatmyside,thegoldinhiseyesflaringasheturnedtoface

me.“ItoldyoutostopontheRidge,”hesaid.“Itoldyounottodoit.”“Youtoldmenothing!”Ireplied.“ButnowI’mhereanduntilwefind

Jay,everywhereyougo,Igo.I’mcoming,Sol,andthere’snothingyoucandoaboutit.”

Awheezychucklesplitthetension.OldManCrowleystruggledtohisfeet. “She’s a Crownsville girl, all right. Bring her along. Malone won’tknowwhat’shithim!”

My new number one favorite person in the world—any world—OldManCrowley, headed for the door, but turned backwhenwe began tofollow.Helookedmeupanddown.“Secondthoughts,”hesaid,offeringmeanothertoptotail.“Youcan’tgooutlookinglikethat.NotunlessyouplanonsettingyourselfupasanewRunnerintown.”

Suddenly, all eyes were on me. I checked to make sure I hadn’tsproutedagutterscamp’stailovernight,thennoticedmyjeans.“Ohno,”Isaid.“IfyouthinkI’mwearingadress,youcanforgetit!”

*

Rip happened to have one dress, a red, floor-length sack that weighedabouttenpoundsandreekedasifithadspentthelasttwoyearsrottinginthebottomofanoldchest.Ofcourse, it justhad tobemysize.Surely,wearingasandwichboardwith“I’mnotfromaroundhere”inhugeletterswouldhavebeenlessconspicuous.Thefeelingdisappearedassoonaswesteppedoutside.

DaylighthadfilledthestreetsofBordertownwithpeople, the likesofwhichInevercouldhaveimagined.ThefirstmanIsawoutsidethehouselookedasIwouldhaveexpected,butforhisthick,longblackhair,whichhadbeenbraidedlikerope,coiledaroundhistorso,andtiedinaknotathiswaist.Aportly,elderlywomanhadtattoosofplantsandflowers, thespeciesofwhichIdidn’tknow,acrossherarmsandneck.Ialsosawtails.Isaw scales. Eyes of every color. Skin of every shade.My plain red dresslookedaseverydayasjeansandaT-shirtinCrownsville.

I triednottostareaseveryonewentabouttheirbusiness.Butwhenawoman Willie’s height, half her weight, and with a ridge of iridescent

greenspinesalongthebackofherarmspassedus,Icouldn’thelpbutask.“What’swrongwiththem?”IwhisperedtoCrowley.“Wrong?”askedCrowley.“Manyarepure,maybetheonlypurethings

leftinthisworldofathousandraces.”I’d assumed this world was filled with people like Sol and Delane,

regular-lookingpeople.Butathousandraces?“Somany?”Iasked.“Aren’ttheyhuman?”“They’reallkinds,”saidCrowley.“Plentylooklikeyou,too.”Iguessedhewasright.Therewereregular-lookingfolk.Itwasjusteasy

tomissthemamongthespectacles.“Whatkindsofracesarethey?”“Whocannamethemallthesedays?”hesaid,as if itwasnobigdeal.

“There were originally five great families. The Bala and the Samu. TheBeseyeandtheSimbia.AndthentheNorgoncar,afamilyofspirits.Overtime,SamubredwithSimbia,andBeseyewithNorgoncar.Andlookwhatyouget!Betterthaneveryonelookingthesame,don’tyouthink?”

Honestly?Ididn’tknow.“Sowhat are you?” I asked. I tried not to stare as a beardedwoman

passedonmyright.“Youlookhuman.”“Asdoyou.”“Iamhuman.”“Thenthat’swhatyoumustbe.AsamI.”Totally befuddled, I looked at Sol and Delane, who walked ahead. I

thoughtaboutSol’stattooandthegoldenflecksinhiseyes,butthoughtitwasprobablyimpolitetoaskCrowleyoutrightaboutSol’sfamily.

Weturnedoff the roadandontoa side streetencased in shadow.SolandDelanestoppedatalowwoodendoor.

“Mia,stayquietinhere,”saidSol,asCrowleyandIjoinedthem.Iwasstillkindofannoyedthatheblamedmeforbeinghere.Afterlast

night,Ithoughtwe’dmovedbeyondallthat.Iputafingertomylips.“I’m serious,” he said. “If someonewanted to buyMalone’smother’s

blood,hewouldslitherthroatandbleedherdry.”“Ican’twaittomeethim.”“Justdon’tforgetwhatheis.”“Andwhat’sthat?”Iasked,feigningboredom.“He’stheleaderofthelargestRunnergangbothhereandinanyofthe

townswithBarrierweaknesses,”saidSol.“Hebuys,steals,andsellstothe

highest bidder. And not just things,Mia—people, information. NothinghappensinthispartofBrakalandthathedoesn’tknowabout.He’llknowsomeonecame through theBarrier.He’sbeen talkingwith sentinels andtheyworkfortheSuzerain.”

“Then I’ll keep my mouth shut,” I said, knowing I sounded peevish.“Gladtohelp.”

“I’llgofirst,”saidCrowley.Hepushedtothefront.“MaloneowesmeafavorafterthelastloadIbroughtacrossforhim.Let’sseeifwecan’tkeepthisfriendly.”

CrowleyputhishandonSol’sarmasheknocked,andIcouldn’thelpbut think that his final comment had been directed at Sol. Crowleyknockedagain.Then,withoutwaitingforananswer,heopenedthedoorandthetwosteppedinside.IfollowedwithDelane,curioustomeetamanwho’d sell his own mother’s blood but annoyed that Sol was right.Sometimesitwasbesttokeepyourmouthshut.Thiswasprobablyoneofthosetimes.

“Staybehindme,”whisperedDelane,asheclosedthedoor.“Thisone’saclawcurler.”

Carefulnottotripovermydress,Ishuffledintoavast,butlow,room.Cratesandboxes,stackedfloortoceiling,formedlong,gloomyaisles,likeaTarget fromHell.Lining theaisleswerepilesofchairs, rugs, suitcases.Postersofsailboats,kittens,andcityscapeshungonthewalls.Therewasabicycle,achild’sdrumkit,hatstands,cabinets,allstackedrandomly,likethecartireontheottomantomyright,andthelawnmowerdrapedwithladies’ scarves.Agrandfatherclock ticked in thecorner.Everythingherecamefrommyworld.Mostofitlookedlikejunk.Iwonderedhowmuchhad originated in Crownsville and whether, if I looked long enough, ImighthappenupontheiceskatesI’d“lost”inseventhgrade.

“Lookwhoitis.”The voice came from the rear of the room, butwith Sol andDelane

blockingmyview,Icouldn’tyetseetheinfamousMalone.IpeeredoverDelane’sshoulder,butcouldn’tspyanyoneamidtheboxes.

Shuffling footsteps followed and then Duddon Malone appeared. Idon’tknowwhat I’dexpected.Adark, swarthyvillainwith scarsandaneyepatchmaybe?WhatIsawinsteadwasasmall,fatmanwithcurlygrayhair,redcheeks,andeyestomatch.Hebobbedashewalked,likealittleredrobinsnufflingforworms.

“Thisisararehonor,”hesaid,hisvoicedeeperthanIexpectedfromamanofhisheight.“Comeforsomethinginparticular?”

“We’ve come for information,” said Crowley. He stepped in front ofSol.“Aboutwhathappenedlastnight.Thewholetownsawit.”

“And the whole town’s talking about it,” said Malone. He waddledcloserandcaughtsightofmepeeringoutfrombehindDelane.HelookedatSol.“SureIcan’ttemptyouwithsomethingexpensiveinstead?Fortheyounglady,perhaps?”HissmilerevealedteethmoresharplypointedthanRip’s.“I’mcertaintohavesomethingshe’dlike.”

ThoughSolwasalmosttwiceMalone’sheightandprobablycouldhavesneezedhimtotheground,theguystillcreepedmeout.GivenachoicebetweenastaringcontestwithMalone’spinkeyesandthevisagedemonbeneathmywindow,I’dtakethedemononeverytime.

“Letmeshowyouthis,”hesaid,and,without looking, forcedhisarmintotheclutteronanearbydesk.“IknowIleftitsomewhere.Ahh,hereitis.”

Hewithdrewaplastictiara,likefromachild’scostumebox,butitwasthetattooedeyeonthebackofMalone’shandthatcaughtmyattention.The eye was large and lined thickly in black, the iris green. I felt itwatchingme. In fact, IwascertainMalonehadused theeye to find thetiara.Itwasn’tacomfortingthought.

I glanced at Delane for a reaction, but he looked bored. Crowley’sexpressionshowedsomethingdifferent:Hestillexpectedtrouble.

“Just information for today,Duddon,” saidCrowley. “Youcanat leastsparethat.”

“Tiamet,”saidMalone.HeplacedthetiarabackonthedesklikeitwastheQueen of England’s jewels. “What can I say that youwon’t alreadyknow?”HisgazeshotagaintoSol,buttheeyeonhishandstaredatme.Ishuffled closer toDelane andconcededSol’spoint. Iprobably shouldn’thavecome.

“How about a charm?” continuedMalone. “Ormaybe a bracelet.Orperhapsanecklace.”

A loud crash followed. I jumped about a foot in the air. Sol hadknockedacrateofdishesofftheshelfbesidehim.Chinashatteredatourfeet.

Without word, Sol headed for Malone, Delane close on his heels.Crowleyimmediatelyintervened.

“Duddon,justtelluswhatyouknowandwe’llbegone.”FromthepurposeinSol’sstrides,itdidn’tappearthathewasreadyto

playMalone’sgamesanylonger.“How about a necklace?” Sol hissed. He towered over Malone’s

quivering mass. “Now that you mention it. Something in yellow. Gotanythinglikethat?”

Malone’s ratty eyes darted left and right. “Afraid I don’t,” he gasped.“Soundsexpensive,though.Wouldn’thaveanytroublefindingabuyerforsomethinglike—”

SolgrabbedMalone’sthroat.IfeltlikeIshouldlookaway,butanotherpartofmewantedtoseeMalonegetwhathedeserved.Morethanthat,Solandthissuddenshowofforcegrippedme.I’dseenhimwithaswordin his hand, but it hadn’t registered that Solwould use it as aweapon.WithhisfingersaroundMalone’sthroat,Solhadunleashedapowerthatalwayssimmeredinsidehim.

“WhathappenedattheBarrierlastnight?”hespat.“Twopeoplecamethrough,”splutteredMalone.“Who?”“Nooneknows!Theyweregonebythetimethesentinelsarrived.”“Whatelse?”“Nothingelse.”Malone’sskinwasturningpurple.“ThenwhywereyouontheRidgethismorning?”Malone’schubbyfingersgrappledSol’sgrip.Soldidnotletgo.“Youknowtherules,”hewheezed.“EverythingthatentersBordertown

comesthroughme.”“Rulescanbechanged,”Solgrowled.“Iwasjustfishingforgossip,”repliedMalone,tryingtoshakehishead.

“TheBarrier’smybusiness.PickonTiamet.He’supthereoftenenough.”Solshovedhimback,almostknockingMaloneoffhisfeet.“Yougetting

cozy with sentinels ismy business,” he spat. “If you want to keep thisoperationgoing,you’dbetterlearntocooperate.Doyouunderstand?”

Malone stayed back, his hands at his throat, his gut heaving as hebreathed.“Iknowhowthingsworkaroundhere.”

“Thendon’tforgetit,”saidSol,turningtowardthedoor.Weallfollowed.Happytobeleaving,I liftedmyskirttonavigatethe

broken china. I glanced back, uncomfortable letting Malone out of mysight. Malone leaned against a cabinet, arms folded, with a sly smile

plasteredacrosshisface.Hisgazedroppedtomyfeetandlingeredthere.Withaverybadfeeling,Ihurriedaftertheothersandbackontothestreet.

“Heknows,”saidSol.“Tiamet?”“He’sgot it, all right,”Crowley replied,puffing tokeepupwithSol’s

longstrides.“Sowhatdowedoaboutit?”“Wegoafterthem.MiacanstaywithRipuntilwecangetgrains.”Iwasalmostjoggingtokeepup,thesightsandspectaclesaroundmeall

butforgotten.“Guys,”Isaid.“Ithink—”“Wecanmake it ifwehead straightout,” saidDelane. “Cut themoff

beforeMalonesendsawarning.”“Cheatinglittlerat,”saidSol.Ijoggedafewmoresteps.“Guys!”Finally,theystoppedandturned.Ilookedfromonetotheother,hating

tobreakbadnews,but,“Ithinkwehaveaproblem.”“Abigproblem,”agreedDelane.“TheSolenettaisdefinitelyenrouteto

theSuzerain.”“Adifferentproblem.”Icheckedthestreet,thenraisedthehemofmy

skirt.“Sneakers?”exclaimedSol.Isagged.“Ithinkhesawthem.”“Ripgaveyoushoes.”“They barely fit! Besides, I’ve seen other people wearing sneakers.

Look!”Ipointedtoascalyguyacrossthestreet.“They’reNikes.”“It’snotthesame,”saidSol.“DidMaloneseethemornot?”Inodded.“Then it won’t take much for him to put the pieces together,” said

Delane. He placed his hands on his head. “People in sneakers?Mia, heknowswheretheygotthem.Hesoldthem!He’sgoingtobesuspiciousofanythingfromyourworldthatdidn’tcomethroughhim.”

IstoodinthatstreetinthatstupiddresswithSol,Delane,andCrowleylookingatmelikeIwasstupid.OnelittleexcursionandI’dalreadycausedtrouble.Andhere Iwas thinking I could rescue Jay. If onlyWilliewerehere, she’d back me up on this—she’d tell them that you can’t walkaroundinshoesthatbarelyfit!ButWilliewasn’there.Ihadnoone.

Thebellwe’dheardlastnightbegantoring.Peoplestopped.Murmursrose from the crowds. Sol paced the width of the street, muttering

beneathhisbreathinalanguageIwascertainIdidn’tknow.“Bandanutidi...”orsomethinglikethat.Ididn’tneedatranslatortoworkoutwhathesaid:Wewereintrouble.

“He’ssummonedthesentinels,” saidCrowley, theonlyoneofuswhostillseemedtohavekepthiswits.“They’lltearthistownapartlookingforher.”

I checked left and right, convinced that everyone was looking at me.Theyweren’t.Some looked to theair, someat theground.Most simplymadeanabout-faceandhurriedaway.

Solpulledhimselfbacktogether.Hetookmyarm.“Canyouride?”heasked,asweranforRip’s.

“Likeabike?”“Likeahorse.”“Icandrive,”Ioffered.“That’salittlemoreconspicuousthanwewant.”Delanesprintedtoourside.“It’snotboringwithyouaround,Mia,”he

said,grinninglikehewashavingthetimeofhislife.“Guessthedecision’smade.You’llhavetocomewithustoOrion.”

TWELVE

ItossedwhatclothesIhadintothebagRipgaveme.Iwasgratefulforthe

task; itgavemesomethingtodowithmyhands. Icouldheartheothersmovingarounddownstairs.Wedidn’thavelonguntilweleft.

Irummagedthroughthebagformyjeans,andpulledmyphonefromthepocket.IfIcouldgetpower,justthefaintestsignal,IcouldtextPete:“Ivcrssdbarrier+J’shr.Help!”

Myphonewasstilldead.“Crap.”Butatleastonethinghadturnedinmyfavor.WewereheadedforJay.Adoordownstairsbanged.Ishovedmyphonebackintothepackand

wenttothestairs.Riphadreturned.Thesecondwe’dtoldhimwhathadhappened,he’ddartedintotownforthelatestnews.

“Thetown’sswarmingwithsentinels,”hesaid,“andthey’reheadingthisway.IgothorsesfromtheDobbstwins.You’llfindthemattheirmother’splace.”

IscurriedtoSol’sside,hoistingmypackontomyshoulders,prayingforthestrengthtoseethisthrough.ItwaswhatIwanted—tobesearchingforJay.YetstillIfeltlikeIwasabouttoplungeofftheedgeofacliff.

Ripcontinuedtopace.“OneofMalone’scronieshasalreadyleft,ridingfull pelt on theOrion road.Hemust have gone to warn the gang thatyou’reontothem.You’llnevercatchthemnow.”

“Then we’ll have to cross Welkin’s Valley,” said Sol. “Cut them offbeforeOrion’sgates.”

Ripstoppeddead.“Thevalley?You’renotserious.”“I’mserious,”saidSol.Dentally challenged as Ripwas, the guy had clearly been around the

block.Thathewasn’thappywithSol’splandidnotinspiremyconfidence.Herepeatedlyshookhishead.

“Solandun, there’s naught in the valley but demons. The place iscursed.”

“It’sthefastestway,”saidSol.“Nobodywillinglyentersthevalleyunless—”Sol placed his hands on Rip’s shoulders, squeezing them gently. He

looked Rip square in the eyes. “We can do it,” he said, quietly andconfidently.“Wewilldoit.”

I’dnever seenanything like it—ayoungerguyholdinganolderman’sgazewithaself-assurancebeyondhisnineteenyears.

Crowley, red in the face from sprintingback fromMalone’s, came toSol’s side. “Then you’ll need more weapons,” he said to Sol, almostproudly.HeturnedtoRip.“Thatmeansrepellerorbsanddecimators,Rip.Asmanyasyou’vegot.”

The tensionbetweenSolandRipbrokeaseveryone set intoa secondflurryofactivity.Thiswasit.Thestartofourjourney.

IlookedatOldManCrowley.“You’recoming,right?”Warmth filledCrowley’s eyes. “Notme,Mia,” he said. “I’d just slow

youdown.Besides,someone’sgottostaywithRipandcoveryourtracks.”Of course. I’d never considered themess we were leaving behind in

Bordertown.MaloneknewtwopeoplehadcrossedtheBarrier lastnight.HeknewSolwantedtheSolenetta.He’dseenme,astranger insneakersfromtheOtherSide.Hewouldhavetobeanidiotnottoputittogether.Clearly,hewasn’t.

“Can’tyouslipback toCrownsvilleand tellPetewhat’shappened?” Iasked,unabletobelievewhyIhadn’tthoughttoaskearlier.

“Gotnograins,”Crowleyreplied.“Ofcourse,”Isaid.“Ikeepforgetting.”I pictured the cafeteria at CrownsvilleHigh and all the times I’d sat

theretalkingwithWillieandKieranandSeth.Wewereateam,wesharedeverything. A new team was forming around me, one I knew nothingabout.

“Idon’tgetit,”IsaidtoCrowley.“Malone’salreadygottheSolenetta.Whydoeshecareaboutme?”

Crowley,Tiamet,reachedformyhand.“Don’tworryaboutthedetails,Mia, or you’ll drive yourself insane. Just keep yourself safe. Trust

Solandun.TrustDelane.Theyknowwhatthey’redoing.”Andsoitseemed.Solthrustaswordintomyhand.“Ihavetofight?”“Justtrytostayalive,”saidSol.Iliftedthesword.ItwaslighterthantheoneinSol’strunkandshorter

thantheoneSolhadtakenwhenhe’dgonebacktolookforSolenettalastnight. Nevertheless, it was heavy and wobbled in my grip. “I can’t usethis.”

“Mia,youmayhaveto,”saidSol.Itriedtoimaginewhatitwouldbeliketoactuallyuseit.Iwasalways

thepeacekeeperat school,gettingbetweenKieranandWilliewhentheywereateachother’sthroats.TherewasnowayIcouldgoaftersomeonewithasword.ButI thoughtofJayhackingandslashinghiswaythroughhisvideogames.Hewouldn’t showfear.But Jaydidn’thavea sword toprotecthimself,andIdid.Iowedittohimtouseit.

As the others finished packing, Delane hurried over with a beltedscabbard. “Leftor right?”heasked, and thenwhen itwasobvious that Ihadnocluewhathewastalkingabout:“Doyouuseyourlefthandoryourrighthand?”

“Oh,”Isaid.“Right.”Helaughedashestrappedthebeltacrossmyhips.“Don’tpanic.You

probablywon’thavetouseit.”Hetightenedthebeltalmostdowntothelastloop,thensteppedback

to take a look at his work. “Perfect fit.” He winked. “Well, almost. It’sluckyyou’requitetall.Tryit.”

I’dneverpredictedthatonedayI’dbeslidingaswordintoascabbard.Butmyreachwaslongandtheswordfit,almostasifitwasmeanttobe.

“Nowdraw,”saidDelane.Hemimeddrawingthesword.Imimickedhim,myswordslippingswiftlyfromitssheath.“Great technique,” saidDelane, as I slid itback inside. “We’llmake a

warriorofyouyet.”ThatIhighlydoubted.Thepackingcomplete,Soljoinedusatthedoor.Hepeeredoutside.“Keeptothebackstreets,”saidCrowley,ashehandedDelanehispack.

“They’reboundtocomehere.We’llstallthemforaslongaswecan.”Asweleftthehouse,Itookafinal lookatCrowleyandRip,standing

therelikefriendsI’dknownmywholelife.

“Remember,Mia,”saidCrowley.“Trustthem.”Withthat,thedoorclosedandIwasalonewithSolandDelane.Chasedbythebell,wesprintedthroughBordertown’sdesertedalleys.

Mypackbashedagainstmyback.Theskirtwrappedaroundthescabbardwith every step. Several minutes later, the gap between the houseswidened,diminishingthenumberofplacestohide.Soonwecrossedopenland, peppered with the kind of shacks I’d first seen on entering town.Gnarled trees sprouted between the huts then thickened into a grove.Vineswithscarletleavessmotheredthetrunkslikeblood-filledivysuckingthelifefromtheboughs.Overgrown,theytrailedfrombranchtobranch,avast redweb that shimmied in thebreezeandcastdeepshadowsontotheground.

At a run,we ducked beneath the trailing leaves and headed into thegrove.

“Stillnosign,”saidDelane.“They’llbecuttingofftheroadsleadingoutof town. There’s no way they’ll think us crazy enough to take on thevalley.”

“Whatisthisvalley?”Iaskedbeneathmybreath.“It’s been deserted for years,” replied Delane, with his usual cheery

tone.“Besttojustleaveitatthat.”Solslowed,peeringbetweenthelow-hangingvines.“Iseethehorses.”“Sentinels?”askedDelane.“None,”hesaid.“Itdoesn’tfeelright.”Ipeekedthroughthescarletfoliageintotheclearingahead.Onitstood

acircularhouse,abouttenfeet inheightandconstructedfrompalebluestone.Twohorsesinfulltackweretetheredtoapostintheyard,nibblingatthesun-scorchedgrass.Nooneelsewasinsight.

“Onlytwo?”Iwhispered.“Youcan ridewithme,” saidDelane.He leaned in tomyear. “Don’t

willinglygetonahorsewithSolandun.Herideslikeamaniac.”I laughed. Just a little. No matter how bad things became, nothing

seemedtogettoDelane.Iwonderedwhatother informationIcouldgetfromhimaboutSol.

Simplygratefulourescapedidn’tdependonmeridingalone,Isteppedintotheclearing,followingSoltothehorseswhileDelanekeptwatchattherear.

“Untiehim,”saidSol,gesturingtooneofthetwo.

It was a huge animal, brown to the point of black. A single strip ofwhiterandownitsface.ItstampedwhenIapproached.

“Heknowsyou’rescared,”saidSol,withasmile.“That’sgood,isn’tit?”“Notifyouwanthimtolistenyou.”Iinchedcloserandtriedtowoothebeastwithcharm.“Heythere,boy.”

Ipattedhisside.Itdidn’tworkanybetterthanitdidtocoaxRusty.ThehorsesniffedmyforeheadasIwentforitsreins.Somethingcoldandwetcameawayonmyskin.

Sol had already mounted. He held my reins as Delane joined us,mountingourrideaseasilyasSolhadhis.Delaneofferedmehishand.

“Justholdtight.”“That’stheplan.”I hoistedmy ridiculous skirt abovemy knees, and then scrambledup

withDelane’s help.Almost six feet off the ground, I grabbed hiswaist.“Okay,”Isaid,feelingsecure.Well,kindof.

I peeked out from behind Delane’s back and caught the glimmer ofSol’sswordasheraisedtheblade.JustlikethenightbeforeontheRidge,heleanedforwardandsniffedtheair.“They’rehere,”hemurmured.“Backup.”

Thehorsemovedbeneathus,butmygazeremainedonthetrees.IheldDelanetighter,anticipatingvisagedemonscreeping into theclearingandagain confrontingmewith Jay’s face. I instinctively loweredmyhand tomy sword, though I knew I couldn’t use it. I couldn’t strike at anythingthatboreJay’sface.

“What’soutthere?”Iwhispered.“Sentinels,”saidSol.Stillleaningforward,heturnedaneartowardthe

grove.Thesunshone intheclearing,castinggoldenbrownlightthroughhishair.Hiseyesnarrowed.“They’retryingtosurroundus.”

“Idon’tseeanything.”Aripplecarriedthroughthevines likeawhispertravelingleafto leaf.

Thefirstsentinelappeared.Itwastall,atleastsevenfeet,andasbaldasavisagedemonexceptforatailofcoarseblackhairthatsproutedfromthetopofitshead.Itsempty,glassyeyeswereroundandwidelyspacedlikeashark’s. A black, sleeveless tunic covered its gargantuan chest. Musclesbulged in its arms, and thick blue veins, aswide asmy finger, pulsatedbeneathitsskin.Belowthetunic,bare legsdisplayedmassivelyoversized

quads and gigantic feet, both hugely out of proportion to the rest of itsalreadyimpressiveframe.

Theyappearedoneaftertheother,eachidenticaltothefirst,encirclingus,moving as aunit to cutoff our escape.Twenty.Thirty. I lost count.They watched us. Waiting for what, I didn’t know. Anticipation rose.Weremoreontheway?Wewerealreadyhideouslyoutnumbered,butwehadhorses.

“Timetogo,”saidDelane.“Solandun?”I caught Sol’s nod, clutchedDelane tighter, andprayed the poor guy

couldstillbreathethroughmygrip.Himturningbluewastheonlythingthatwouldmakemeletgo.

Thefrontsentinelraisedagnarledarm.Itsmouthopened:“Ni’ah.”Thatoneword,whateveritwas,shatteredthemoment.Sol, then Delane, rounded the horses, and charged for the woods

behindus.Iduckedtosnatchabreathagainsttherushingwind.Iknewwithinsecondswhythesentinelshadn’tcomewithhorses.They

didn’tneedthem.Theysprintedafterus,theirhumongousstepspoweredby theirmassive thighs. Thunder sounded at their charge. Screams, likewarrior’s cries, echoed. I’d never seen anything on two legs run so fast.Within seconds, they’d flanked us. They bounded over shrubs, bowledthroughsaplingslikeagiantherdescapingapredator.

Only,theywerethepredatorsandweweretheprey.I clung toDelane, certain I felt a sentinel’sbreathon thebackofmy

neck, but too terrified to look. Delane sat low across the horse’s neck,ridinginstridewithSolatourside.Neithercheckedback.

Weweren’tgoingtomakeit.Severalofthesentinelsonourflankdrewcloser.Thoseintheleadveeredtowardourpath.Solpressedon,aheadbyseveralstrides.Hecaughttheturninthesentinels’directionassixorsevenboundedaheadtoourleft.Secondsmoreandthey’dcutoffourescape.

Solsteeredhishorsetotheright.Delanefollowed.Thewoodland thickened.Low-hanging branches threatened to topple

us.Buttheremusthavebeenaroutethroughtheundergrowth;neverdidSol’sspeedwaver.AdarktunneloftreesappearedaheadandDelane’scry,carriedbythewind,rushedbymyears.

“Holdtight!”The sentinels’ thundering strides drew closer on both sides. A strong

currentofbeastlyodorsthickened.Sixfeetwasallthatseparatedusfrom

thebeastssprintingatourside.“They’retooclose,”Iyelled.“Justhangon!”Five feet. Four feet. I was within reach of the sentinel at my side.

Blackenedfingernails—claws—grazedmyarm.“Delane!”Thehorse,asifsensingmyterror,lowereditsheadandchargedagain.

Thesentinelfellback.I risked a glance overmy shoulder. The pack had formed awide arc

behindus.Maintaining theirpace, theypressed forward, forcingus fromthepathSolhad found through thewoods.Though theymovedasone,never did they shout an order or command. Itwas as if instinct guidedthem.

“They’re cutting us off from the valley,” yelled Delane. “Solandun,they’repushingusnorth!”

Obviously, Sol had noticed it too. “They’re herding us,” he shoutedback.“Justkeepmoving.”

Herdingusawayfromthevalley?“Whyaretheydoingthat?”Icried.“They’retryingtocornerus,”saidDelane.ButIdidn’tseeanyplacewheretheycouldtrapus,onlythesentinels

andthetrees.Onwewent.Amile.Two.Thesentinelsdrewnocloser.Thetreesbegantothin.Rocksappearedunderfoot.Daylightbeckoned.

I focused on what lay ahead, conscious that with one mistake, onestumble,they’dbeonus.Theywerepushingussomewhere,andwehadnochoicebuttooblige.

The trees were now sparse. No leaves covered their branches. Theirbarkwasgray,asifithadwithstoodawildfire,thoughthegroundwasnotcharredandthelengtheninggrassshowednosignofdamage.Afinelayerofsilveryashblewfromthetreesandwascarriedawaybythewind.

Ahead, Sol’s horsewhinnied, then stopped.Confused, I realized thatDelanehadslowedtoo.WepulledupatSol’sside.Bothhorsesturnedtofacethesentinels.

The creatures stood behind us in a line, blocking the route toBordertown with an impenetrable wall of bodies. Beyond them lay thewoods,thecanopyathick,deepgreen.Beforeuslaythedesiccatedtreeswiththeirjagged,leaflessbranches.Itwasasifsomeonehaddrawnalineacrosstheground.Ononeside,wherethesentinelswaited,was life.On

theotherside,ourside,wasdeath.“Wecouldfight,”whisperedDelane.IcaughtSolwatchingme,andasifthathadsealedthedeal,heshook

hishead.“There’stoomany,”hereplied.“We’vebarelyenoughdecimatorstogetthroughthevalley.”

“Thenit’syourdecision,”saidDelane.“They’vegotuswheretheywantus.Theydon’tthinkwe’llgoon.”

I glanced over my shoulder to where gently rising grasslands spreadawayfromtheforest.Itwastheperfectplacetogainsomespeedandputthe sentinels behind us, or for the sentinels to charge us down. But nosentinelmoved.

IlookedatSol.Hisheadwashigh,hisbacktallandstraight.Therewasno fear in his eyes. Old Man Crowley’s words returned to me: TrustSolandun.TrustDelane.Theyknowwhatthey’redoing.

I couldn’t take my eyes off Sol. Never once looking away from thesentinels,heleanedintohishorse’sear.Ididn’tcatchwhathesaid,butitmusthavedonethejobforthehorsetookseveralfalteringstepsback.

“Delane,”hesaid,hisvoicelow.Wetooretreated.Feet stomped in the sentinels’ line. Teeth bared. Black eyes stared.

Towardthecenterof thepack,oneof thesentinels tooka forwardstep.Theonebesideitshotoutanarmtoblockitspath.Thencameabark,asound I recognized fromwhenwe’d tumbled through theBarrieron theRidge.

“TheWastes,”itsnarled.“Leavethem.They’reasgoodasdead.”

THIRTEEN

I’vechangedmymind,”saidDelane.“Thiswasabadidea.”

Abouttenminuteshadpassedsincethesentinelshadabandonedtheirpursuit.The last time I’d looked, thewoodshadbeenvisiblebehindus,thesentinelsashrinkinglineofpaleflesh.Clearly,theyweren’tabouttogiveuptheirpost,leavingusnochoicebuttopresson.Notthatweweremakingmuch progress. For every step the horses took, we had to coaxthemintotakingonemore.

Thelandscapechangedlittle.Knee-highprairiegrass,endlessclearsky,andtheoccasionalbarrentreewasallIcouldseeofthegentlyslopinghillthatweclimbed.

Sol’shorsebucked.“It’snogood,”hesaid,anddismounted.“We’llhavetoleadthem.Theymightbebetteriftheyhavesomethingtofollow.”

“What’swrongwiththem?”Iasked.Delanetwistedinthesaddletofaceme,andforthefirsttimesinceI’d

methim,his expression turned completely serious. “No animalwillinglysetsfootintheWastes.”

Yetherewewere.Whereverherewas.I swung my leg over the horse’s rear end, preparing for an elegant

dismount. It didn’t quite work out.My foot caught in the folds of myskirt,andIslidsideways,almosttakingDelanewithme.

Solmusthavenoticedmefalling.“Careful,”hecried.He dashed over and grabbed me tightly around the waist. My back

againsthischest,heliftedmedown.ThoughIwassafelyonsolidground,Soldidnotletgo.Iturnedinhis

arms, hugely aware that hewas still holdingme. “I slipped,” Imuttered

sheepishly.AflickerofamusemententeredSol’seyes.Undoubtedly,he’dpictured

melandingonmybuttwithmyskirtaroundmyshoulders.Buttherewassoftnessinhisexpressiontoo,likewhenhe’djokedaboutthebusoutsideschool.Itwasawelcomechangefromhisusualserioussilences.

“Youhavetotakecareofyourself,”hesaid.“Landbadlyonyourankleandthiswillbeareallylongtrip.”

Delane jumped down beside us and Sol let go ofme, as if he’d justrealized thathewas stillholdingmywaist.Heheaded forhishorse andgatheredthereins.“It’stimetomove,”hesaid,backtobusiness.

Iwasabout to followwhena squeakcamefromsomewherecloseby.Surprisedbythesound,IpeeredbehindmetothespotwhereIthoughtithadoriginated.Ialmosthurled.

Itmighthavebeenarabbit—once.Thatis,arabbitthathadspentafairbitoftimeinapitbull’smouth.Alittlefurremainedononeofitshindlegs,butotherthanthat itwas justamessof fleshandbone.But itwasalive. Somehow. It lay, twitching on its side, its bloodied front pawsoccasionallytappingtheground.Istumbledback.

“Whatthehellisthat?”Igasped,andshotoutahandtograbDelane.Delane peered into the grass. “It must have wandered in and gotten

lost,”hesaid.Hewrinkledhisnose.“Lookslikeit’sbeenhereawhile.”“Something’sbeenat it,”Isaid.Itspawstwitched.“Weneedtoputit

outofitsmisery.”My cries brought Sol back with his horse. He took one look at the

rabbit and then turned his head in disgust. “It can’t be killed,” he said.“Nothere.”

I frowned. Uneasy, I scanned the prairie, noticing the stillness, thesilence.

“TheWastes,”Iwhispered.“The Wastes are the places in our world that the Barrier has

abandoned,” said Sol. “It is reality shattered. No life. No death.” Heglancedat therabbit,hisexpressionofdisgustgone.He lookedsad. “It’sbeingabsorbedbytheBarrier.”

Mystomachlurchedagain,mymouthdry.“Theydidthisonpurpose,”Isaid,panicrising insideofme.“Thesentinels.Theyknewthey’dtrapus.Thatwe’dgiveourselvesupratherthancomehere.”

“ItistheWastes,”saidDelane.“Getstuckinherefortoolongandthe

Barrierwillbegintoabsorbyoutoo.”Istraightened,imaginingthethreeofuscollapsedonthegrass,ourflesh

melting,toofargonetoeverescapetheWastes.Already,we’dstoodheretoolong!

“Thenwehave tomove,” I gasped. I immediatelyheadedup thehill,pickingup thepacewitheach step, chasedby something intangible, yetfarmoredangerous thanDuddonMaloneor the sentinels at the forest’sedge.

Sol called me back. “Mia, wait! There’s something else you shouldknow.”

Freaked, I glanced back over my shoulder. “Sol, I think we knowenough!”Icried.“Ordoyouwanttoenduplikethat?”

The landflattenedas Iapproachedthefinal rise. I stopped.Aquartermileinfrontofmewasasecondhill,tallerthantheoneonwhichIstood,andwider,too,itsplateaushapedliketheoutlineofamandozingbeneaththesky.Iwouldhaverecognizeditanywhere.I’dseenitfromtheRidgeahundredtimes.TherewasnomistakingtheSleeperHillGiant.

Tothesideof thegiant layadense, jumbledmessofbuildings.Somewereinsharpfocus,liketheunmistakablewhitewoodencupolaabovetheOnalyFreeChurch.AhazynothingnesscoveredotherpartsofthetownasifIsawitthroughcondensationontheinsideofawindow.

ThoughIsawnocars,muffledsoundsoftrafficcamefromadistance.Everysooften,thesoundswouldstopabruptlyandsilencewouldfall.

Sol, Delane, and the restless horses came to my side. “It’s OnalyCrossing,”Isaid,breathless.“Sol,it’sOnaly.”

Aflashoflightspedpastthefrontofthechurch.Abluecarburstintofocusandthenvanishedasquicklyasithadappeared.

“Itriedtowarnyou,”saidSol,regretclearinhistone.SolhadtriedtopreparemeforwhatIwasabouttosee,andonceagain,

I’dignoredhim,chargingoffonmyownasifIknewbetter,whenclearlyIknewnothingatall.

“ThisiswhathappenswhentheBarrierencountersoneofyourtowns,”he said. “TheBarrier embracesnature.Life.Where it finds those things,bothourworldsexistundisturbed,onewithin theother.But theBarrierwascreatedthousandsofyearsbeforeallofthis.”HegesturedtoOnaly.“Itdidn’tknowwhatwascoming.”

It was overwhelming. Sol’s shrinking world lay bare before me. The

shading overOnaly andCrownsville on themap atOldManCrowley’sfinallymadesense.

“TheBarriercanabsorbsomethingsonyourside,”saidDelane,withashrug. “The occasional road, a farm. But your towns and cities are toodense. They’re too packedwithmaterials it doesn’t understand. It losesitself,unabletounderstandwhatexistsontheOtherSide.Landswehaveoncesharedhavebecomeyours.”

Itwasmonstrous, grotesque, unfair.Below, another car appeared andthenvanished.Twohouses stood fused together,oneaBrakalandhouse,judgingbyitsstonewalls.Twoworldscolliding.

“Wewon’tmakeitout,willwe?”Iasked.“That’swhythesentinelsletusgo.”

“We’llmakeit,”saidSol.“Wehavenochoicebuttopassthroughthetown. North takes us too far from our trail. South, and the land turnscraggy and steep as it approaches the valley.We’d never get the horsesthrough. The quickestway is to forge straight on. In less than an hour,we’llputtheWastesbehindusandreachtheShorlanPass.Fromtherewecanenterthevalley.”

Bookendedbythetwoguys,Ilookedfromonetotheother.Sol,strongandrestrainedononeside,Delane,energeticandoptimisticontheother.Itwastimetotrustthem.

“Thenlet’sdoit,”Isaid.Maybe my resolve had surprised him, but when I looked at Sol to

confirmthatweshouldmove,Icaughthimwatchingmewithadmiration.HepulledbackthelookasifrealizingthatI’dnoticed.HisgazeturnedtoOnaly.“Westopfornothing,”hesaid.“Everyminutewespendhere,theBarrieristryingtoabsorbus.”

Iglancedbackdownthehilltowardtherabbit.“Andwhatabouthim?”“It’snot trulyalive,Mia,” saidSol, softly. “It’sprobablybeenhere for

months,evenyears.I’msureitreachedthepointofoblivionalongtimeago.”

ThewalkintoOnalywasthestrangestofmylife.Thecloserwecametothetown,themoreIcaughtrealityturnedonitshead.RemainsoftheBrakaland homes that had once stood there appeared more frequently.Fewwere intact.Awoodenwallwith awindow at its center bisected apicketfenceinthegardenofoneoftheOnalyhomes.Asidewalkhadhalfswallowedawoodendoor,likeatoothstickingoutofconcretegums.

Voicesandtrafficnoiseburstfromtheair.Aninvisiblecardoorbanged.Footsteps followed, then fadedaway,a snippetofaghostlyhalf-life thatexistedunseen.OntheothersideoftheBarrier,itwasjustanormaldayinOnaly.

“Howdoyoufeel?”askedDelane.My skin tingled. My ears buzzed. “Weird,” I replied. “I know these

places.”Aswe passed through downtown, I touched thewall ofHarper’s Ice

Cream Parlor. I always got my favorite combo there—black raspberry,chocolatechip,Frenchvanilla.Twodoorsdown,apalepinkfogcoveredRainyDays,thejunkshopwhereWillieandIhadboughtgaggiftsforthevolleyballteamlastyear.

Aboutfifteenminuteslater,wewereatthejunctionofMainStreetandThird.Acoupleofblocksandwe’dpassthechurchandOnalywouldbealmostbehindus.

“It’snotfarnow,”Isaid.Finally, the buildings receded and the road disappeared beneath a

blanketofgrass.Once clear of town, I took a final lookback.Onaly layunder ahazy

mist.“There’snothingthatcanbedone,”saidSol,witharuefulshakeofthe

head.“Youshouldputitfromyourmind.”ButhowcouldIwhenalloverthisworldashort-circuitedBarrierwas

strugglingtomaintainitshold?Backonthehorses,wepressedonacrosstheprairie.Soonacoolbreeze

touched my face. Reality returning. Forested peaks waited ahead, thelandscapeturningfromgrasslandtorock.Patchesofredmistappearedinpools.

“It comes from the valley,” saidDelane, gesturing to the fog. “We’reclosetotheShorlanPass.”

RidingbehindDelane’sbroadback,itwasdifficultformetomakeoutthepassuntilwewerealmostonit.Pineandsprucegrewbesidearockypath. Little more than a few feet wide, it descended steeply into darkforestbelow.Twolife-sizemalefigures,carvedfromwood,guardedeithersideofthetrail.Onefacedintowardthevalley,theotherouttowardtheprairie.Theredmistcoveredtheirfeet.

“Freemen,”saidDelane.“Heretowelcomeustothevalley.”

Itwasn’tmuchof awelcome.There reallywasn’t anythinghere.Themistthickenedassoonasweenteredtheforest.Littlesunlightpenetratedthecanopyabove.

I ached all over, but at least another hour passed before Sol slowed.We’dstillnotclearedthewoods.

Delanedrewupalongside.“Doyousmellsomething?”heasked.Solhelda redcrystal inhispalm, theone fromRip’shearth thathad

glowed when the visage demon had appeared the night before. Lightradiated from it. “Something’s tracking us,” he said. “That didn’t takelong.”

Myheartsank.Ididn’tknowhowmuchmoreofthisIcouldtake.Ifeltignorantanduseless,castofffromthethingsIknew.ItwasSaturday.Iwassupposed to have an extra shift at Mickey’s. Rifkin’s debate waitedunfinishedonmydesk.Only, that lifeno longer felt real.TherewasnoWillie,noKieranorSethhere.ThatwasalljustagameI’donceplayed.

Movement came from trees to my right. It was so rapid that I wasbarelyevensurethatIsawit.IheldontighttoDelane.

Again.Totheleft.Somethingwasoutthere,andnotthesentinelswiththeirthunderingsteps.Whateveritwasmovedevenfaster.Onemomentthere,thenext,gone.

Thehorsesstirred.Ourstookabackwardstep.“Thisisbad,”Iwhispered.A gray face suddenly stared up atme from the side of the horse. Its

headwasnarrow,itsfeaturesstretched,theskinmottledwithblue.Blackeyes,withathousandfaces,watchedme.Askeletalhandreachedforthehorse.Thenitvanished.

Ourhorse rearedbefore I could even scream.Down Iwent. I landedwithabreathtakingthud,thehiltofmyswordhardbeneathmyhip.Soland Delane leapt to the ground. Both raised their swords, standingbetweenmeandthewoods.

“Itwasashadowimp,”saidDelane,gasping.“Itappearedrightbyus.”Sol scanned our surroundings, everymuscle in his body braced. “Did

youseewhereitwent?”Delaneshookhishead.“We’llhavetowaituntilitreappears.”Iscrambledtomyfeet,drewmysword,andthenwedgedmyselffirmly

betweenSolandDelane.“Itwasgross,”Isaid,barelyabletocatchbreathfromthefall.“Allgrayandfunny-looking.”

“They’re blood hunters,” said Sol. “A type of demon. It’s after thehorses.”

I pattedourhorse,whowas freaked. I knew justhow thepoor thingfelt.

“There,”saidDelane,pointingtoourleft.Ina flash, the shadow impappeared less than ten feetaway.Another

flash.Thenanother.Nowtherewere three.Bothhorses rearedandthenboltedintothetrees.Justasfast,theimpsdisappeared.Withoutwordorwarning,Solsprintedafterthem.

“Don’t!”Iyelled.“Sol!”Too late.Thegloomconsumedhiminseconds. Imadeto follow,but

gotonlyacoupleofstepsbeforeDelaneyankedmeback.“Mia,youcan’t.”“They’llkillhim!”I tuggedmy arm free, horror-struck that Sol would do something so

reckless.“Sol!”Iagainmadetofollow.ThistimeDelanegrabbedmyhand.Hedidn’t

letgo.“It’sokay,”hesaid,wrestlingmeback.“Mia!Theycan’ttouchhim!”“But—”Ididn’t finish.Agray facepeeredout frombehinda tree.Deepscars

covereditschinwheretheclutchofblackfangsthathungfromitsmouthhadtorntheskin.Clawedfingersscratchedthebark.

Delanespunmearound.“Back!Mia,getback!”Ifroze.Theshadow imp lunged. Instinctkicked in. Iblindly thrustmysword

andprayedforahit.The shadow imp leapedclearof the stroke. Its armswhipped theair,

strikingDelane across the side of his head, liftinghim clear off his feet.Delanecrashedtotheground.Hedidn’tmove.

Bladeout, I forcedmyself tohold thedemon’sgaze.But thecreaturewasn’tintimidated.Itwantedonething:Delane’sblood.

“Don’t even think about it,” I yelled, recalling something I’d seen onAnimalPlanetaboutgrizzlyattacksandmakingyourselfbigandmean.Orwasthatliedownandplaydead?Icouldneverremember.Butmyyellwasenoughtoregainthedemon’sattention.

Pop.Itwasgone.Aheartbeatpassed.Theimpreappeared,inchesfrommyface.Breath,likevomit,pouredfromitsmouthasitsfangsaimedfor

myneck.Istartedtoshovethecreatureback,thenrememberedIstillgrippedmy

sword.With a scream, I pulled back the blade, the fangs almost atmythroat,andthrustwithallmystrength.Mystrokegrazeditsside.

The imphissed. It staggeredforward, itsweightcrashing intome.Offbalance,Istumbled.ThehemofmyskirtcaughtbeneathmyheelsandItoppledback.Togetherwe fell, its arms aroundmeas if Iweredancingwithdeath.

Ilandedwithathud.Timeslowed.Theimpwrithedagainstme.Thena yell, a scream. A flash of color like a matador’s cape swept over us.Delane’sblueshirt.Hewasalive!

The imppummeledmychest as it tried toescape.My lungsemptiedbeneaththeblows.

ThenblacknessseizedmeandIwasoutforthecount.

FOURTEEN

ThefirstthingIsawwhenIcametowasablurryfacestaringdowninto

mine. I blinked a coupleof times andDelane’s smile slipped into focus.“Mia?”

Sweatglistenedonhisforehead.Leavesclungtohishair.“You’reokay,”Isaid,inadaze.“Justabump,”Delanereplied.“Canyougetup?”My chest felt bruisedwhere the imphad struckme andmyhip sore

fromwhenI’dfallenfromourhorse,buteverythingseemedtoworkfine.“IthinkI’mokay.Theimp?”

“It got away,” said Delane. “Shadow imps won’t fight when they’recornered.Itdisappearedintotheforestnotlongafteryoucollapsed.Therewasn’tmuchIcoulddotostopit.Yousawhowfasttheyare.”

Imadetorise.“Delane!”Igasped.“Sol!”“Notbackyet.”Hehelpedmetomyfeet.“Buthe’llbefine,Mia.Trust

meonthis.”SeeminglysatisfiedthatIwasn’tabouttocollapse,hereleasedhishold.

Ibrushedthedirtfrommydress,tookacoupleofbreaths,andfeltsomeofthetightnesslesseninmychest.

“It’sthedreambird,isn’tit?”Isaid.Delanepulledbackasifhewasn’tsurewhatImeant.“The Lunestral. On Sol’s back. He told me it protects him from

demons.”“Ididn’trealizeyouknew.”“Sol told me about it in Crownsville,” I replied. “Jay has the same

tattoo.Didn’tworksogoodforhim.”Delanemadeanapologeticshrug.Thegesturesaidmorethanwords,its

meaningclear:Don’tworry.Jaywillbefine.HesqueezedmyhandandinthatmomentIthoughthemightactuallybeoneofthenicestguysI’devermet.

Igrabbedmyswordfromtheground.Therewasnobloodontheblade.“IthoughtIhitit,”Isaid,disappointed.

Delaneshookhishead.“ButfromthepartIsaw,youmadeagoodgoatit.”

Isheathedmysword.“Iprettymuchfellonmyass,didn’tI?”Ilaughed,couldn’thelpit.Soon,Delanelaughedtoo.“Prettymuch,”saidDelane.“Butitwasavalianteffort.”Hegrabbedmeforahugandour laughterechoed.Finally it feltas if

therewassomelifeinthisplace.Itjustneededanexcusetoburstfree.AlittlelikewhenI’dopenedmyeyestoCrownsvilleaftermovingfromDesMoines.Mrs.Shankleswouldhavebeenproud.

Twigs snapped on the edge of the clearing. Delane dropped his armfrommyshoulder.Wespunaround,Delanereachingforhissword,justasSolandthehorsessteppedoutfrombetweenthetrees.

For a guy who’d just chased demons through the forest, Sol didn’tappearbreathless.Infact,Iwasn’tsurehowheseemed.Theslightesttraceof a frown appeared on his face as he looked from me to Delane. HehandedDelanethereinstoourhorse.“Icouldhearyoutwofromamileaway,”hesaid.

Somethinghadbuggedhim,but itwas impossible to tellwhat itwas.We’d got the horses back, we were in one piece, what more could hewant?AsecondagoDelaneandIhadbeenlaughingandhugging,nowIfelt like it had been wrong to celebrate the fact that we were alive. Iwantedtoaskhimwhatwaswrong,butasalwayswithSol,Idoubtedhe’dtellmeifhedidn’twanttoconfess.I’dnevermetaguysodifficulttoread.

“You’reokay,”Imuttered,instead.“Whatwereyouthinking?”“Thatwithoutthehorseswe’dbeluckytomakeitanotherhour.Those

thingsarestilloutthere.Youneedtostayquiet.”Okay,Ireallydidn’twantanythingtohappentohim.Icertainlydidn’t

want my guts to plummet like they had when he’d sprinted after thehorses.But...comeon.

“Doesheeverlightenup?”IwhisperedtoDelane.Delaneconsideredthequestionforsometime.“Notsomuch.Buthe’s

right.We shouldmove on beforewe run intomore imps. They alwaysgatherinthevalley.”

Wecontinuedourtrekthroughtheneverendingwoodland,downtheneverendingslopetothevalleyfloor,theredmistouronlycompany.My

hipthrobbed.Mybuttached.EvenDelane’sspiritsseemedtohavesunk.“Themist,” I said, afterwhat felt likehours of silence. “It givesme a

headache.”“Itdoesthat,”saidSol.Whatevermoodhadgrippedhimearlierseemed

tohavelefthim.He’dslowedalittleoverthelastfewmiles.Nowherodeatourside.

“Wheredoesitcomefrom?”“It’s residue from all the darkmagic conjured here during the Great

War.It’strappedinthevalley.Itcouldtakeyearstofade.”Heshiftedinhissaddle.“Iwonderifthevalleycanevergobacktowhatitwas.”

“Whatwasitlike?”Iasked.“ItwasonceoneofthemostbeautifulplacesinBrakaland,”repliedSol.

Icaughthissigh.“Themistbuildsduringtheday.Itshouldclearalittlebymorning.”

The sunlight had faded by the time we stopped to rest, and I wasdesperate for the break. I made my announcement as soon as my feettouchedtheground:“I’vegottogo.”

“Gowhere?”askedDelane.“Girls’business,”Ireplied.“I’llbeoverthere.”Ipointedoffto...well,

towherethereweremoretreesandmist.Iunbuckledmysword,gladtogetridofit—masterwielderthatInowwas.IhandedittoDelane.“Andifyoudon’tmind,pleaseturnyourbacks.”

Solsmiled,butforsomereason,Delanestillappearedmystified.Maybewhicheverof the thousand raceshecame fromdidn’t, asa rule,have topee.

Though I didn’t go far from the temporary camp, I couldn’t see theguysasImademywaybacktothehorses.

“Hello?”Iclearedmythroatandtriednottothinkofshadowimpspoppingfrom

outofthinair.“Guys?”SolandDelanecouldn’thavegonefarorhaveexpectedtobeawayfor

long,becausetheirpackslayontheground.Increasinglynervous,Istrokedoneofthehorses,mostlyforthecomfortoftouchingalivingthing.ThatwaswhenIheardtheirvoices.

I sayvoices,but itwaswhispers, thekindofwhisperyoumakewhenyou’retryingreallyhardtokeepyourvoicefromrising.Islippedbetween

thehorsestogetcloser.“Solandun,wecan’ttakeherthere.Whatarewesupposedtotellher?”“We don’t tell her anything. We sleep there and then leave in the

morning.It’sthesafestplacetocamp.”“Itwouldn’tfeelright.”“I understand, Delane, but getting her out of the valley is most

important.Orionisonlyafewhoursfromthehouse.We’retrustingluckifwestayoutintheopentonight.”

Icrepttowardthevoices.“Thenlet’schooseanotherhouse,”insistedDelane.“Whoknowshowfarwe’llhavetogoto findonethat’s standing.We

can’triskthevillagesafterdark;there’stoomanydemonslurkingaroundforthemtobesafe.Weknowthehousecanbesecured—likelasttime.”

“Thisisn’tlikelasttime.Thisispilingliesontopoflies.”“It’snotalie,”saidSol.AfewmorestepsandIcaughtsightofSol’sback.“It’s pointless throwing all this at her,” he said. “It won’t change

anything,Delane.Shehastogoback.”“Butit’snotuptoustomakethosedecisionsforher.”GoodmannersdictatedthatIshouldhavestayedhiddenorturnedback

forthehorsesandwaitedforthemtoreturnasifnothinghadhappened.I’dhadenoughofgoodmanners.

“Whatdecision?”Iasked,andsteppedoutfromthetrees.Sol spunaround.Delanecringedand then looked to theground. “I’m

goingtocheckthehorses,”hesaid.HepattedSol’sshoulderashewalkedoff. It was a typical guy-avoiding-bad-news move. Some things neverchanged,nomatterwhatworldyoulivedin.

SolandIstoodinsilence.Heseemedreadytospeakafewtimesonlytochangehismindandclamup.

“Well?”Iasked.Helookedtrulyuncomfortable.“Mia,I—”“Yeah, yeah,” I replied,mypatiencewith thewhole cloak-and-dagger

routinewearingthin.“Youweretalkingaboutsomethingtodowithme,someplacewehavetogo.”

TheredmistsnakedaboutSol’sfeet,addingtohisairofmystery.“There’s a place we can stay in the valley,” he said. In the forest’s

gloomylight,thegoldenstreakshadfadedfromhishair.Nowitappeared

darkagainstthegrayofhisshirt.“Wecangettherebeforenightfall.ThatputsusclosetoOrionforthemorning.”

Unconvincedbyhis tale, I shookmyhead. “Sowhatabout ‘Wedon’ttellheranything.Wejustsleepthereandthenleaveinthemorning.’Orareyoujustgoingtokeepyoursecrets?”

He studiedme,hard. “Does it reallymatter toyou?”he finally asked.“Eventhoughitwon’tchangeathing?”

“Sol,itmatters,”Ireplied.“ImaynotknowmuchaboutBrakaland,butI’mnotanidiot.Iknowsomethingmore’sgoingon.Ithastodowithmyparents,doesn’tit?”

Hedidn’treply.“Comeon,Sol,”Iurged.“Ineedtoknow.”“All right,” he said, struggling to holdmy gaze.He straightened. “It’s

aboutyourfather.”I’dbeenexpecting that,or something like it,but still thosewordshit

likeablowtothesideofthehead.“Youknowwhoheis,”Iwhispered.“Yes.”“He’snottheSuzerain,ishe?”Iasked,andlaughed.Thesoundwasas

hollowasmyjoke.“No.”Solwasserious.“At least that’s a relief.” Iwandered to a large rock and sat, trying to

remaincalm.CalmandreasonablehadgotmeinformationfromSolinthepast. He really wasn’t a guy for histrionics. “I already guessed that myparents knew this place.” I said. “How else could I have come by thenecklace?I’mguessingtheywereRunners.”

Solsatonthegroundinfrontofme,hispostureopen.Assoonashisexpression softened, Iwondered ifmaybewewereactuallymore similarthanI’dthought.Ididn’tknowSol’sstory,butbothofushadbuiltwallsaroundourselves.Icouldfeelminecrumbling.

“Mia,youhaveagreat life inCrownsville,”he said,hisvoice softanddeep,hiseyestakinginevery inchofmyface.“Youdon’thavetoworryaboutanyofthis.Youhaveyourfriends,school,afuturewhereyoucanbeanythingyouwant.”

I saw sincerity in those gorgeous eyes.Hewas trying to protectme?Thatwasthereasonforhissilence?ButasmuchasIwas learningaboutSol,therewasjustasmuchhestilldidn’tknowaboutme.

“Ijustwanttobewhole,”Isaid.“Iwantthetruth.”

“Allright.”Hetookadeepbreath.“Mia,yourfatherisfromBrakaland.Andsoareyou.Youwerebornhere.Attheplacewherewehopetocamptonight.”

FIFTEEN

I’d said that I wanted the truth, but sitting with Sol in that clearing, I

wasn’tsureIwasreadytohearit.Before,DadwasanythingIwantedhimto be. Imagining him as a total loser usuallymademe feel better aboutbeingabandoned.Nowhewasclose,ifonlyinthought,andhecamefromaworldthatadayagoIhadn’tevenknownexisted.

“NowonderDelanefreakedout,”Isaid.“Hewasn’thappygoingbehindyourbacklikethat,”saidSol.“Butyouwere?”“Ifitkeepsyousafe,thenyes.”AweekagoIwouldhavelaughedinSol’sfaceifhe’dtoldmethis.But

toomanythingshadhappenedformenottobelievehiswords.“So I’m a Brakalander like you,” I said, simply. “Where do I get my

passport?”“Youalreadyusedit,”saidSol.“AndPops?Ishealive?”Solnodded.“Overhere?”Again.“NotaRunner?”“No.”SoI’dguessedthatpartwrong.Howmuchmorewas there formeto

learn?“Thenwhoishe?”Iasked.“HisnameisBromastaRheinhold,”saidSol.“Andhe’sagreatman.”I laughed—snorted,really.“Yeah,” Isaid.“Greatatdumpinghiskids.”

Myvoicehadturnedshakyandthatwasn’tagoodsign.Itusuallysignaleda meltdown. “Wow. So my name isn’t Mia Stone and I’m actually anillegalalien.It’salottotakein.”

Solshookhishead.“Thosethingsdon’tdefinewhoyouare,Mia.”“Yousureaboutthat?”Iasked,unconvinced.I couldn’thelpbut thinkof all the times I’d lookedatother families,

like the Burketts or the Bakers, and wished for what they had. EventhoughI’dknownitwasstupid.EventhoughI’dsworntomyselfthatlifewas what youmade it, that everyone had problems, and that everyonewanted at least one thing they couldn’t have.Thatwaswhat I’d had tobelieve,becauseofmydad.Asmuchas I’dwantedmyfamilytobe liketheBurketts,wallowing inmiseryaboutthefact that itwasn’t,wouldn’tchangethefutureorthepast.

AndJay?Jayjustgotonwiththings.Hewastougherthanme,alwayshadbeen.Iwasjustbetteratputtingonafront.I’dhadsevenmoreyears’practice.Nowmydadwasreal,andIdidn’tknowhowIfeltaboutthat.

WhereverI’dcomefromandwhateverthatmeant,therewasonethingI did understand: None of this was Sol’s fault. Shooting the messengerwouldn’tchangethemessage.

“Soyoureallyknowwhoheis?”Isaid.“Yes.”“ThenyoumusthaveknownwhoIwastoo.Thiswholetime.”Itwasa

logicalargument.“IknewbeforeIevenwenttoCrownsville,”saidSol,holdingmygaze,

“butIdidn’tknowitwasyou.Iknewyouwereattheschool.Whenyoustopped me and asked about the dream bird, that’s when I put ittogether.”

“AndJay?”“Iknewyouhadabrother.”Calmandreasonfaded.Ifelthotand,Iadmit,alittleoverwhelmed.All

thistimeandSolhadknownanswerstoquestionsI’dbeenaskingallmylife.

“Sowhereishe?”Iasked.“ThisgreatBromastaRheinhold.”“He’s fighting in theWest,” said Sol. “Your father’s a legend,Mia, a

closefriendoftheking.He—”I stoppedhimwitha raisedhand. “King?Youhaveaking?My father

knowsaking?”

Sol brushed dust fromhis leg, again uncomfortable. “There aremanykingsinthisworld,”hesaid.“Butit’snotwhatyouthink.Thekingisanelected official. Our king, my king, holds theWest, but it’s a constantbattleagainsttheSuzerain.”

“Sowheredoesmyfatherfitinallofthis?”“Your fatherwasawarrior in thegreatwaragainstElias,”Sol replied.

“ThiswasbeforeEliasbecametheSuzerain.Whenhewasdefeated,alawwaspassedthatbannedmagicinBrakaland.ItwascalledthePurge.Itwasargued that without magic, what had happened in the war couldn’thappenagain. Itwas thebiggestmistakeweevermade.Manymagiciansfledtoyourworld,fearfulofpersecutionorarrest,andtookwiththemthetoolstheyusedintheirskills.OtherssoughtrefugewithEliasandjoinedhim in hiding. So when Elias resurfaced, he had all the power and wecouldnolongerbeathim.

“From the start, your father didn’t agreewith the Purge.He left theWestinprotest,traveledhere,andbecameaFreemanofWelkin’sValley.”

SomyfatherwasknownthroughoutBrakaland,yetnotknownbyhisownchildren?Iwonderedwhathe’ddonetoearnsuch legendarystatus,what was so special about his life here that Jay and I had simply beenunable to compete for his attention. Part ofmewanted to knowmore,anotherpartwantedhim to remain the shadowthathaddumpedme inDesMoines.Aghost.

“So this is Welkin’s Valley?” I asked, determined, however I felt, toprovetoSolthatIcouldhandlethislatestrevelation.

“It’s where we’re sitting and where we’ll camp tonight,” Sol replied.“Welkin’sValley has always been the seat of the Freemen.They’re self-governed, swear no allegiance, and don’t join fights in thewiderworld.When Elias returned, this was one of the first places to fall. This hadalwaysbeenabattleground,becauseitrestsbetweenOrionandtheRidge.Your father fought here in a battle against Elias that brought death tomore than half the Freemen. When it was over, those who survivedheadedwesttojointhefightontheking’sfrontier.”

“Andmyfather’sstillthere?”“He’sstillthere,”confirmedSol.“Thenwhyabandonus?Sol,whynottakeustoo?”“Tosaveyoufromwar,Mia,”saidSol,sadly.“HeknewElias.Heknew

whatwouldfollow.”

“SohedumpedusontheOtherSide.”Iwasstartingtofreakoutagainnowthatitwasallsinkingin.“Andwhataboutmymother?Isshealive?Isshefromhere?Petetoldmeshewasinprison.”

Sol raised his hands, trying to calmme. “I think she’s alive,” he said.“ButI’mnotsure.”

“AndJay’smom?”“Idon’tknow,Mia.”“Butmy fathermust,” I said. “Heneeds to knowwhat’s happened to

Jay!”“Hemayalreadyknow.”“Thenwhyisn’thedoingsomethingaboutit?”Amillionthoughtstumbledthroughmymind.MygrandmotherinDes

Moines.Whohadshereallybeen?Jay’stattoo.Sol’stattoo.PetealoneinCrownsville,whoeverPetewas.Andofcourse,thenecklace.

“MyfatherhadtheSolenetta,”Isaid.“Hehiditwithus.”“Itwassaferoutofthisworldthanin.”“Notanymore,”Ireplied,finallyunderstandingthatIwasinBrakaland

forareason,aswasJay.“TheSuzerainmusthavefoundout.That’swhythedemonskidnappedthoseboys.TheywereafterJay.TheythoughthehadtheSolenetta.Whatwilltheydotohim,Sol?”

“Wedon’tknow,”hereplied.An unsettling feeling gripped me. “Then we have to hurry. The

Suzerainwillknowhedoesn’thaveitbynow.Oranyofthoseboys.Sol,they’llkillthem!”

IclenchedmyhandintoafistandsqueezedashardasIcould,needingthatjoltofpaintobringmebacktowhatwasimportant:findingJayandgetting out of Brakaland. The great Bromasta Rheinhold, the Solenetta,theSuzerain—thisworldcouldkeepthemall.JayandIhadsurvivedthislong without them. I’d be damned if they were going to turn our livesupsidedown.

Except they had already turned our lives upside down. Because ofthem, Jay, a ten-year-old boywho played baseball and computer gamesandgoofedaroundwithStaceyAnnBaker,hadbeensnatched.Aboywhoshouldhavebeenhome,notlostinanotherworld.

“What if they’ve already killed him?” I said, unable to believe I’dutteredthewords.

“Mia,nothinghashappenedinOriontomakeusthinkthatthoseboys

aredead.”Ipaused,seeingSolinanotherlight.“Us?”Iasked.“Whoareyou?Why

areyouinvolvedinthis?”“Mia,we’refightingtheSuzerain.”“Likearesistance?”“In some ways,” he replied. “We’re known as the Sons of theWest.

There are many of us in the towns and cities. We infiltrate Elias’snetworks, but answer to the king. Everything we do is to stall theSuzerain’splans,toprotecttheBarrieruntilheisremovedfromBrakalandforever.”

So Sol was a freedom fighter, an undergroundwarrior.Hope soared.“Thenyoucangetusintowherethey’reholdingJay.”

Hesighed,lookinganywherebutatme.“Idon’tknowifwecan.”“Youhaveto!Sol,don’ttellmethisishopeless.Don’ttellmeallofthis

and then step away. Jay’s all I’ve got!” Suddenly the great BromastaRheinhold,theSolenetta,andtheSuzerainmatteredawholelot.

I’d thought if only I hadn’t broken into Old Man Crowley’s, or if Ihadn’taskedSolaboutthedreambird,orifI’dneversatwithAndyontheRidge and seen Sol’s tattoo, then none of this would have happened. Icould have continued on oblivious, worrying about nothing more thanwhat I’dwear to promwithAndy andwho’dwatch Jaywhen Iwas atwork. But I knew those weren’t the things that had brought me here.“Here”hadcomeformeandJay.IthadcomefortheSolenetta.

ButwhatcouldIdo?MiaStonefromCrownsville.MiaRheinholdfromBrakaland. I didn’t evenknowwho Iwas anymore!Would Imarch intoOrion and demand the bad guy give me back my brother? As soon asMalone’s gangput theSolenetta in theSuzerain’shand, thosekidsweretoast. What use were they once he had the stones he’d searched twoworlds for? Iwascryingbefore IevenknewI’d started.TheyweregreatgulpingsobsamilliontimesworsethanwhenWillieandIcalledinpizzaandwatchedoldweepymovieslikeTitanic.

Concernonhis face, Sol reached forme and I tumbled intohis armsbeforeIcouldstopmyself.HefeltlikeI’dimagined.Hard.Strong.Livingproof that you could hold back the charge of fifty sentinelswith a lookmoredangerousthananyweaponorspell.Ifonlyhecouldshowmehow.

Sol wrapped his arms around me. What else could he do after I’dcollapsed in his lap andwithmyhead buried in his shoulder?Withmy

facepressedagainsthiswarmneck, I tried tobanisheverythingbuthimfrom this one moment. Maybe, for just a second, this didn’t exist. Solcouldgobacktobeingthenewguyatschoolandwecouldbesitting inthewoodsbytheRidge.But Icouldn’tholdthedream.Wewere intoodeepforthat.

“Wedon’thave to stay at thehouse,”he said,not letting go,his griptighterthanever.

Rightthen?Thatwastheleastofmyworries.“No,”Isaid.“Ifyousayit’ssafe,thenthat’swhereweshouldgo.”I pulled away, though I really didn’twant to. For some reason, being

wrapped inSolarms felt like the safestplace tobe.Moppingup tears, Itriedasmile.“I’musuallymorepreparedthanthis.Icarrytissues.”

He laughed and pulled me back to him, his hand stroking my hair.Heaven.“Youdon’talwayshavetobetough,Mia.”

“I’m not tough,” I said. “AskDelane about the shadow imp.Notmyfinestmoment.”

“You’ll get thenextone.”He said it likehebelieved it. “AndwewillfindJay.Ipromiseyou,Mia.”

IrealizedthenhowRiphadfeltwhenSolhadgraspedhisshouldersandtold him that we’d make it through the valley. Because, right then, IbelievedSoltoo.

“AmI interrupting?”Delanepeeredhesitantlyfrombehindoneofthetrees.IuntangledmyselffromSolandtogetherwegottoourfeet.

“Hetoldyou,”saidDelane.“Yep,”Ireplied,andshotahalfsmileatSol.“Hedid.”“Andyou’reokay?”InCrownsville,okaywasarelativeterm.Rusty’scrappedoutagain,but

that’sokay.YougetregularCokewhenyouordereddiet?Okay,too.Butthis?

“I’mfine,”Isaid,thoughreallyIwasn’t.“Can’tyoutell?”Delanesmiled.Heheldouthishand.Theredorbglowedonhispalm.

Justwhatweneeded.“Moredemons?”Iasked.Soldrapedhisarmacrossmyshoulderandledmebacktothehorses.

“WelcometoBrakaland,”hesaid.

*

Whenwereachedthevalleyfloor,Rip,Crowley,andBordertownseemed

adreamwithinadreamIcouldno longerclearly remember.Wechasedthesettingsun,everysteptakingmefartherfromCrownsvillebutclosertounderstandingmypast.Whateverfollowedusstayedwellback.Waitingfordark,nodoubt.

The horses’ heads hung low. Burdened by two, mine in particularlooked ready to drop. Ifwe had anyone to thank for our escape, itwasthoseguys.

A vast and beautiful land surrounded us. Forests grew on the valleyslopes. A fast-flowing river coursed to our right. To the west stood adistant row ofmountains, their caps golden beneath the rapidly sinkingsun.Howtheycouldbethere,whenwewerestillsoclosetoCrownsville,I could not explain. But there theywere.Andwith snowon the peaks,too.

As beautiful andmajestic as the land appeared, it was barren. Therewerenobirds,nosquirrels,orrabbits.Therewasn’tevenagutterscamp.Itwasjustgrass,trees,rock,andtheever-presentmist.

“There were once thriving towns here,” said Sol, as if catching mythoughts. “Narlow.HamleyHold.All desertednow. Fortknee’s the onlyvalleytownwhereyou’llfindpeoplethesedays,butthenFortknee’sclosetothevalley’sedge.It’seasiertostemthetideofdemonsthere.”

“Whatdidthepeopleheredo?”Iasked,thinkingofmyfather,awarriorwithdrawingtothisremotespot.

“Manythings,”saidSol.“Yearsago,theFreemensignedacovenantwiththeking.Anythingtheymade,grew,orfoundherewastheirs.Notaxes.No levies. Itmeanttheywereontheirown.Butthat’sexactlyhowtheywantedit.”

Itriedtopicturetheplacebustlingwithlife.Itwasdifficult.“Howfartothehouse?”

“Not far,” said Sol. He glanced at the golden explosion above themountains.“Weshouldreachitbeforedark.”

Daylight faded todusk,which lingeredonandonas if togiveusonelastchancetoreachsafety.Iwasnervous,bothaboutwhathorrorsmightstillpursueus,andtoseetheplacewhereI’dbeenborn.

Signs that life had once thrived here appeared. Fence posts.Tumbledown cabins. Wagons abandoned on the overgrown, cobbledroadside.Andthenbones,inthegrassandontheroad.Somewerelarge,as if from cattle or horses. Some were so twisted or overgrown that I

couldn’t imaginewhatcreaturesthey’dcomefrom.Andthentherewerethehumanbones.Femurs.Skulls.Leftherelikegarbageonthesideoftheroad.

The golden dusk faded to peach, pink, and then lavender. Distantshrieks—not human, not animal—carried from the forest and higherground.

“Thatdoesn’tsoundgood,”Isaid.Solagreed, if the lookonhis facewasanything togoby.He scanned

theforestedslopes,thenshotmeareassuringsmile.“We’realmostthere.”The road veered left, and a narrow track emerged through the

undergrowth.Weedschokedthebroken-downfences.Thetreesthickenedalong the path. The track again turned, opening onto a huge clearing.Therewas abarn, apaddock, andapond, all of it shrouded in themistfromthemagicconjuredlongago.

Butitwasthehousethatheldmygaze.ItwasbiggerthanI’dexpected,with two floors and a wraparound porch. Its dark wood was slightlybleachedbytheelements.

Stunned,Iheldmybreath.Iknewitwastheplace.Truly,Idid.Orwasmymindjustplayingtricks?Iwantedittobethishouse—apicture-perfectcabinlodgedbetweentheforestandthemountains,hometoaFreemanofWelkin’sValley.

ThiswasthehousewhereI’dbeenborn.

SIXTEEN

CanIgoin?”Iasked.

Sol squeezed my hand. A couple of hours ago I would have doneanythingtohavehimtouchmeagain.NowIwassonumbIcouldhardlyfeelhimthere.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Look around while we get the place ready fortonight.”

Itsoundedsimple,butlikesomanythingsinlife,whenitcamedowntoit,itwasharderthanitlooked.

Solwatchedmyfirsttentativesteps.Aftermymeltdownearlier,Iwasdetermined to appear strong. I dropped my pack on the porch, thenopenedthedoorandsteppedinside.

Ienteredintoakitchenwitharange,woodburning,Iguessed.Didtheyhaveoilorgas?Andatable,likethetablewhereI’dsatwithPeteandJayathousandtimes.Potsonadresser.Dustcoveredeverysurface,butotherthan that, it was untouched by time or nature. There were two otherdoors: one to the left, one to the right.A narrow staircase stood in thecorner.

I inhaled deeply, thinking maybe I’d catch a whiff of somethingfamiliar. You know, like animals who can tell their kin by scent. All Ismelledwasdamp,mustywood.ButhadIreallyexpectedanythingmore?I’dbeenbornhere,neverlivedhere.AnynotionthatIknewthisplacewasplainoldcrazy.

The floor creaked beneathme as I crossed the kitchen. Through thedoor to the left was a larger room with a stone hearth and chairsupholstered in fur and hide. Itwas like a stage set for a showwith thelightsdimmedandwithactorswaitinginthewings.Oritwasamuseum.BromastaRheinhold’smuseum.Mydad.

“It’llwearoff.”I’d been so enthralled I hadn’t noticed Sol enter. He’d rolled up his

sleeves,leanmusclevisibleinhisfoldedarms.“Whatdidyousay?”Iasked.“Yousaid, ‘This is tooweird,’”Sol replied,hisexpressionsoft. “I said,

‘It’llwearoff.’”SoIwastalkingtomyselfwithoutrealizingit.Notagoodsign.Hesmiledwarmly,thegesturesoopenitleftmeachingforhimtohold

meagain.“Forwhatit’sworth,”hesaid.“Ithinkyou’rehandlingallofthisreallywell.”

“Youdo?”Iasked,surprised.“Yes,” he said. He didn’t expand on his comment, but drew a deep

breathandturnedtothetable,almostasiftohidehisface.“We’regoingto move this outside so there’s room for the horses. Can you checkupstairs?Especiallythewindows.”

“Ofcourse,”Ireplied,gratefulforthetask.“It’llgivemesomethingtodo.”

The staircase loomed. I grasped the rail and headed up, imaginingfootsteps overhead. I’d always believed that a building could absorb itshistory, just as when I had sat in the empty gym at school and couldalmost hear the shouts and screams of a thousand games played there.Mightsomememoryofmyfatherstalktheupperfloorsofthehouse,hisspiritembeddedinthetimberbeams?

Off the upstairs hallway, I found a bedroom.A rug lay on the floor,bluewithawhiteflowerwoveninthecenter.Onashelfsatacorndoll,aboutthesizeofmyhand,withlongyellowhairandascarletdress.Itwasthe same as a doll I’dmade at a craft camp years ago inDesMoines. Ididn’tknowwherethatdollhadgone.I’dthoughtithadgottenlostintheclutter atGrandma’s, then tossedoutwithall theother junkafter she’ddied.Istaredatitspaintedface,suddenlyconvincedthatthishadbeenmyroom.

IhadbeenababywhenGrandmahadtakenme.TherewasnowayIcould have remembered this place. And even if the room had oncebelongedtome,itdidn’tnow.Itbelongedtothishouse.

Mindadriftbetweenthetwoworlds, Isteppeduptothewindowandpeeredout frombetween thewoolendrapes.Thekitchen table stood intheyard.Delanehad foundbuckets for thehorses fromsomewhereandthewaterinsidethemglistened.ButitwasSolIwatched.

Hemade for the barn, headdown, on amission.Willie hadnailed it

aboutSol.Hewas100percent,sugar-coated,eyecandy.ButIwasstartingtothinkhewasmuchmorethanthat.He’dbeensowarmandkindwhenI’dsobbedonhisshoulder,andthenagain,downstairs.Hewasliterallyaworldaway fromthealoofnewcomerhe’dbeenat school.ThatSolhadbeentheonetotellmeaboutmydadfeltstrangelyintimate.

Isighed.“Justcheckthewindows,Mia.Getagrip.”Thenext roomwas identical to the first. I rattled thewindow. Itwas

secure.Feelingmoreconfident,alittlemorelikemyself,Iflungopenthenextdoor.Iscreamed.

Afloortoceiling,walltowallmassofgraycobwebcrawlingwithhuge,brown spiny legs confronted me. I say legs—I didn’t hang around longenoughtotakeinmuchofanythingelse.Iboltedout,slammingthedoorbehind me. Chills coursed my spine. I slapped my hair, shivered andshook,asItriedtoshedthecreepfactorfrommyskin.

Footsteps thunderedupthe stairsandDelanedarted into thepassage.“Weheardascream,abang!”hegasped.

Ipointedatthecloseddoor.“There,”Isqueaked.“They’reinthere.”Delanestalkedtomyside,hisbrowlow,readytofight.“Whatisit?”he

whispered,hisbodytense.“It’sabouttwentyhuffinggreatbigspiders!”Delanepaused,hiseyebrowsraised.“Mia!”“What do you mean ‘Mia’?” I grabbed his arm. “Delane, there are

twentyhuffinggreatbig spiders in there!”ClearlyDelanemisunderstoodtheseriousnessofthesituation.

“Howbig?”heasked.“Whatdoyoumeanhowbig?”“Well,” hemade a gap between his hands about the size of a dinner

plate,“thisbig?Or,thisbig?”Hewidenedthegaptothesizeofagarbagecanlid.

“Thefirst!”Isquealed.“Yougetspidersthatothersize?”“Some,”hereplied,seeminglynottheleastbitdisturbed.“Don’tyou?”“Notanywhereyou’llevercatchme.”Before I could savehim fromcertaindoom,Delaneopened thedoor.

Legs scurried to all corners, forcing an encore of theMia Stone: ElasticLimbs extravaganza. Several of the foul fiends held their ground.Motionless,theyeyeballedmewithlegsoutstretched.Atleastteninches

across,eachspiderhadascarletslashalongitshairy,brownback.“Stripe-backnest,”saidDelane.“Impressive.”NotadescriptionI’duse.“Aretheypoisonous?”“Nah. Justugly.”Heclosed thedoor. “They’reactuallyhandy tohave

around. Stripe-backs eat scroachers—nasty little critters that chew theirwaythroughanything.”

“Canyougetridofthem?”Iasked.Withoneeyeonthedoor,mymindcontemplatedanovernightstayinanalreadypopulatedhouse.

“Tricky,” saidDelane. “I had one inmy bedroomwhen Iwas young.Youcouldhearitinthewalls.Thingis,they’retoofasttocatch.Thisonedemolishedachairin,like—”

“Imeantthestripe-backs!”“Oh,”helaughed.“Sure,youcangetridofthem.Justpickthemupand

throwthemout.”Like thatwas ever going to happen. I tried to freemyself fromwhat

Willie would call, “A State of Revoltitude.” I shook out my limbs andcried,“Blahhhgrhllahaa.”

“You’rehavingagoodday,”commentedDelane.That earned him thump on the arm. “I feel like I’m on a twisted

student-exchangeprogram.”Idon’t thinkheknewwhat Imeant.He leanedbackagainst thewall

andfoldedhisarms.Hisgrinfaded.“Mia,justsoyouknow,Ialwaysvoted‘aye’ontellingyouaboutBromasta.”

The stripe-backs momentarily forgotten, I nodded. “I know,” I said.“Sol’sthesecretkeeper.”

“Hehasa lotonhismind,”saidDelane.“ButSolandun’sno liar,Mia.He’sworriedaboutyou.Thisplaceisn’tlikewhereyou’refrom.”

Talkaboutunderstatement.“No,”Isaid.“Wedon’tgoaroundknockingeach other’s blocks off, if that’swhat youmean.Well, notmost of thetime.”

A little twinkle, like Pete’s when a good mood struck him, enteredDelane’sblueeyes.“Doyoumissit?”

“Sort of,” I said. As soon as I said it, I thought of the cafeteria atCrownsvilleHigh,my bedroom at home, andRusty vacationing over atReggieWest’sMotorRepairandSalvage.Isighed.“Delane,IjustwanttostayalivelongenoughtofindJay.”

“Then you should help with some last-minute preparations.” He

playfully slappedme on the back, no doubt revenge formywell-placedthump.“Wanttotrysomemagic?”

*

Tome,magicmeantwickedoldwitchesandabracadabra.Butthatwasn’thowtheydidthingsinBrakaland.

I balanced an orb onmy palm and gazed at the purple grain inside.DelaneandIstoodjustofftheporch.Solperchedontherailing,watchinguswithoneeyeandthevalleyslopeswiththeother.

“Ready?”askedDelane.He lookedasexcitedaswhenJaycamehomewithanewgame.“Justsquashit.”

I wanted to—I really wanted to—but it was like holding a pin to aballoonandnotknowingwhenyou’dheartheBANG.

“Ithoughtmagicwasbanned.”“That was way before,” Delane replied, waving the thought away.

“Besides, this is basic stuff.We use whatever we can get our hands onthesedays.”

Ifocusedontheorb.“Won’tIgetcut?”“Mia,Ipromise.Justcrushit,andthenthrowit.”Okay.Icoulddothis.“One.Two...”I held my breath, crushed the orb between my palms, and made a

tossing motion, but there was nothing to toss. As soon as I’d appliedpressure,theorbinmyhandvanishedandheatenteredmypalms.Aflashofsilver,likefairydust,sparkledinfrontofmyeyes.Icheckedmyhandtofindnobloodandnoorb.

“Told you itwas easy,” saidDelane.Hepointedup.Aball of purplelightwassuspendedaboveus.“Nowwatch.”

Purpleraysradiatedfromtheballoflightlikespokesonawagonwheel.They stretched rigidly ineverydirection, ten feet in length, anamethyststartwinklingintheair.

“Ididthat,”Isaid,andfeelingratherproudofmyself,IgrinnedatSol.“That’smyspell.”

Sol laughed and flashedme a glimpse of an orb in his hand. “Watchthis.”

Hejumpedfromtherailing,crushedhisorb,andtosseditabouttwentyfeetfrommine.Asifdrawnbymagnetism,theraysfromSol’sspelljoinedwiththespokesfrommineuntilanintricatelatticehungaboveourheads,

glisteningpurpleinwhatwasleftofday’slight.“It’s a repeller,” said Delane, takingmore orbs from his pack. “We’ll

connectthemaroundthehouse.”“Andthedemonscan’tgetthrough?”“Notachance.”Thatwasmorelikeit.“Thenletmedoanother.”“Butspacethemapart,”Delanewarned.“Wedon’thavethatmany.So

aimwell.”The purple lattice grew. Heat radiated from its shimmering threads.

Like a pretty version of the stripe-back nest, the entire housewas sooncocoonedinawebofpurplelight.

“We can pass through it,” saidDelane, and demonstrated by slicing ahandthroughthebeams.“Butnotdemons.Repellersdodreadfulthingstotheirblood.”

“Good,” I replied. Anything to exact revenge on a shadow imp.As Irummagedthroughthepackformoreamethystorbs,myhandchancedona yellow sphere that was slightly larger in size. “What’s this one do?” Iasked,makingagrabforit.

Sol leapt tomyside. “Careful,”he said.Hegraspedmywristbefore Icouldtouchtheorb.“Thesemakeabigbang.Blowustothestars,andwewon’thavetoworryaboutdemons.”

Ididn’tgetchancetoapologize.Ascreamechoedthroughthevalley.Exceptforthespellofprotectionaroundus, itwasalmostdark.From

whatwecouldsee,thetreesstoodsilentandstill.Allthatmovedwasthecrimsonmist.

“Justintime,”saidSol.Delane bounded over. He grabbed the bag off the ground. “Who’s

hungry?We’vegotSnickers.”NowIreallyhadhearditall.“Snickers?”“Tiametbringsthemover,”hecontinued.Heenteredthehouse,leading

ustotheden.“ForRip.Helovesthem.”ThestateofRip’steethfinallymadesense.“Puresugarygoodness.You

know,wehavelotsoftastytreatsontheOtherSide.”“ButSnickershavetobethebest.”The repellers cast a purple glow into the den. The demonswere out

there—Iwascertainofthat—buttherewasnowaytheycouldgetinside.Sol lit a fire in thehearth asDelane and I brought blankets and rugs

from around the house and prepared for a night on the floor. Sol’s firesoonwarmedtheden.

Aftereatingournutritioussupper,Delanewanderedtothewindow.“Maybethedemonswon’tfindushere,”Isaid,thoughwe’dcreateda

hugepurplebeacon.“Nochanceofthat,”repliedDelane.Hemotionedformetojoinhim.Blacknesshungheavyoutside,anominouscurtainshroudingwhatever

lurkedinthevoid.Throughagapinthelattice,somethinglurchedbythebarrier,largerthanashadowimporvisagedemon.

“Thatlookedlikeatallondemon,”saidDelane.“Verynasty.”IsensedSolcomeupbehindme.Hischestbrushedmybackashetoo

peeredoutside.Thedemonshadincreasedinnumber,butIsawonlySol’sreflectionin

themurkyglass.EverytimehebreathedIfelthischestmoveagainstme.Iwasnosquirt,butIalwaysforgothowtallhewasuntilhewasrightbesideme.DidhehavethefaintestideahowIfeltwhenIwasaroundhim?

Ididn’tfeelthatwayaroundDelane.Delanewascute,cuteenoughtospinheadsatCrownsvilleHigh.Butbutterfliesdidn’tmigratethroughmygutwhenIsawhimastheydidwhenIwaswithSol.

I caughtDelane looking atme, then Sol. And though the expressionwasbarelyperceptible,Iwassurehefrowned.

Another shriek rang from right outside the house and the look onDelane’s face lifted. He leaned in to the window. “Looks like we havemorecompany,”hesaid.“Heretheycome.”

SEVENTEEN

PictureacrowdonTV.Ariotoraprotest.Picturesurgingbodies,snarls,

pumping fists. That’s how they came—a mass of demons, all differentbreeds,alldrawnbythespellandthescentofwhathidbehindit.Onebyone, they launchedat thepurpleweb.Onebyone thewebthrewthemback.

“They’relookingforweaknesses,”saidSol.“Butwe’resafe,right?”Iasked.“Foraslongasthespellholds.”“Andhowlong’sthat?”“Longenough.”Only thedemons closest to themagicwebwerevisible.Severalwere

winged, like gargantuan bats, and soared above the rabble, their ghastlyfaces tinged with purple light. They paid each other no heed. All theywantedwasus.

“Thiscan’tgoonallnight,”Isaid.“Surely,they’ll—”Athudcamefromabove.Weallstaredattheceiling.Anotherthud.A

wailingscreechfollowed.Soldashedtothedoor.“Theremustbeagap.They’reontheroof!”Delane snatched up the pack with the remaining spells and hurried

afterhim.Itwasliketheshadowimpsintheforestalloveragain.“You’renotgoingoutthere,”Icried,trailingbehind.

“Notme,”saidDelane.HethrustthepackintoSol’sarms.“But it’scrazyoutthere,” I said, tryingtoforceSolto lookatme.He

wouldn’t.“It’ssuicide,Sol.I’mserious.Don’tdoit.”Anotherthud.Andanother.Myheartjustabouthittheceiling.IgrabbedSol’sarm,tugged.Finally,helookedatme.“Sol,therewere

onlyacoupleof them in thewoodsearlier.There’reamillionout therenow.”

“And they’re trying to find a way in.” He took my hand and gently

removed it fromhis arm. “Keep thedoor shut.Don’t comeout, for anyreason.”

Helefttheden,closingthedoorbehindhim.I turned on Delane. “You’re just going to let him do this?” I asked.

“Delane?”The banging took on rhythm. Fists pounding on wood, shaking the

raftersaboveus.“Delane!”Thiswasn’t right. If ithadbeenWillie,Kieran,orSeth, Iwouldhave

tied them to the ground before letting this insanity take them. Or wewouldhavestoodateachother’sside,fightingtothedeathasone.Aftereverything we’d been through together, I couldn’t leave Sol out therealone.Determinedtointervene,Isnatchedmyswordfromthehearthandheadedforthedoor.

Delanewasalreadyastepahead.Heslammedhisbackagainstthedoor.“You’restayinghere,”hesaid,atouchofSol’stoneinhisvoice.

Ibrandished the sword likeabaseballbat, ready to swingat anythingthatthreatenedSol’slife.“Getoutofmyway.”

“Mia,he’llmakeit.”“Delane,nothing,not that tattoo,not some spell is going to stop that

manydemons!Nowgetoutofmyway.”“Andwhatdoyouplantodo?”heasked,hisbackstillbracingthedoor.

“Takethemonliketheshadowimp?”Assoonashe said it, Ipulledback, stung—though,ofcourse,hewas

right.“Then showmewhat to dowith this thing,” I begged. I pointed the

sword, planted my feet, trying to make him see that we could help.“Delane,showmehowtouseit!”

Delane grabbedmywrists and placedmy open hand around the fistthatgrippedthesword.“Youholditfirm,”hesaid,andsqueezed.Hiseyesnarrowed.“Andifanythingcomesthroughthatdoor,youramthatbladethroughitsgutsohardthatitcomesouttheotherside.”

Mybreathcaughtinthebackofmythroat.Itwasn’twhatI’dwantedtohear.“AndwhataboutSol?”

Delane shook his head. “Mia, there are things out there worse thanshadowimpsandvisagedemons.Therearecreatureswithclawslikerazorsthatcanslityourthroatwithatouch.Demonsthatspitpoisonintoyour

eyes,blindingyoubeforetheytearyouapart.You,me,wewouldn’tlastasecondoutthere,butSolanduncarriestheLunestral.Youdon’tknowitsstrength.” He squeezed my hands once more before releasing his grip.“He’llmakeit.”

Adifferent soundcame fromabove.Delane raisedahand for silence.Heplacedafingertohislips.Thud.Thud.Thesoundrumbledthroughthehouse.Ashriekthatcouldshatterglassfollowed.

Delanedidnotmove.“He’sontheroof,”hewhispered.“He’llbreakhisneck!”Icried.Delanetrackedthesoundsoverhead.“Idon’tthinkso.”Energized,hegrabbedmyarm,urgingmetofollowhimtothewindow.

Idroppedtheswordwithaclang.Mayhemcontinuedoutside.TherewasnosignofSol.Oneofthewingeddemonshadsurelyswoopeddownandtakenhim,I

knew it. I waited for his body, broken, yet beautiful, to plunge to theground.Solhadtakenonerisktoomany.Itwouldbehislast.

Howmuch longer could it go on? I wanted to dive into the nearestchair,toscrunchmyeyesclosed,andstickmyfingersinmyearslikethebigbabyIreallywas.ButIcouldn’t.Ihadtoknow.Ihadtosee.

Then a flash lit up outside like a nuclear blast.A boom, louder thanthunder, shook the house. The explosion filled the air with limbs. Thehorses brayed in the kitchen, their stomps adding to the confusion.Webraced for a secondwave. Itdidn’t come.Something landedoutside thewindow.

“Youwantedtoknowwhattheyellowspelldid,”saidDelane.“Youjustsawit.”

I’dbeendazzledbytheflash,soall I sawwerepurplestreaksandtheafterglowofwhitelightburninginthebackofmyeyes.ButImadeoutablurred silhouette close to thewindow.A second later, thedooroff theporchopenedandtherewasmovementinthekitchen.

“It’shim,”saidDelane,gesturingmetostaybackashedartedthroughthedoor.

Sol’s voice carried. “It’s holding,” I heard him say, between deepbreaths.“Mia?”

“She’sfine,”repliedDelane.“Solandun...”Theirwords faded intowhispers and I hurried to join them. I got no

more thanacoupleof stepsbeforeDelane reappeared, alone.Heclosed

thedoorbehindhim.“He’sokay,”hesaid,beaming.ThenwhywasSolhidinginthekitchen?IknewIshouldtrustDelane,

butIhadafeelinginmygutthatsomethingwaswrong.“He’shurt,isn’the?”Iasked,dreadingtheanswer.

“He’scheckingupstairs,”Delanereplied, like itwasnobigdeal. “Mia,don’tworry.”

Only,Iwasworried.I’dheardSolontheroof.I’dseentheexplosion.“HowcanInotworrywithyoutwoaround?”

Delane hurried to the fire and gave it a poke. He looked like a guytryingtobebusy.

Sol’s steps sounded overhead, but my anxiety didn’t lift. I couldn’texplainthefeeling,butIhadtoseeSol formyself. “Ishouldcheck ifheneedsahand,”Isaid.

“Mia,he’sjustsecuringupstairs.Howcouldhebedoingthatifhewashurt?”

Itwasaverygoodquestion.Howcouldhedothat ifhe’dbeenslicedopenbyarazor-sharpclawandwasbleedingtodeath,orhadbeenblindedbyapoison-spittingdemon.Whatthehellwasthematterwithme?

Igroaned.“Youtwodrivemenuts,”Isaid.“Icantellwhenyou’reuptosomething.You’dhappilytellmeaboutBromasta,butyouwon’ttellmewhat’sgoingonhere.”

Delaneputhisarmaroundme.“Nothingis,”hesaid.Five, then tenminutespassed.Soldidnot reappear.Thedemonshad

already returned in numbers, the explosion only a temporary deterrent.Nowthey’dregrouped.Theylookedpissed.

“Theyreallydon’tgiveup,dothey?”Isaid.“Notwhenthey’rehungry.”“Butthey’reallsodifferent.Howmanykindsarethere?”Fights had broken out among the demons. There were creatures of

green,blue, red.Paleones, asnastyas the shadow imps,ofwhich Iwascertain I caught a couple in the crowd. And the winged ones, scaledharpies,withclawsliketheonesDelanehaddescribed.

“There are thousands of types,” saidDelane. “Demons interbreed andgetnastierwitheachincarnation.WhenEliasopenedtheWarnonMines,he tookmany of the demons there and bred them himself, creating hisownmonsters.”

“Likethevisagedemons?”

Aganglydemonhurled thebodyof a smaller, rotund creature at thebarrier.Iheardthethudwhenitfelltotheground.

“Visage demons are different,” said Delane. “Some were once men,someweredemonsofotherbreedsuntilEliasgothishandsonthem.”

“Men?”“Fromallofthefivefamilies.It’salongstory.Notalldemonsarelike

this,” he added, gesturing outside. “And not all demons came from theWarnonMines. There have always been demons in ourworld, but theywereseparate,rarefied.”

With an ear trained for a sound of Sol, I listened to Delane’s tale.“Rarefied?”Iasked.

“Itmeansthey’relikeme.”“You’reademon?”“No,” he laughed. “I’m Samu—one of the five original families—but

rarefied,pure. IhavenootherbloodbutSamu.Therearen’tmanyofusleft.”

I’d been curious about Sol’s and Delane’s roots ever since Old ManCrowleyhadtoldmeaboutthefamiliesinBordertown.Iwasn’tsureifitwaspolitetoaskthemabouttheirbloodlines,butDelanehadbroughtituphimself,andIwasitchingtoknowmore.

“Youhavenobloodfromtheotherfamilies?”“Not a drop,”Delane replied. “Itmakes it difficult to find a girl.My

familyisdeterminedthatwekeepthelinepure.”“Youcan’tseewhoeveryouwant?”“Notifyouwanttogetyourhandsonthefamilysilver.”I’dnever considered that.Crowleyhad just said thatBrakalandwas a

meltingpotof families andbreeds. I couldn’t imaginewhat itmeant forDelane.Hewasthenicestguyever.Hecouldtakehispickofgirls.Iwaspretty sure Willie would take him in a heartbeat. But an arrangedmarriage?Hedeserved tobewith someonehe loved, regardless ofwhathisparentsplannedtodowiththeirmoney.

“Sowhat’sspecialabouttheSamu?”Iasked,wonderingwhyitwassoimportantthatDelane’sfamilyremainpure.

“We’retough.”Hetookmyhandandplaceditagainsthischest.“Canyoufeelthat?”

Iwasn’tsurewhatIwasexpectedtofind.“Justyourheart.”“Nowhere.”

Hemovedmyhand tohis right side, just abovehiship.And there itwas.Anotherbeat,asstrongasthefirst.

“Youhavetwo!”“TocleanlykillaSamurequirestwoaccurateshots,”saidDelane.“Our

hearts rejuvenate. If one is hurt, the second still beats while the otherheals.OnlytimeandageslowsaSamuheart.Andwelivealongtime.”

“Longerthanhumans?”“Much.Ourbonesare tougher, too.Nota singleSamubonehasever

brokensincethefivefamiliesappearedinourworld.”Thiswasprettycool.Iwasbecomingfriendswithaguywhohadtwo

heartsandindestructiblebones.“Impressive.AndwhataboutSol?”Delanepaused.“Solandun’snotrarefied,”hesaid.“Butthat’sdifferent.”“Howso?”Hewatchedthedemonscontinuetheirrampage.“That’suptohimto

explain.”ButwhenSol returned, Iwasmoreconcernedaboutcheckingthathe

wasokaythanaskingaboutfamiliesandbloodlines.Hishairwaswild.Hisshirtwasdisheveled.Sweatglistenedonhisbrow.

“You’repale,”Isaid,hurryingtohisside.“Youokay?”Helingeredinthedoorway,massaginghisbackatthewaist,twistingas

ifsomethinghadpulled.“I’mfine.You?”heasked,checkingmealloverasifI’dbeentheonefightingdemons.

“Allinonepiece,”Ireplied,confused.“ThankstoDelane.”“Shewantedtogooutandfight,”addedDelane.“Itoldheritwasabad

idea.”“Verybad,”saidSol.HelookedfrommetoDelane,andtheshadowI’d

caughtonhisfaceaftertheimpattackreturned.“Thespell’sholding,”hemuttered.

“Thankstoyou,” I replied. Inudgedhisarm,tryingto jolthimoutofthemoodwitha joke.“Butyouhavetostopwiththecrazyactionstuff,Sol.Youdon’thavetobethebigherotoimpressme.”

“I wish you’d told me that before,” he said, with a half smile thatinterruptedmyheartbeatmorethananyshadowimporvisagedemonevercould.

Ismiledback.“Sowhatnow?”“Werest,”saidDelane.Hesaiditasif itwastheeasiestthingintheworld,despitethecircus

going on outside. Delane hunkered down in the corner close to thewindow. Ipitched a spotby the fire. I’dbarely gotten comfy,whenSollaidhisrugbesideme.ItwasonlywhenhesatthatInoticedasmallredstainonthebackofhisshirt.

“Sol,you’rebleeding.”Helaidhisswordbesidehismakeshiftbedandshookouthisblanket.

“It’snothing,”hesaid.“Youhaven’tevenlooked.”HeglancedatDelane,whowaswatchingusfromthecorner, thenhe

turnedtofaceme.“It’sreallynothing,”Solsaid,whenhecaughtmestillwatchinghim.

I studied him closely as he sat. For the first time, he looked almostweary.Hiseyesappearedtohavedarkened;liquidblackringedtheiris.

Idrewupmyknees,tryingtoholdontothefire’sremainingwarmth.AsImoved,Solreachedahandtowardmyface.Convincedhewasabouttorandomlykissme,myheartstopped.

“Youhavecobwebinyourhair,”hesaid.“Oh,” I said, half disappointed, and then, “OH!”when I remembered

thestripe-backs.“It’sjustalittle.Holdstill.”Hegentlybrushedthestrandsofwebfrom

myhairandthenquicklypulledaway,almostapologetic.“IthinkIgotit.Youreallyshouldrestnow.”

ButIlayawakelongafterthefirehadfadedtoembers.Screamsragedoutside.Thehorsesstirredinthekitchen.Icouldn’tsleep,nomorethanon the night that Jay had disappeared. Through everything that hadhappened during the day, thoughts of Jay had never left me. I couldalmost hear his voice, like one of those strange echoes I’d heard in theWastes.I’dthoughtnofurtherthanfindinghimandgettinghimhome—whateverthatentailed.ButnowIknewthatJaywasaBrakalander,too.Acastofflikeme.Anexile.AndIwastheonewhowasgoingtohavetotellhim.

OrmaybeIwouldn’ttellhim.I’dtakehimhomeandwe’dcontinueasnormal.We’dpretend thatBrakaland and the greatBromastaRheinholddidn’texist.We’dsimplybeMiaandJayStone,wholivedontheoutskirtsoftownwiththeircrazyuncle.

Istaredattheceilingbeams.MaybeJay’sroomhadbeentheonewiththe stripe-backs. I imagined him bounding downstairs in the morning,

ready for a day of sword fights, demon slaughter, and lessons inmagic.He’dprobablyloveit.

“Can’tsleep?”askedSol.Iturnedontomysidetofindhimwatchingme.“Idon’tknowwhy,”I

said, quietly, careful not towakeDelane,whose deep breathing echoedacrosstheroom.“IfeellikeI’veworkedthreeshiftsandrunamarathonallinoneday.”

“Amarathon?”“Twenty-sixpointtwomiles.”Sol heaved himself onto his elbows. “We’ve come farther than that

today,”hesaid.“Onhorseback.”“That’strue.”However farwe’d come, Iwas certain I’d never forget the things I’d

seen inBrakaland.The imageof that rabbit in theWasteswould foreverbeimprintedinmymemory.IthoughtofCrownsville’snewsubdivisionson thewest sideof town.All the land thatway,whichhadbeen sharedbetweenCrownsvilleandBrakaland,wouldbecometheWastes.

Ididn’tknowhowtofixtheproblem,Ididn’tevenhaveacluewhereto start, but therewas one thing Iwas sure of:Whatwas happening toBrakalandwaswrong.

“Sol,ifwe’resqueezingyouout,thenisn’ttheSuzerainright?Wouldn’titbebetterifyoufoughtback?”

Helookedsurprisedbymyquestion,ormaybehewasjustshockedthatsomeone from theOther Side even cared. “There are somewhobelieveso,”hesaid.“ButimaginetheBarriercomingdowninCrownsville.Whatwouldhappen?”

Itwasagoodquestion.“Thearmywouldbeoutfasterthanyoucansay‘domesticterrorist.’”

“Sothesidesarealreadydrawn.Whathappensnext?”“Idon’tknow.Firstwe’dfaint,”Ijoked,“thenIguesswe’dtalk.”Solshookhishead.“Eliaswon’ttalk.He’llstrike.Whatdoyoudo?”Don’taskmewhy,butIbristled.“Wehithimrightback!”“And?”I sighed. “AndEliaswill hit again.” It all seemed like such ahopeless

mess. “Sol,America gets blamed for everything that goeswrong on thisplanet,butyoucan’tblameusforthis.Wewouldn’twantwaranymore

thanyouwould.”“Butwarwouldcome,”saidSol.“WiththeSolenettainElias’shand,the

Equinox will spread, starting a chain reaction that can’t be stopped.Picture demons streaming onto the streets of towns and cities all acrossyourworld.”

Itriedtopictureit.VisagedemonsinCrownsville?InOmaha,Chicago,attheWhiteHouse.“You’resayingwe’dwipeeachotherout.”

He shrugged. “Oneday itwould end,”he said. “Afterwe’ddestroyedenoughofoneanotherthattherewouldbenopointinfightinganymore.Nowpicture theworld.TheBarrier’s gone.What’s left of twodifferentworldswouldbethrusttogether.”

“It’dbechaos.”’“Ripegroundforsomeonetotakeover.”Finallyitmadesense.“Elias.”“Mia, Elias doesn’t want to attack your world for the good of

Brakaland,” said Sol. “Nothing he’s ever done has been for the good ofBrakaland.”

“Butyoucan’tsithereandwaittobesqueezedintooblivion.”“Thereisaplan,”hesaid,keenly.“TheTreatyofRoi.It’saproposalto

form boundaries between your space and ours.We can’t reclaimwhat’sgone,butwecouldhaltwhat’sinprogress.”

A treaty, like in the books I’d read forRifkin’s debate, “The clash ofcivilizationshasnobasisinreality.”HowwasIevergoingtocompletemyassignmentknowingallofthis?Treaties.Agreements.Theyneverworked.“Sol,nooneevenknowsyou’rehere.Who’dbelieveyou?”

“Itwouldmean letting theOtherSideseeus,”Sol replied. “Ahostofemissaries would enter your world.” It didn’t look as if the prospectpleasedhim.“Butitwilltaketime.Untilthen,thepriorityistokeeptheBarrierintactandstopElias’swar,orthere’llbenothingleftworthsavingoneithersideoftheBarrier.”

Ifloppedback,listeningtothedemonsoutside,tryingtogetstraightallI was involved in. And then I thought of Jay and none of it seemedimportant.“Sol,we’vestillgotachancetocatchthegang,right?”

“Weshould.I’dneverplannedgoingmuchfartherthanwedidtonight.TheOrionroadisfasterterrain,butitswervesnorthbeforeitveerstowardOrion, and the gangwon’t travel through the night on theOrion road.NotwiththeSolenetta.”

“Demons?”Iasked.“Thieves,”repliedSol.Helookedtothewindowwhereblackshadows

dancedbeyondthepurplelight.“Mia...”Iwaitedforhimtocontinue.“Whatisit?”ThoughI’dthoughtSolhadbeencheckingthedemons,Inoticedthat

hewasactuallylookingatDelane.“What’swrong?”Iasked.He sighed and then straightened. “It’s nothing,” he said, as he turned

backtome.“Youshouldsleep.We’llleaveearlyinthemorning.I’llkeepwatchifithelps.”

I lay beneathmyblanket for the longest time, trying to tune out thescreams. Somewhere upstairs the stripe-backs crept through their web,andthecorndolllayonhershelf.ButneithercreepybeastsnormemoriesofachildhoodI’dneverknowncoulddistractmefromSol.Heremainedonhisback,hiseyestotheceiling,alert.I’llkeepwatchifithelps,he’dsaid.Anditdid.HisunblinkinggazewasthelastthingIsawbeforeIfinallyfellasleep.

EIGHTEEN

Whetheritwasbecauseofsharingahousewiththehorsesorsharinga

roomwithtwoguys,amustyodorhungover theplacewhenIawoke. Igrabbedmyblanketandcrepttothewindow.Inthedawn’sfirstlight,thedemons,andall trace that they’dbeenthere,hadgone.Only thepurplelatticeremained,thoughithadfadedto lavender.Eventheredmisthadcleared.

SolandDelaneslept,so,takingcarenottowakethem,Itiptoedtothedoor, crept past the horses, and slipped outside. The crisp morningsparkledwithdew.Palesunbeamsstruckthemountainsandglistenedonthepondbesidethepaddock.Fromacrossthevalley,afaintpounding,likeadistantdrumbeat,couldbeheard.Thatwastheonlysound.

Gladtobeinthefreshair,Isatontheporch’sbottomstep,myblanketbeneathme.A feather lay on the grass besidemy feet, deep, yet brightblue, and almost a foot long. I picked it up, entranced by the greeniridescence that shimmered where sunlight caught the tips of its softvanes.Itwasabeautifulthing,vibrantandfullofcolor.ButthenIthoughtaboutthebestiaryoutsidelastnightanditimmediatelylostitsappeal.Iletitfalltotheground.Therewasreallyonlyonethingonmymind.Todaywe’dreachOrionandthatmeantfindingJay.

Yesterday,Orionhadjustbeenaword,avaguesomewhereinaworldIdidn’tknow.Todayitfelttangibleandreal.ReachingOrionwasabouttheSolenettafortheothers,andiftherewasanythingIcoulddotohelpstopthat war, then I’d gladly lend a hand. But whatever magic lay in theSolenetta’sstones,itwasstilljustanecklaceand,Isuppose,Ididn’ttrulybelievethatapieceofjewelrycouldcausesomuchtrouble.Jaywasfleshandblood.MylittleSpud.

“You’reawakeearly.”IturnedtofindSolontheporch,hishairtousledfromsleep.Thecolor

had returned to his skin and he looked strong and refreshed.After how

palehe’dbeenlastnight,itwasarelief.“Thereweredrums,”Isaid,pointingtowardthehorizon.“Orsomething

likethat.”“I heard them too.” He sat at my side, his long legs bent, his arms

restingonhisknees.“Demons?”Iasked.“Maybe.Butwedon’thavetoreentertheforest.Weshouldbefine.”Wesatinsilence,butthiswasdifferentfromtheawkwardpauseswhen

he’ddrivenmetoMickey’s.Ifeltnopressuretospeak.Itwaslikearegularmorning—asifwewerethefirstupafteranightcampingatJacob’sLake.

“Youwererightaboutthemist,”Isaideventually.“It’scleared.”“It’llbuildagainduringtheday,”saidSol.“It’salwaysthesameinthe

valley.”Almost asmuch as his stoicism, Iwas growing tohate the sadness in

Sol’s voice whenever we talked of his home. I chased those fleetingmomentswhenheopenedupwithasmileorlaugh,andI’dseethehumorandmischiefinside.Itseemedhardforhimtoletgoandrelax.

IknewSolcouldgetalongfinewithoutanyhelpfromme,butstill,asIwatchedhimonthestep,Ibattledtheurgetoputanarmaroundhimandsay,inmyownstupidway,thatIgotthatlifesuckedhere,thatnowherewasperfect,andthatonedayIhopeditwouldgetbetter.ThinkingthatwayhadgottenmethroughthedarktimesinCrownsville.

Instead,Iasked,“HowfarisittoOrion?”“Weshouldreachitbynoon,”hereplied.Andthereitwas.Thatlittle

flickeroffuninhiseyes.“IfDelaneeverwakesup.”Ismiled.“It’squitethebromancewithyoutwo.”Hefrowned.“Bromance?”“Youknow,buddylove.Guystogetherthroughthickandthin.”“Wegrewuptogether,”saidSol.“He’smorebrotherthanfriend.”“Likeme andWillie.” I laughed as I imagined her striding across the

valleyfloortowardus.“She’dbustagutifshecouldseemeinthisdress.”“Thedresssuitsyou,”saidSol.“Youlookgoodinred.”I took a double take at him, but hewasn’tmaking fun.Whatwas it

about me and guys who liked red? It was the only thing Sol had incommonwithAndy.

“You’llseeWillieagain,Mia,”hesaid.“Iknow.”

Solwas the only oneherewho knewwhere I came from,who knewaboutCrownsvilleHigh,andaboutmylifeontheOtherSide.AllIknewabouthisworldweresentinelsandvisagedemons.

“Idon’tgethowtherecanbemountainshere,”Isaid,wantingtoknowmoreabouthisworld.“ThatpeopleontheOtherSidecan’tseethem.”

“MaybetheOtherSidedoes see it,”he replied. “Like in theevenings,whenthesunsinksbeneaththeclouds,andforjustamoment,youcatchsomethingoutthere—amountain,ariver,acityinthesky.”

I watched him, unable to look away from his striking profile. Hetwistedtowardme,almoststealingmybreathwithhissmile.“Ionceheardthatwe’retheghostsyousometimesseeontheOtherSide.”

Heleanedintomeashespoke,hisshouldernudgingmineasiftodrawmeintohiswords.Istaredathim.Imean,Iwasstaringathim,myeyesvacantandglazed.Ihesitated.

There’sa linebetweenenjoyingsomeeyecandyandwantingtogorgeon a whole bag. I’d not knowingly stepped over it, but nomatter howmany times I imagineda touchorakiss,Sol and I couldneverbemorethan adream.Anything elsewouldbring a longdescent into aworldofhurt.

I snapped out of my daze, reminding myself that I actually had tospeak. “SoDuddonMalone is the poltergeist in your closet?Gives newmeaningtotheterm‘closetmonster.’”

Sol threw back his head and laughed. “It certainly doesn’t sound likesomethingyou’dwanttoruninto.Itwouldscaremehalftodeath.”

“You?” I gasped, inmockhorror. “I don’t believe that anything scaresyou.”

Hisgazepenetratedmineandhissmilefaded.“Somethingsscareme.”I tookadeepbreath,hissuddenintensitycatchingmeoffguard.“But

still,”Icontinued,hastily.“IntheWasteswesawOnaly,butOnalycan’tseeyou.TheSleeperHillGiantappearsinbothplaces,themountainsonlyhere.How?”

“There are places that appear on both sides,” said Sol, back to hisnormal,businesslike self, “someonlyhere, someonly inyourworld.Butdon’t confuse that with what you saw in the Wastes. There’s nothingnatural about the Wastes.” He shrugged. “I’m no expert. I never paidmuchattentioninschool.Barrierloreistediouslyboring.Idoubtiftherearemanyleftwhotrulyunderstandit.”

“IthinkIgetit.TheBarrierisn’tawallorafence.”“That’s right,” saidSol.He seemed impressed that Iunderstood. “The

Barrier isn’t a solid boundary you can touch. It doesn’t begin or end. Itexistseverywhere. It’s all aroundus.Thegatewayat theRidge isoneofmanyweaknesses.”

“Thenthisworldisreallyanotherdimension.”“Butconnectedtoyourworld,”saidSol.“Alltheworldsareconnected.

As I said, I’m no expert. Once Elias resurfaced, school didn’t seem soimportant.Ijustwantedtogetoutandfight.”

Though Sol had been at CrownsvilleHigh, I couldn’t picture him inclass,oneithersideoftheBarrier.“Soyouhaveschoolhere,”Isaid.

“Wehaveschool,”hereplied.“It’sdifferent.”“NoalgebraorSpanish?”“WelearnlanguagesfromtheOtherSide.Andthenthere’shistoryand

culture. Weaponry. And some magic, though not as much since thePurge.”

Thiswaswild.Sola student inBrakaland. Itwasawholenewsideofhim.“IfeellikeIknowyou,”Isaid,wantinghimtocontinue,“butIdon’t.Whataboutyourparents?”

“MymotherdiedwhenIwaseight.Myfather’s in theWest. Ihaveayoungersister,twoyoungerbrothers.”

“Youmustmissthem.Doesn’tyourfathermindyoubeingouthere?”“He knows it’s important that we keep close to the Ridge. What

happensthereiscrucialtounderstandingtheSuzerain’splans.”“Butit’ssodangerous.You’reprettymuchinthelion’smouth.”“Things are different here,” said Sol. “The path to adulthood starts

earlier, at eleven for boys. That’s the agewhen you travel, you train tofight, you learn to survive, so that you can earn yourself the right tobecalledaman.”

Jaywasalmosteleven,justakid.Ifhe’dstayedinBrakaland,he’dsoonbeginhis journey intoadulthood.Andme?Mysenioryearstarted inthefall,andthencollege,myticketoutofCrownsville.Butwhatifmyfatherhadkeptmehere?Whatonearthwouldmylifehavebeenlike?

“Whataboutwomenandgirls?”Iasked.“Dotheyfight?”“Theyfight,”saidSol.“Ifthat’stheirpath.”I’dneverseenhimsorelaxed.Anymorelaidbackandhe’dgiveAndya

run for hismoney.Wrappingmy skirt aroundmy legs, I shifted to face

him.“Sohaveyouearnedtherighttobecalledaman?”“Notyet.”“IsthatwhyyoujoinedtheSonsoftheWest?”Itwasthewrongquestion.Asternlookenteredhiseyes.“I joinedthe

SonsoftheWestbecausethisispartofourhome,”hesaid,hischinraised.“Itbelongstothepeople;itcan’tbegivenuptotheSuzerain.”

Hastilybacktracking,Itriedtolightenthemood.“Putsmyproblemsincontext.Whatcollegetogoto.Whattoweartoprom.”

“Thedance?”askedSol.“I have a hot date,” I replied, hoping he’d catch the flippancy inmy

tone.Itdidn’tfeellikeabalancedexchangeofinformation.Soltalksaboutfightingforhiscountry,andallIcouldcomeupwithwasprom.Iwasn’tevensurewhyI’dmentionedit.MaybejusttoremindmyselfthatmylifeinCrownsvillewasreal.“Andy,”Isaid.“He’sareallyniceguy.”

Sol’sgazeagainfixedonme.“Andlucky,too,”hesaid,quietly.There’s thatmoment when a guy says something random, like Andy

offeringtotakeJaytothecages,thatdrivesyoutospendhoursanalyzingeveryword—Didhesayitlikethis,ordidhesayitlikethat?Didhemeanthis,ordidhemeanthat?Thensomehowyoubreakthecodeandyouthinkmaybe,maybe, that guy you’d been dreaming aboutmight actually likeyou,too.ThatwashowIfeltrightthen.

“Iwanttoshowyousomething,”saidSol.Hegottohisfeetandofferedmehishand.

Stilldissectinghispreviouscomment,Itookhishand,andtogetherwewanderedtotheedgeofthepaddockwheretheriverflowedbeyondthepond.

“Theriver’scalledtheRitter,”hesaid,pointingtothebabblingwater.“It comes from themountains, feeds the valley, or used to. All of this,from the Ridge to the western ocean, is Brakaland, the greatest of thisworld’skingdoms.Tothenorth,Hillsvale.Intheeast,Roul.Tothesouth,Valaray.ThenovertheoceanliesBalia,theislandwheretheBarrierwascreated and where the Solenetta was made. The Balians are keepers ofmagicandlegendwhonurturetheenergyfromwhichtheysayallmagicflows. The people therewon’t join this fight. They fought in theGreatWaragainstEliasanditdidn’tgowellforthem.Sotheyremainisolated,knowing that if the Suzerain opens the Barrier and Brakaland falls, theotherkingdomswilltoppleonebyoneandtheycouldbeallthatremains

ofthisworld.”I stared into the distance, imagining kingdoms and countries, worlds

continuingonforever.“AndbeyondBalia?”Iuttered.“BeyondBaliaareplacesfewofushaveeverseen,”saidSol.“Thereare

morekingdomsoutthere,butwhattheysuffer,Idonotknow.”“And then there are worlds within worlds,” I said. “Like the demons

breakingthroughtheWarnonMines?”“Therearenolimits.”“It’s like learninghistoryallover again,” I said, almostmesmerizedby

hiswords.“Itcouldtakealifetimetoknoweverythingaboutthisplace.”“Several.Tendays’walkfromhereliestheFallsofVerderaywherethe

waterflowstruegreenintoalakeofthesamecolor,andwhenitrains,thedropletsbreakonthelake’ssurfacelikeemeraldsthathavefallenfromthesky.”

Sol’senergyroseashespoke,hisloveforthisworldclearineveryword.Atinypartofmeswoonedashisrichvoicecarriedmealongfortheride.Iimaginedustogether,swimmingingreenwaterwithemeraldrainfallingallaroundus.

“To the north is Byron’s Garden,” he continued. “Byron’s a FloraDemonwho’sbeenheresincethebeginningoftheworld.Heneverleaveshis garden, and no other demon can set foot there. It’s supposed to beamazing.You see creatures andplants that canbe foundnowhere else.”He paused, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Sadness returned to his face.“Word from yourworld is that a power plant is plannedwhere Byron’sGardengrows.TheBarriercan’tabsorb something like that. It’ll giveuponthegardentosavewhatitcanaroundit.It’llbegone.”

Themagicaltalehe’dspunvanishedlikesmokeinthebreeze.Allofit—Byron’sGarden,theFallsofVerderay—gone.

“ThentheTreatyofRoihastowork,”Isaid.“Yes.”“Andifitdoesn’t?”Hepaused,thenplayfullyelbowedmysideasheloweredhislipstomy

ear. “Then we’ll have to wipe you off the face of the planet,” hewhispered.

“Funny,” I said, as he pulled away grinning. “Sowe’re back to squareone.Whatdoyoubelieve?”

“I believe that the treatywillwork,” he said, once again serious. “We

mustdoeverything inourpowertomake itwork. It’s timefor the linesbetweentheworldstobedrawnonceandforall,andfortheBarriertobesealedforever.Mia,it’sbetteriftheworldsremainstrangerstoeachother.We’retoodifferenttomix.”

AftereverythingI’dseen,Ikindofagreed.“It’slikeapoemwereadinschool,” I said. “Oh,East isEast,andWest isWest,andnever the twainshallmeet.”IwassurprisedthatI’dsaidit—merecitingpoetrytoSol.ButI knew what I was trying to say. Sol was from here, I was fromCrownsville, and therewas nothing couldbe done about it. “Kipling, orsomeone,” I added, and shrugged off my intensity with a smile. “I canneverremember.”

“Maybeheknewthisworldtoo,”saidSol.“Maybehedid.”I tooka final lookaround, thennoticedDelaneontheporch. Ididn’t

knowhowlonghe’dbeenthere;buthewatcheduswiththatsamestrangelookhe’d had last night. Standing so close to Sol, Iwondered ifDelanehad seenus hand in hand, andwished I didn’t feel like I’d been caughtdoingsomethingIshouldn’t.

“Delane’sup,”Iannounced,andSolturnedtosee.“Atlast,”hesaid,andwithoutasecond’shesitation,hewasstridingfor

thehouse.I lingered a second longer, watching as he headed for Delane,

wonderingifthetimewe’djustspenttogethermeantasmuchtoSolasithadtome.Idoubtedit.

“Mia, come on,” he called back, energized to be leaving. “It’s time tomove.”

*

Fromthebackofourhorse,Itookafinallookatthehouse.Thedamagethe demons hadwrought to the roofwas clear from a distance.Ahugeholespannedseveraloftheboards.Wewereluckytobealive.

In our hurry to get to Orion, we were kind of leaving a mess. MyblanketremainedwhereI’dleftitonthestep,thekitchentablestillsatonthe grass outside.My gaze scanned the upper floor, then paused at thecobweb-filledwindow.Icouldn’thelpbutthinkthatbehindit,spidereyesstaredback.

Notyetmounted,Delanestrungourpackstoourhorse’sside.“What,

inthenameofthestars,doyouhaveinhere?”“Inwhat?”Iasked.“Inthispack!”Oh,that.I’dmadeaquicksweepofthegroundfloorbeforewe’dleft

thehouse.Therewasplentyof stuffwecoulduse:acoupleofblankets,someragsfromthekitchen(forbathroombreaks),aswitchbladeI’dfoundinacupboard...

“We got caught off guard a couple of times yesterday,” I replied,casually.“It’sjustincase.”

Delane muttered something I didn’t catch, maybe about defensemechanisms and garbage. After securing the bulging pack, he jumpedaboard.

Not long after leaving the house, we entered the town of Narlow.Delane toldme it had long been a trading post betweenOrion and thevalley.

“Wecan’tstop,”saidSol.“Notifwe’retocutoffMalone’sgang.”The horses’ steps echoed off the cobbled streets. As in Bordertown,

therewerescarsfrombattle.ButunlikemyfirstviewofBrakaland,therewas something light andwholesome aboutNarlow. Flowers grew in theovergrown yards, pretty drapes hung atwindows.More a village than atown, itwaseasyto imaginetheplacefilledwithworkersandfamilies. Ipicturedkids,excitedtobeoffthefarms,runninglikecrazythroughthestreets,justlikethekidsdidonSaturdaymorningsinCrownsville.

“That’stheGatheringHall,”saidDelane.Hepointedtoastonebuildingtoourright.Widestepsledtoheavydoubledoors,whichhadfallenfromtheir hinges. “It’s where the villagers made their last stand against thedemonsandwheremostofthosewhodiedwerekilled.”

I gazed into the blackness beyond those doors andwondered if theirbodieswerestill inside.Whowouldretrievethem?Theydidn’thavetheUNor theRedCross or anyonewho swept intowar zones to clean upotherfolks’messes.Iguessedthebodiesstayedwheretheylayuntilonlybonesremained,liketheboneswe’dseenonenteringthevalley.

“The survivors finally evacuated,” saidDelane. “They headed into theforesttoMaslian’sCaveswheretheywaitedthreeweekstoberescued.”

Threeweeks!Hadmyfathernotabandonedme,howeasilyIcouldhavebeenwiththem.“Theremustbesomethingthatcanbedonetobringthisplaceback.”

“Thereis,”repliedSol.“CastouttheSuzerainandsendhimtohellwiththedemons.”

Itwasatouchambitiousformywatch.RescuingJayandtheSolenettawouldhavetosuffice.

Acoupleofhourslater,atallstoneobelisk,likesomethingfromRomeorAncientEgypt,appearedonthesideoftheroad.

“That’sit,”saidDelane.“We’vemadeitoutofthevalley.”The trees andbrush soon cleared.Wider roads joinedours.And then

people appeared. Awoman, likeWillie’s double from Bordertownwithspinesonherarms,satonaboulderattheedgeoftheroadandwatchedaswepassed.Itwasbothstrangeandreassuringtoseeotherpeopleagain.Itwaseasyinthevalleytofeelliketheonlythreealive.

“We’re close to Orion,” said Sol, pointing to a gang of Runnersrecognizable by their jeans and jackets. Some had the look just right.Others? Not somuch. Like the guy in sweat pants and a suit jacket. Iwasn’tsurehe’deverseenacopyofVogue.ButtheRunnershadonethingin common: They all looked human. I guess the Brakaland folk knewenoughabouttheOtherSidetoknowthatgreenscalesweredefinitelylastseason.

Solstoppedonthepeakofariseintheroad.Wedrewupalongsideandlooked down into a gap between the hills. And there it was, like themagicalcitySolhadspokenofearlier.Orion.

NINETEEN

I don’t know what I’d expected, but this wasn’t it. Orion was a city

surroundedbyagreatwhitewall.Fromthehighpeakonwhichwestood,thousandsofrooftopswerevisiblewithsmokerisingfromchimneys.Theinfamous Gates of Orion were beneath us, barred, wrought ironbarricades, theheightof thewall.Guardsblocked theentrance.But theguardsweren’tsentinelsandthat,Isupposed,wasagoodthing.

Atthefaredgeofthecitystoodaspectacularstructureaswhiteasthecity walls, and as wide as the whole of Orion. It was built on severalterraces, its upper levels higher than the rooftops of the houses below.Eightorninetowerssoaredabovetheterraces.Nowindowsadornedthetowers but, from a distance, I could clearly make out the steps thatspiraled the towers’ outer walls from base to tip. I wasn’t sure whatpurpose the stairs served. Security? If nothing else, they offered anyonefoolenoughtoclimbthemaviewrightacrosstheBrakalandPlains.

ItwasOrion’spalace,Iguessed.Iguessedsomethingelse,too.“That’swherethey’vegotJay.”

“It’stheVelanhall,”saidSol,catchingmycomment.“ItoncehousedtheAldermanCouncilofthePlains.TheSuzerainhastakenitover.Hehasnorighttobethere.”

Andneitherdidwe.Yetsomehowwehadtofindawayin.“Sowhatdowedo?”Iasked.“Thegateslookheavilyguarded.”“I’ll go see if there’s any trace of Malone’s men,” replied Sol. “Wait

here.Thisshouldn’ttakelong.”I dismounted, glad to give both our horse andmybutt awell-earned

break. Sol disappeared from view and therewas nothing else to do but

watch theVelanhall’sominous towers. Jaywas soclose,yethemightaswellhavebeenontheoppositeendoftheearth.

Delanehaddismounted.Headjusted thepacksonourhorse. “You’rewastingyourtime,youknow,”hesaid.

Certain I’d heard him right, but having no clue what he meant, Ishrugged.“Sorry,what?”

“Solandun,”hesaid.Hecontinuedtofiddlewiththepacksasiftoavoidmygaze.“Thetwoofyoutogetherwouldn’tworkout.”

Ididn’tneedamirrortoknowIlookedstunned.Iimmediatelyturnedmy back to him. Call it ego preservation. “I don’t know what you’retalkingabout,”Imuttered.

“I’mprettysureyoudo.”Hecametomyside,close—tooclosewhenallIwantedwastohidemy

faceandpretendthisconversationwasn’thappening.“You’rereallynice,Mia,”hesaid.“I’dhatetoseeyoudisappointed.”There’saplaybookWillieandIhaddevisedformomentssuchasthis.It

containedonetactic:denyeverything.I feigned a laugh. “Delane, you’re way off base. Sol? Come on.

Seriously?”“I’veseenyou,”saidDelane.“Seenmewhat?”Iasked.“Ineedhimtohelpmegetmybrotherback.

That isall.” I foldedmyarms,whichfelttoodefensive,soI forcedthembacktomyside.

Delane lookeddowntowardthegates. Ididn’tdarefollowhisgaze incase I caught sight of Sol and further betrayedmy feelings.Betrayedmyfeelings?WhatwasIeventhinkingabout?Itwasn’tasiftherewasanythingbetweenus.WhatSolhadsaidaboutAndybeinglucky?Hewasjustbeingnice.ButI’dlatchedontoitlikeafool.Wheretherecouldbenohope,I’dlethopegrow.

“Mia...”“What?”Isaid,attemptinganotherlaugh.“Seriously,Delane.You’ve—”“Made amistake?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable. “Then youwon’t

mindifItellyousomething.”“Tellmewhat?”Iasked,notsureIwantedtohearwhathehadtosay.“I’veknownSolandunallmylife,”saidDelane.“Iknowwhathislifein

theWestislike.”“Andwhatisitlike?”

“It’sdifferent,”he replied. “Therehavebeen lotsof girls inhispast—girlswho’vecomeandgone.He’snotlookingtogettieddowntoanyone,especiallysomeonefromtheOtherSide.Mia,Solandunonlythinksaboutdefeating theSuzerain, securing the treaty,andhaving theBarrier sealedforever.”

Andthereitwasagain.TheBarrier.Meononeside.Solontheother.“Mia, Solandun crossed the Barrier to protect the Ridge and to stop

themfromtakingtheboys.Therewasnootherreason.”Whetherheknewitornot,hemayaswellhavepunchedmeinthegut.

Itwouldhavehurt less. “Yeah,” Isaid,andthistimeIdidfoldmyarms.“Buthedidn’tdoaverygoodjobofit,didhe?”

*

SolreturnedtofindmeononesideoftheroadandDelaneontheother.We’dbeenthatwayfor—Idon’tknow—twentyminutes?Aseachminutehadpassed,I’dsunkdeeperanddeeperintoablackmoodIcouldn’tshakeoff.

“How’ditgo?”IaskedSolascasuallyasIcould,awareofhowDelanemightmisinterpreteverywordorgesture.

“Better than we could have hoped,” Sol replied. “Malone’s men arealreadyhere.AgangfromFortkneesawthempassaboutanhourago.”

“Andhow’sthatbetterthanwehoped?”askedDelane.“BecausetheSuzerainisn’there,”saidSol.“Andhewon’treturnuntil

tomorrow.”“Thenwe’vegottime.”Sol nodded. “Malone’s gang will have to wait to hand over the

Solenetta.”Hetookadeepbreath.“Butthereisaproblem.”“Onlyone?”Iasked.ThisbeingBrakaland,Ihighlydoubteditwouldbe

asmallone.“Fornow,”saidSol. “I’vebeentalkingwithsomeRunnersat thegate.

TheysayMalone’smessengertoldtheguardsthatagroupofthreeescapedtheBordertownsentinelsandcouldbeheadingthisway.Theguardsandthegangarelookingoutforus.”

Thatwasabigproblem.“Isn’tthereanotherwayin?”Iasked.“Thereareothergates,butthey’reequallyrisky.That’swhyIwantedto

arriveherefirst.It’sthereasonwecutthroughthevalley.Itwillallbefornothingifwe’rearrestedatthegates.”

I stared at the towers andmy resolve stirred.Mooning overDelane’swarningswouldn’t get Jayor theSolenettaback.Soon thiswould all beover,andwhatwoulditmatterhowIfeltaboutSolwhenIwasbackontheOtherSide?WhathadDelanesaid?Girlscomeandgo.Brotherswereforever.That’swhenIcameupwithmyplan.

“Thenweshouldsplitup,”Isaid.“They’relookingforapartyofthree.We’llgoinonebyone.”

“Andhowdoyouintendtogetpastthoseguards?”askedDelane.A small group in jeans and jackets and sweatpants passed us on the

road.“Orion’satradingpost,right?It’sfullofRunners.”“Goon,”saidDelane.“Thenweplaytomystrengths.It’saRunner’s jobtoknowtheOther

Side.AndwhohereknowstheOtherSidebetterthanme?”“It’s risky,” saidDelane, once I’d filled them in on the details ofmy

plan.“It’sperfect,”Ireplied.“It’llwork.”Foronce,Solwasonmyside.“WaitforusoutsideMorningstarStables.

It’soppositethegates;youcan’tmissit.Hugeyellowsign.”“MorningstarStables,”Isaid,withanod.“Don’ttalktoanyonebuttheguards.Wedon’twanttopushourluck.

Take this, too,” he added. He handed me a squishy Snickers from hispocket. “Itmightworkon theguard ifhegets testy.Andtakecare.”Heplacedhishandsonmyshouldersandsqueezed.“Please.”

Ididn’twantSol to letgo.But Ihadapoint tomaketoDelane:MiaStonewasinBrakalandtorescueherbrother,nottomopeoversomeguy.

“Okay,”Isaid,andreachedformypack.“Nowturnaround.Ineedtochange.”

Iadmit,myplanwasgenius.Thatitalsomeantdumpingthedresswaslikethedoublechocolatefrosting.ButIwasnervous.Verynervous.Thiswas the first time I’d be alone in Brakaland, and success hinged onmyperformance.Stumble,andtheaudiencewouldn’tpeltrottenfruit,they’dclapmeinirons.IranthrougheverythingSolandDelanehadtoldme.Becalm.Stayrelaxed.Actlikeyoubelonghere.

I walked the road to the gate, just little oldme among the gangs ofseasonedRunners.IknewSolandDelanewatchedbutIresistedtheurgeto check back. They were alone and it was a perfect opportunity forDelanetotellSolthathesuspectedIhadfeelingsforhim.Itdidn’tease

mynerves.The closer I got to the gates, the less I thought my plan a work of

genius.Therewerenosentinels,buttheguards,thoughsmartlydressedinuniformsofgray,appeared little friendlier thantheirbrutishBordertowncounterparts.I’dalreadyseenthemturntwopeopleback.

“Next.”Twoguysapproachedthegates.Icouldhearlittleoftheirconversation

beyondthenoisethatrangfromOrion.Itwasbusyinthere,muchbusierthan Bordertown. Though the streets were partially visible beyond thegates,Icouldn’tyetseethestables.But,boy,hadItakenCrowley’sadviceto heart. I trusted Sol without question. The stables would be there. IprayedthatIcouldfindthem.

“Next.”That meant me. I approached the guard, a lanky character of about

Pete’sage.“Name.”“Poppy Fellows,” I said. It had been Sol’s idea. I wondered if Poppy

mighthavebeenoneofthegirlswho’d“comeandgone.”“Whereyouheaded?”“Rickter’s,” I replied, like itwas themost natural thing in theworld.

“Gotsomethingforhimtosee.”Theguard’seyesnarrowed.“AreyouaRunner?Youtalkfunny.”Okay.We’dpreppedforthisone.“IspendalotoftimeontheOther

Side,”Isaid,tryingnottosoundasifIreadfromascript.Hewas suspicious, I knew it. Time for PlanB. I tookmy cell phone

from my jacket pocket and flashed it at the guard. His mannerimmediatelyswitched.“Ihaven’tseenoneofthoseforawhile.”

“It’s a good one too,” I said, doing my best QVC demonstration.“Normally Iwouldn’t come thisway, but I heardRickter’s been gettingthesetowork.Worthtwentytimesmore,then.”

He eyedmy crappy old phone as if itwere a Rolexwatch.Moron. Imean,itwasn’tevenasmartphone!

“AreyoufromBordertown?”“Fortknee.”AnotherofSol’s lies.“Bordertown’sfloodedwithRunners.

I’drathersellmystuffwithoutDuddonMalonefleecingtheprofits.”Theguardsnorted.“We’vehadmoreofhislotalreadytoday.”“Well,theywon’tgettheirhandsonthis.”Isnappedthehandsetshut.

The guard stepped back. Orion beckoned. “Letme know if they getthatthingtowork.I’veneverseenonethatactuallydoes.”

Ididn’thangaroundlongenoughfortheguytohavesecondthoughtsaboutPoppytheRunnerandherbustedcellphone;theprioritywastogetoutofhissightandreachthestables.Only, it lookedas if thatmightbeeasiersaidthandone.

I’d emerged onto a fan-shaped concourse, about half the area of afootball field, constructed of sand-colored flagstones,which radiated outfromthegates.OneithersideloomedOrion’scurvedwhitewalls,thoughthecurvedidn’tseemaspronouncedfromtheinside.Alineofshopsandstoreshadbeenbuiltinthewall’sshadow,crookedlittleplaceswithroofsofdifferentheights.Atfirstglance,Isawapotteryshop,adressstore,andwhathadtobeabutcher,judgingbythecarcasshanginginthewindow.

Traders,withmulticolored awnings above their carts and stalls, filledthe concourse. Their cries rang as they hustled their wares. Someone,somewhere,was grilling, the scent amixture of bacon andbeef.HavingeatenonlySnickerssinceI’dleftCrownsville,mystomachgrowled.

I headed toward a cluster of buildings with narrow streets betweenthem.Each street I passedwas different.One, barely ten feetwide, ranlongandstraightwithrowsofthree-storytownhousesoneitherside,eachpainted a different color—lemon, lilac, sky blue, peach. The next streetwas covered by a sandstone roof, and beyond the arched entryway, thedimtunnelinsidewaslitbyflickeringlanterns.Agreenandwhitemosaicpavedanotherstreet.

Therewasnosignofthestables,soIcutbacktowardthecenterofthemarket,dodgingtradersandtheircustomers,recognizingsomeasracesI’dseeninBordertown.

I pushed on, only the tops of the gates visible behind me, when acouplepassedonhorseback.Ifollowedthemtoawidearchbetweentwowhitebuildings.Astraw-strewncourtyardlaybeyond.Ayellowsignhungfromthearchway:MorningstarStables.Bingo.

Alongsidethestablesranawideroad.Atoneendoftheroadwerethegates,attheother,theVelanhall.Istopped.Evenfromadistanceofabouttwenty blocks, its towers loomed over Orion. I wished Jay knew I wascomingforhim.

“Onehurdleatatime,Mia.”I stifledascream.Solhadcreptupbehindme,hishorseathisside. I

studied his face, praying Delane hadn’t told him that the girl fromCrownsvillemight be harboring a secret crush. Tomy relief, Sol didn’tlooklikeheknew.

“Ican’tstopthinkingabouthimupthere,”Isaid.“IfeellikeIshouldbedoingsomething.”

“Youare,” saidSol. “More thanmosteverwould.”He turnedback tohishorseandwithdrewmyswordfromhispack.“Youforgotthis.”

Itookit,usedtotheweight,thoughitstillfeltclunkyinmyhands.“It’sprobablytimeIgaveuppretendingIcanusethis,”Isaid,andhandedbackthesword.“We’renotdestinedtobetogether.”

OurhandstouchedandI realizedhowpropheticmystatementwas. Iheldon formaybe a second too longbefore releasing the sword toSol’ssteadyhand.

Notdestinedtobetogether?Willielovedsymbolicmoments.Thisonesucked.

*

Weheadeddeep intoOrion, on the east sideof town. I kept an eyeonDelane,who’dyet tospeakawordtomesincewe’dregrouped. Ididn’twantbadbloodbetweenus.I’dneverbeenonetoholdagrudge.Itwasn’this fault that he’d noticed the feelings I thought I’d hidden.He’d beendoing me a favor, really, warning me off Sol. A favor my rational selfcompletelyunderstood,evenifmystupidhormonesdidn’twanttohearit.

But our earlier conversation didn’t seem to be on his mind as wewandered Orion’s back streets. Delane straightened his shirt about fivetimes.When he ducked to catch his reflection in a window, I couldn’thelpbutask,“Areyoucheckingyourhair?”

Hecouldn’thavethoughtIwouldn’tnotice.“What?No.”Solglancedbackandsmiled.Really,Icouldn’tletthispass.“Youare,”I

teased.“You’refussingwithyourhair.”“No.”Hestopped,andthenshrugged.“ButhowdoIlook?”“Likeaguywhospentanightontheroad,”Ireplied,confused.“Don’t

thinkyoucanchangethatnow.”“Doesn’thurttotry.”But whatever it was Delane preened for, he’d run out of time. Sol

stopped at a door in the middle of a terrace of town houses. Heunstrappedhispackandrummagedinside.

“Whatisthisplace?”Iasked.Thehousewasconstructedfromdarkgraystoneandstoodthreestoriestall.Tinywindows,embellishedwithstained-glassinlaysofplantsandflowers,pepperedthefront.

“It’shometoamemberoftheSonsoftheWest,”saidSol.“Weuseitwheneverwe’reinOrion.”

Hetookfromhispackawhiteovaldisc,whichheplacedintoarecessbesidethedoor,thencoveredwithbothhishands.Click.Aseasilyasthat,wewere inside. I followedSolandDelane,happy for themtoprovideabufferforwhatevershockmightcomenext.

Inside,thehousewasnothinglikeRip’s.Infact,itwaslikenothingI’dseeninBrakaland.Weenteredahallwaywhereelaboratelyframedmirrorshung over swathes of purple gossamer fabric. A floral scent carriedthrough the air, rose or lavender, heady and sweet. To the left was astaircaseilluminatedbycandles,whichsatonledges.

IhungbackwithDelane,butSolstrodetoacloseddoorattheendofthehall, andwithoutknocking, entereda second room.A light,breathysquealfollowed.

“Guess she’shome,” saidDelane,withagrinwider thantheCheshireCat’s.“GetreadytomeetVermillionBlue.”

Intrigued, I followed to the next room. Stronger floral scents floatedthroughthedoorway.Thereweremorebreathysqueals.Isteppedinside.

Andthenmyjawjustabouthittheground.

TWENTY

VermillionBluedidn’tlookmuchlikeaSonoftheWesttome.

She was supermodel tall and blessed with the kind of curves usuallyreserved for the calendars that hung atReggieWest’sMotorRepair andSalvage.Andshewasblue.Well,asilverygray,whichcaughtthelightandwasas flawless as anairbrusher’sdream.Scarlethair, lustrous and thick,tumbled to her waist. It shone like nothing I’d ever seen. If VermillionBlueeversetfoot intheStates,she’dgetonehellofa lucrativecontractwithPantene.

Shewasdressedfromheadtotoeinwhite,allsixfootwhateverofher.Herdresswassheer,yetsomehowmanagedtocoverwhatitwassupposedto. I’dnever seen suchperfect features.Full lips.Straightnose.Andhereyes?Asgorgeousasherskinandframedwithscarletlashes.

ItsoundslikeI’mmakingabigdealaboutthis.MaybeIam.Buthere’sthething:VermillionBluewaswrappedaroundSollikecottoncandyonastick, andSoldidn’t seemtoo sorry tobe in thatpredicament.Her longarms squeezedhis shoulders likeaboaconstrictordancingwith itsprey,heramblechestcrushinghis.Andshewaskissinghim.Onthemouth!Asifthewholeworldwasn’tstandingatthedoorandwatching.

Suddenly,Ifeltveryplain.Veryplainandveryboring.“IthoughtheonlycaredaboutdefeatingtheSuzerain,”Imuttered.Delanecaughtmycomment.Heleanedintomyear.“Vermillion’san

exceptiontomostrules.”Apparentlyso.Vermillion released Sol from her clutches and then, much to his

delight,itwasDelane’sturn.I tracked Sol’s path as hemoved to the side of the room.He didn’t

appear any worse for the encounter, nor did he appear shocked thatVermillionwassqueezingthelifeoutofDelane,too.Whatawelcome.Iguesstheyreallydiddothingsdifferentlyoverhere.

Thenitwasmyturn.Iwasn’t going tohugher.Seriously, Iwasnot going tohavemy face

mashedagainstthatchest.Sheapproachedlikeafigureskater,allglidingandelegant,lookingdownonmefromupthereonBlueMountain.Iputoutmyhand.

“MiaStone,”Isaid.That threw her. She hesitated, looked back at Delane, and then

tentativelyofferedmeherhand.“Vermillion,”shesaid,hervoiceclearandlight.

“Goodtomeetyou,”Irepliedhastily,andshook.It was only when she’d stepped away that I noticed the room;

Vermillion had a knack for eclipsing most things around her. It was akitchen, much like the kitchen at my father’s house, with a table andbenches, a range, and a row of low wooden cabinets, though the wallswerepaintedpaleblueandeverysurfaceheldavasecontainingsomekindofflower.Thereweremirrorseverywhere.IguessVermilliondidn’tliketolosesightofherselfevenwhencooking.Whocouldblameher?

“Youhave to tellmeeverything,” she said,watchingmeas if Imightchangemymindanddecidetojointhelovefest.OnceitwasclearthatIwouldn’tyield,sheturnedherattentionbacktotheguys.“Ididn’texpectto see you so soon. Solandun, the last I heard you were on the OtherSide.”

“Iwas,”saidSol,stillsafelyoutofherreach.“It’salongstory.WecamethroughthevalleyfromBordertown.”

Vermillionagainglancedatme.“Thevalley?Butwhy?”“It’stheSolenetta,”saidSol.VermillionspunbacktoSol,andthedraftfromherhairwaftedacross

myface.“It’shere,”hesaid.“It’sback.”Forallher“faults,”Vermillionwasagoodlistener.Aswesataroundthe

tableandtalked,sheneveronceinterruptedSol’stale.“Ineverexpectedthis,”shesaid,onceSolhadfinished.“IftheSolenetta

landsintheSuzerain’shandsthenwarcouldquicklyfollow.”“That’swhywehavetogetitback.”“Andwewill,”shesaid.“Wemust.ButI’mshocked.Nowordofthese

eventsreachedme.”“Therewasnotime,”saidSol.“WebarelyescapedfromRip’sbeforethe

sentinels were on us. But the guardsmen will know by now—Malone’smenwillhaveseentothat.Canyouhelpus?”

“Helpyou?”sheasked,tossingherhairinacascadeofscarlettresses.“IwouldcrawlnakedacrosstheWastestoruinthatmonster’splans.”

Sol smiled. “We’d settle for knowingwhich safe houseMalone’smenareusing.”

“Thatshouldn’tbedifficult,”shereplied.Sheroselikeapre-Raphaelitevision bursting into life. “Now take some rest.Get cleaned up. I’ll havenewsforyouwithinthehour.”

*

Getcleanedup.I had to concedeVermillion that point. Stringy didn’t come close to

describing my hair. I hadn’t been near a toothbrush in two days.Vermillion was all fresh and larger than life. Me? I looked like agutterscamp.IwasprettysureIstanklikeonetoo.

Iwasgivenaroomonthetopfloor,homelierthantheoneatRip’s,butclearof the chaos and clutterofmyown room inCrownsville.Thebedwas waist high, with a pillow top that screamed to be slept on, and acomforterincrisp,brightlemon.

Anhourago,Iwouldhavewelcomedanice,comfybed,butIwasstillkindofsulkingaboutseeingSolinVermillion’sarms.WhyhadIthoughtthe Sons of theWestwould be a bunch of guys likeRip andOldManCrowley?NowonderDelanehadwarnedme.He’dknownwhowaitedtowelcomeSolbacktoOrion.

I flung open the closet where Delane had promised I’d find cleanclothes. An entire wardrobe hung inside, everything from the grayuniforms I’d seen on the gate guards to flowing gowns of lavender andgreen—Vermillion’s,nodoubt.Idecidedtostickwithmyjeansandclosedthedoor.NopointtryingtocompetewithVermillionBlue.

Thesoundofrunningwaterbroughtmetothewindow.Atinywalledyard laybelowwithagate thatopenedontothealleybehindthehouse.Steam rose from a wooden cubicle tucked in the corner. From theshouldersup,therewasSol.

I’dseenSolwithoutashirtbefore,butcatchinganothersightofhim,IknewtheimageofSolbytheriverthatlivedinmymemorywassimplyashadowofSol in reality.His tannedskinwas tightacrosshis tricepsand

shoulders,soIcouldseetheireverymovementinperfectdefinition.Watercascaded from pipes on the wall. Hopelessly yearning, I thought of theFalls of Verderay and Sol and me swimming in the green water. Onlyhours hadpassed since I’d listened to Sol’s tale on the grass outsidemyfather’shomewithmyhandlockedinhis.Itfeltlikeamillionyears.

Don’tdothis,Mia.Iwasn’tused tohandling this stuffwithoutWillie! It’s abest friend’s

responsibilitytokeepthiskindofdaydreamingincheck.Withouther,mysenselesscrushhadspiraledoutofcontrol.

“I’ve brought towels.” Delane waited at the bedroom doorway witharmsfulloflinen.

Great.Therewasnowayhehadn’tseenmepeepingatSol.“Sotheshower’soutside?”Imumbled,pointingtothewindow,trying

nottoseemlikesomesortofpervert.“Rustic.”“Don’t let Solandun stay out there too long,” Delane replied, as he

enteredtheroom.“He’saninfamoushotwaterthief.”“I’dsettleforabucketofwaterrightnow.Anytemperature.Istink.”Delanelaughed.“I’mprettysurethat’sme.”Helingeredlikealittleoldwomanwithsomethingtosay.Afterbeing

confrontedwithVermillionBlue,Ireallydidn’tthinkIcouldfaceanotherlecture.

“Youlooktired,”hesaid.“Justnervous.WorriedaboutJay.Partofmewantstogoupthere,bang

onthedoor,andtellthemtohandhimover.Notagreatplan.”“We’ll think of something.” He took the linen to the bed, cringing

slightly.“Mia,IwanttoapologizeforwhatIsaidearlier.”“Youdon’thaveto.”Ireallydidn’twanttodwellonSol.Ihadafeeling

itwasn’thealthy.“Delane,itwasnothing.Silly,really.”“It’snotmybusinesswhatyoudowithSolandun.”“We’renotdoinganything,”Isaid,andthinkingofthewayVermillion

Bluehadkissedhim,Imeantit.“Itwasjustthevalley.Wewereallfreakedout.Andthenthere’sJayandtheSolenettaand...”

NobodyhadeverlookedatmethewaythatDelanelookedatmethen.Helookedsorryforme.

Ispunaround,wantingtohidemyface.Only,nowIcouldseeoutside.Solhadlefttheshower.Hestoodintheyard,towelwrappedlowaroundhiships,theLunestralvisibleinallitsglory.Thewaterfromhishairand

shouldersdrippeddownhisback,thesunlightcastinglifeintothedreambird.

Hewasperfecttome.Defeated by my feelings, I reluctantly faced Delane. “It’s me who

should apologize,” I said. “You’re right. I haven’t been able to stopthinkingabouthimsinceIfirstsawhim.”

Delanedidn’treply.“Andit’snotbecauseitcouldneverbe,”Iblurted,notsurewherethe

words were coming from. “He’s different from other guys. He’s socommittedtoeverythinghedoes.Heneverthinksabouthisownsafetytohelpsomeoneelse.Heriskedhislifeforusinthevalley.Twice.”

Istartedtopace,thewordspouringoutofme.“Andhedidn’twanttotellmeaboutmydad,”Icontinued,“buthedid

itanyway,becauseheknewIneededtohear thetruth.AndthewayhelovesBrakaland.Delane,youshouldhaveheardhimtalkingthismorningabout the places here. At home, guys just moan about how everythingsucks and everything’s lame, but they never do anything about it! Sol’sfamily is in theWest, yet Sol’shere, trying to change thisworld for thebetter.HeevencametoCrownsvilletofight.Alone.Ican’tevenimaginewhatthatmusthavebeenlikeforhim.Buthedidit,becauseitwastherightthingtodo.”

I stopped.Delane’seyeswerewide likeaguywho’d justhadabombdroppedonhishead.Imusthavesoundedcrazytohim.Justanothergirlwho’dfallenunderSol’sspell.

“Iguessyou’vehearditallbefore,”Istated,embarrassed.Delane’sshockedexpressionfadedgradually.Heleanedagainstthebed

andletoutadeepbreath.“Actually,”hesaid.“No.”No?“Butallthegirlsyoumentioned...”Itrailedoff.Hebegantosmile.“Mia,thosearen’tthepartsofSolandungirlsusually

focuson.”Isnickered.“Heishot,”Isaid,sheepishly.“DidImentionthat?”Delane faked a look of deep thought. “I’m sure you meant to.” He

stretchedbackon thebed,proppinghimselfuponhiselbows. “Areyougoingtotellhimhowyoufeel?”

“Noway!”Iexclaimed,asIsatonthecomforter.“I’llgetoverhim.Gotnochoice,right?Imean,evenifwedidn’tliveindifferentworlds,he’sstill

gotVermilliondrapedalloverhim.”Delanepulledbackhishead.“YouthinkSolandun’swithVermillion?”“Well,aren’tthey?Itwashardtomissthatgreeting,Delane.”Helaughed,hard.“That’stoofunny.Mia,Vermillion’srarefiedSimbia.

Notoriouslyemotional.Notoriouslyloving.Getmypoint?”IthinkIdid.WehadanameforthattypeinCrownsville,too.“Sothey’renottogether?”“Never.Ever,”hesaid.Thenewsmademefeelslightlybetter.“You’renotgoingtotellhimaboutanyofthis, right?” Iasked.“Sol, I

mean.”“Iwon’tsayaword,”Delanereplied.“AndI’mstillsorryforwhatIsaid

earlier.”“We’rebuddies,Delane,”Isaid,andfloppedontomybackbesidehim.

“Ifyoucan’ttellittomestraight,thennoonecan.”

*

Solhadleftsomehotwater,andafterwashingthevalleyoutofmyhair,Ifeltreadyforanything.IrelinquishedtheshowertoDelane,thenretiredtomyroomtodressand toweldrymyhairasbest Icould.There reallywas something to be said for confessing. I felt lighter—freer.What hadpassedbetweenmeandDelanewouldremainasecret.ItwastimetogetmyheadoutofthecloudsoverSol,andfocusonJay.

Ihadn’theardVermillionreturn,butasIleftmyroomIcaughtherandSol’svoicescomingfromthekitchen.Iwentdownstairs.

“...wordofwhathappenedhasreachedtheWest,”saidVermillion,asI approached. “They’ve known for some time. If news of this latestdevelopment reaches them, they might decide it’s time to destroy theSolenetta.”

“WhichiswhywehavetogetitoutofBrakalandbeforetheyfindout,”saidSol.

“You’renottemptedtodestroyityourself?”“No,”Solreplied.“Never.”Thatsurprisedme.ThesecondIgotbacktoCrownsville,Iplannedto

hurl the thing into the river.Well,perhapsnot.But therewasnoway Iwas keeping it, regardless of whether or not Willie thought it was theperfectaccessoryforprom.

Ienteredthekitchentofindthematthetable.Solhadchangedclothes,swappingonegrayshirtforanother.Hishairwasdampfromtheshower.

“The boys are being held in the Velanhall,” said Vermillion. “It’s nosecret.”

“Jay?”Iasked.Vermillionlookeduponhearingmyvoice.Shegesturedformetojoin

them.“Solandunhasbeentellingmeyourstory.”“Hasanyoneseentheboys?”Iasked.“Periodically.They’vebeentakingthemtotheNonskyFault.”IslidontothebenchbesideSol.“Where’sthat?”“It’saBarrierweakness,”Solreplied,“lessthanamilefromhere.”“They’re planning something up there,” said Vermillion. “There’s a

campofsentinels.They’vebeentakingtheboys.”“Youthinktheyhavesolens?”askedSol.“Whatusewouldtheybewithoutsomeonetousethem?”Ididn’tunderstand.“Can’tanyoneusethem?”“Notwithoutaspelltocreatethereaction,”Vermillionreplied.“And there’s no spell powerful enough to harness an entire solen’s

power,” Iadded. “Other thantheSolenetta.” I smiledatSol. “See? Ipayattention.”

“Whatever they’re doing isn’t working,” continued Vermillion. “TheybringtheboysbacktotheVelanhallacoupleofdayslaterandthennoonereturns to the fault for weeks. Another caravan left the city yesterday,headingfortheencampment.”

“Withtheboys?”“We don’t know. The wagons were covered and the spies we sent

haven’tyetseenanychildren.Butwhateverthey’redoing,they’remakingready for another attempt, probably to open the Barrier. And now theSuzerainreturns.Coincidence?”

“Unlikely,”saidSol.“IheardarumorthatanewboyarrivedrecentlyandthatheisBalian.”

Vermillionglancedpointedlyatme.“Iamguessingthatisyourbrother.IsensedBaliawhenyouarrivedhere.”

“Myfather’sfromBrakaland,”Isaid.“Idon’tknowaboutBalia.”“Then maybe they know something we don’t. Maybe they really do

have solens and they think this boy is their shot at an Equinox. ButwithouttheSolenettaitcouldneverbeatrueandlastingreaction.”

“Butwhatdoesanyofthatmean?”“Itmeans they’regoing tobehugelydisappointed,” saidSol.Then, to

Vermillion,“SoMalone’susingthesafehouseonMaslian’sSquare?”“Yes.Isawthreeofhismenthere;Idon’tknowhowmanymorethere

are.Tomorrow therewill be aparade inhonorof theSuzerain’s return.YouknowthetypeofmenMalonehires.Theyenjoyadrinkortwo.Therewillbeparties for theparadeallover town. I’msure they’dhappily jointhefestivitiesgiventherightpersuasion.Thatwouldgiveyouachancetoslip in.Until then,you’dneedanarmytopenetratetheirdefenses. It’sawindow, Solandun. A narrow window, I grant you, and not foolproof.SomeofMalone’smenwillundoubtedlyremaintoguardtheirprize.Butfor sure, as soon as theSuzerain is settled andgranting audiences at theVelanhall,they’llbeuptheretomaketheirtrade.”

“Thenmaybewehaveaplan,”saidSol.“I’mgoingtogoupthereandsniffaround.”Heturnedtome.“Wanttocome?”

AndgethimoutofVermillion’shair?Itwasaneasydecision.“Thisisn’tanotheroneofyourcrazymissions,isit?”Iasked.

Sol’seyeswidenedinmockoutrage.“Justastroll!”hesaid.“Ipromise.Notrouble.”

TWENTY-ONE

Iknew itwasMalone’splaceas soonas I sawtheeyepaintedabove the

door.ItgavemethesamecreepyfeelingasthetattooonMalone’shand.“Doyouseeit?”Iasked.

“Iseeit,”saidSol.“Weneedtobecareful.”He lowered his head aswe passed the hideout, awide gray building,

oneofmanythatedgedMaslian’sSquare.Therewasnosignofactivityonourfirstpass.Thegroundfloorwindowswereshutteredandtheeyewastheonlysignoflife.“Canitseeus?”Iwhispered.

“Bestnottofindout.”“Thenwecan’tgointhroughthefronttomorrow.”“Probablynotagoodideaanyway,”saidSol.“It’sbusyaroundhere.”Maslian’s Squarewas smaller than the concourse insideOrion’s gates,

butitwasnolesspopulated.Hundredsofwindowsoverlookedthesquare.No doubt they’d be filled with spectators—witnesses—during theSuzerain’s parade. Preparations were already underway. Sentinelspatrolled, pushing back stall holders and erecting barriers along a route,whichcut through the squareandcontinuedon to theVelanhall. Itwasheavilyguardedchaosinthemaking.

“Let’scheckoutback,”saidSol.Therearwaslittlebetter.Malone’shideoutbackedontoalong,stuffy

alley that reeked of garbage. The rear windows were shuttered, too, sothere was no peeking inside. There was one door, which Sol discreetlycheckedtofinditlocked,butnoeye.

“There’s one of those things by the door like atVermillion’s,” I said,picturingtheovaldiscSolhadusedtoenterthesafehouse.

“It’sabondkey.”Hecheckedthelengthofthealley.Allclear.“Anychanceyourkeywouldfit?Theylookaboutthesamesize.”“It’s not that kind of a key,” he said. “It’s a spell. Theywere popular

beforethePurge.”I tookanother lookat theshallowrecessasweagainpassedthedoor.

“Anychancewecouldfindakeytofit?”“Notmanypeoplecanmakebondkeys thesedays,”Sol repliedaswe

headedbacktothestreet.“Besides,there’snowaytoreplicatethespellinthelock.Bondkeysusebloodrites.”

“Bloodrites?”Iblurted.“Likerealblood?”It was a relief to be back onto the square where the air was fresh.

Shamewehadtobetalkingaboutblood.“Bloodwasoftenusedinspells,”saidSol,asif itwasthemostnormal

thing in the world. “It was a way to link an object of value to anindividual.”

He ledus toabenchontheoppositesideof thesquare, safelyoutofsight of Malone’s eye. Once seated, he took Vermillion’s key from hispocket.“There’sbloodencasedinside,”hesaid.

I’dthoughtabouttouchingit,thenIchangedmymind.“Yourblood?”“That’sright.ThelockatVermillion’sknowsit’sthebloodofafriend.

If it senses the same blood in the hand that uses the key, the lockwillrelease.”

WhateverDelanehadsaidaboutVermillionandSolnotbeingtogether,I’dseenhowVermillionhadgreetedhim.AndSolhadabondkey.Toherhouse.

“Sohowcomeyouhaveone?”Iasked.“You can connect a lock to many keys,” he replied. “As long as it

recognizestheblood,it’llopen.”Itwasn’tquitewhatI’dasked,butSolcouldbetrickywhenhewanted

tobe.“It’sstillgross,”Isaid,lookingaway.“It’ssecure.Someofthestrongestspellseverconjuredusedbloodrites.

You have to knowwhat you’re doing with them, though; they can getmessy.”

Islumpedforward.“You’reafundate,Sol.”Helaughed.“Sorry.Ican’tcompetewithyourprom.”“Insteadof fruitpunch and chaperones, youhave sentinels andvisage

demons.That’shardtotop.”“Idoubtyou’dwanteitherofthoseatthedance.”I wouldn’t haveminded seeing Sol in a tux, though, but thatwasn’t

ever going to happen. The only thing we had to look forward to wasstorming Malone’s hideout and then somehow getting Jay out of theVelanhall.Noorchidcorsagerequiredforthat.

“Justsoyouknow,”Isaid,aftertakinganotherlookattheeye.“Idon’thaveagoodfeelingaboutthisplan.”

Sol turned toward me, surprising me with a penetrating stare. “Andwhy’sthat?”

“Therecouldbedozensoftheminthere.”Iwasdeterminedtokeepmymindonthebusinessathand,whichwasdifficultwhenSollookedatmethatway. “I’m useless in a fight. You can spotVermillion amile away.ThatleavesyouandDelane.”

“Ihopetherewon’tbeafight,”saidSol.“Getin,gettheSolenetta,getout.”

“Whichwecan’tdoiftheplaceispackedwithRunners.”“Idoubttherewillbemorethanafewmeninthere.It’snotMalone’s

style.There’snosafetyinnumbersinOrion.Hereyoulielow,keepyourhead down, otherwise you’re attracting thieves.And this place is full ofthieves.”

“Likeus?”“We’renotstealing,Mia.We’retakingbackwhat’syours.”“Andifwedon’tgetit?”Hepaused.“We’llgetitback.”Butthenwhat?WestillhadtogetJay.Andwhatabouttheotherboys?

We’dhavetomakeittotheRidgeandacrosstoCrownsvillewithoutthewhole of Bordertown noticing. As soon as the Solenetta disappeared,Malonewouldknowitwasus.IftheRidgehadbeenguardedbefore,it’dbeimpenetrablebythetimewereachedBordertown.

IsawtheSolenettainmyhand,picturingmyselfusingittoreopentheBarrier. And then Crownsville. How could I explain where we’d been?What would I do with the Solenetta? Whatever Sol had said toVermillion, there wasn’t a chance I was keeping that thing. More andmore,IthoughtthesafestplanwastousegrainstocrosstheBarrierandleave the Solenetta here where it belonged. Using it on the Ridge wasskywriting that it had returned to Crownsville. The Suzerain’s demons

wouldcomeforitandtheracewouldbeginagain.Thinking of the Solenetta, my mind flashed back to something

Vermillion had said. “Sol, what didVermillionmean aboutme and Jaybeing Balian? If my father’s a Freeman, then she must have meant mymom, Jay’s mom too. But why would she say that? Unless she knowssomethingIdon’t.”

Hisgazerovedthesquare,buthewasn’tpatrollingashe’dbeenbefore;hewasavoidingme.“Vermillion’srarefiedSimbia,”hesaid.

“Iknow.Delanetoldme.”“Simbianscansmellafamilyfromamileaway.Theycansensehowa

person’s roots have evolved from the original five families. She sensedBalianinyou.”

“YoutoldmeBaliawaswheretheSolenettawasmade.”“Itwas,”saidSol.“Alongtimeago.”“ButshesaidJaywasBaliantoo.”Hehadthatlookagain,asifhewassizingmeup.Rightaway,Iguessed

thatheknewsomethingmore.“Sol,it’swherehewent,isn’tit?”Isaid.“Mydad.Afterhedumpedme.

HewenttoBalia.”Solslowlyshookhishead.“Mia—”“Sol,youcantellme.Youwon’thurtmyfeelings.Hedumpedme.End

ofstory.I’vehadplentyoftimetocometotermswiththatfact.”“I’msureitwasn’tlikethat.”“AndI’msureitwas.”Inudgedhisarm,wantinghimtoknowthathe

didn’thavetotiptoearoundme.“Look,Sol.Asgreataguyasyousayheis,mydadbailed.Youhaveyourfather,evenifheisintheWest.”

Sol leaned forward, his hands covering his mouth as he thought.Thoughthestreetbustledaroundus,thespacebetweenusfellsilent.

“Mia,”hestarted.Ismiled,warily.“Badnewsalwaysfollowswheneveryousaymyname

likethat.”“It’s notbad,”he insisted,buthewouldn’t lookme in the eyes.All I

couldseewashisstrongprofile.“It’ssomethingIshouldhavementioned.I...”

Hestopped,frowned,andgesturedacrossthesquare.ThedoortoMalone’shadopenedandashort,stockyman—definitelya

Runner,judgingbyhissweatshirtandjeans—exitedthehouse.Solsprang

tohisfeet.“Now’sourchance.”Conversationforgotten,Iasked,“We’regonnafollow?”“Ifwe findoutwherehe’sheaded,wemight learn somethinguseful,”

hereplied.Amischievoustwinkleenteredhiseyes. “Andbesides, Ican’tbringyoutoOrionandnotshowyouagoodtime.”

*

“This is a good time,” I announced, as we ducked into yet anotherdoorway.“Isthiswhatyoudowithallthegirls?”

We’dstalkedMalone’sguydownOrion’smainstreet.Noonelessthana full-blownmind reader could have guessedwewere trailing him.Theafternoonlighthadfadedandtheeveningtradershadtakenoverthetown.Wekeptback,using thecrowds for cover, all the time inchingcloser toMalone’sman.

“He’sheadingforthatsidestreet,”saidSol.Wewere jogging by the timewe turned off the road, entering into a

dim alley of ramshackle stalls and storefronts, bursting with shoppers.Withinseconds,I’dlostsightofourquarry.

“Now what?” I kept close to Sol, worried we’d get separated in thethrong.

Sol,headandshouldersabovemostofthecrowd,gavethealleyaquickscan.“He’senteredthatstore.”

TuckedbehindSol’sarm,Idodgedtheelbowsofpassersbyandtrustedhe could navigate us through. Nearby, a pencil-thin man on a podiumdancedtothebeatofadrum.Hislimbsrolledlikedoughasheposedintime to the music, creating a series of contorted shapes, which wereperhapsevencreepierthantheeyeaboveMalone’sdoor.

“Here,”saidSol,andheforgedapathtoastoreoppositeElasticMan’sstage.Hepretendedtowatchtheperformance.“Canyouseehim?”

Ipeeredaroundandthere,atacounterinsidethestore,IcaughtsightofMalone’sman.“Yep,”Isaid.

“Then Ineedyou todo something.”He rifled throughhispocketandthendroppedafewcoinsintomyhand.“Goinsideandbrowse.Listenin.Ifwe’relucky,he’llletsomethingslip.”

Iclutchedthecoinsas I tookanother look inside. I’dsaidIwantedtohelp,but...“Can’tyoudoit?”

“Ishouldn’tgointhere,”hesaid.

“Youmeantheyknowyou?”“Maybe.”Maybe?Whatkindofananswerwasthat?Ishothimascowl.“Allright,”

I said, skeptically. “But staywhere I can seeyou. I’ll never findmywaybackifwegetseparated.”

“I’ll be right there,” he said.He pointed to a stall to the right of thecontortionist’spodium.“Goodluck.”

I went in before I could chicken out. A bell tinkled above the door,announcing my arrival. So much for stealth. Inside, it was gloomy andcrampedandsmelledofastomach-churningmixofdust,wood,andsyrup.Ceiling-high shelveswith jars andbottlesof every color caught the lightfromtheorbsinarustedchandelier.

Headdown, Iwandered to a rack close toMalone’sman and feignedinterestinabottleofSourSoc,whateverthatwas.Ilistened.

“Two crates,” said Malone’s man. “And you’d better throw in somebottlesofDuddon’spoison.”

“You’re expectingMalone?” asked the proprietor, a five-foot, ninety-poundweasel-likemanwith thin, greasy hair. “Can’t remember the lasttimeIsawDuddoninOrion.”

“He’sonhisway,”saidtheman.“He’llbeherefortheparade.”“Thenyou’llneedmorethantwocrates.Howmanyishebringingwith

him?”“Justafew.Twocrateswillbefine.”IstoleapeekintimetocatchMalone’smancountingonhisfingers.He

got to sevenbeforehe stopped. “Bettermake that threecrates,”he said.“Tobedeliveredattwo.”

“Andsomeonewillbetheretocollect?TheparadestartsattwoandIdon’twantmymanturninguptoanemptyhouseagain.”

“There’llbeacoupleofusthereallday,”retortedMalone’sman.“Don’tbelate.”

Ikeptmyheaddownasheleftthestore,analyzingtheSourSoclikeitwas the most interesting thing on the planet. Inside, I cheered. We’ddiscoveredthatMalonewascomingtotown.

“Isthatallyouwant?”Startled,Irealizedthestorekeeperhadturnedhisattentiontome.“Erm.”Iflashedasmile,dumpedthecoinsonthecounterandprayedthere’d

beenough.Thestorekeeperscowledbut,tomyrelief,tookacoupleofthecoinsbeforepushingtherestacrosstheglass.

“Thanks,”Isaid,turningtailasfastasIcould.“Hey!”Ispunback,panicked,certainhesomehowsawmyguilt.“Youforgotyourbottle.”Silly me. I grabbed the Sour Soc from his hand and then barreled

throughthedoorontothealley.

*

“Yousaidseven,”saidSolforthefifthtime.“Isaidhecountedtoseven.Andthattherewouldbeatleasttwopeople

inthereallday.”We’dleftthealleyandwerewanderingOrion’sstreets.Excitementfor

tomorrow’s parade was palpable, especially among the kids, a group ofwhom (including one with a green beard) darted past with woodenwhistlesandstreamers,parentsnowhereinsight.

“Andthedelivery’sattwo,”saidSol.“Yeah.AreyouthinkingwhatI’mthinking?”“Ifyou’rethinkingwecouldinterceptthatdelivery,thenyes.”“That’swhatI’mthinking,” Isaid.“Oh,andIgotyouabottleofSour

Soc.”Ihandeditover.“Haven’t seen this stuff inyears,”he said ashe flipped thebottle cap

andtookasniff.Hepulledaway.“That’snasty.”“That isn’t what you’re supposed to say when someone offers you a

gift.”“Youwantit?”heasked,offeringittome.Itookasniffbeforeconcedinghispoint.“Itsmellslikefeet.”“Notyours,Ihope.”I thought of my old sneakers festering on Rusty’s backseat. “Course

not.”Sol held on to the bottle, and aswe passed an oldwoman shaking a

basketforchange,hehandedittoher.“Foryou,”hesaid.Thewoman looked as if her birthday andChristmas had come all at

once.ThepowerofSourSoc.Itneverfailedtoplease.“SoMalone’scoming to town,” saidSol,whenwemovedon. “Iknew

thelittlewormcouldn’tresist.”He was in full stride mode. It was kind of hard to keep up. “I’m

guessingyoutwohaveahistory.”“He’saclawcurlingsnake.”“Youdon’thaveanyclaws.”Ihesitated.“Doyou?”“Only on the fullmoon.”Hemust have caught the look onmy face.

“Joke.”“Younevercantellintheseparts.”Though I’d yet to fully catchmybearings, Iwaspretty surewewere

headedawayfromVermillion’s,notthatImindedkeepingSoltomyself.He pointed out landmarks as wewalked. The boarded-up building thathadoncehousedtheMagician’sGuild.MaslianRock,agiantstatueoftheFreemanwho’ddiscoveredthecaveswherethepeopleofWelkin’sValleyhadhiddenafterthesiegeinNarlow.AndtheEveningSongFountainwithits breathtaking cascade of multicolored waters. But it wasn’t until wereachedtheVelanhallthatwestopped.

Thepalacewas larger thananything I’dever seen.Therowofcream-colored mansions adorned with flags and banners that faced the palacewere far grander than the homes on Orion’s back streets. This wasobviouslywhereOrion’spowerfulresided.

WecrossedtotheVelanhall’ssteps,greatmarblemonstrositiesthatledtotheterracesabove. I lookedup,up,uptothetowers,whichrose likebeaconsagainstthedeepeningsunset.Ishivered.

“Theydon’tholdpeopleinthosetowers,Mia,”saidSol.“Areyouamindreader?”“Luckyguess.”I traced the steps that spiraled the nearest tower’s outer wall and

figuredtherehadtobeatleastfivehundred.Ahugestarwasengravedinthestonenearthetop.

“It’s theMorningstar,” said Sol, catching the direction ofmy gaze. “Itsymbolizeshope.Asthesunrises,itstrikesthetowerandthestarshinesforafewmoments.Itmarksafreshstart,anotherchanceonanewday.”

IstaredattheMorningstarandwonderedifJaycouldseeittoo.“IwishheknewIwashere,”Isaid.“Thathe’snotforgotten.”

“Kidsaretough,Mia.IfJay’sanythinglikeyou,he’llbefine.”“Jay’smoreresilientthanIam.”“Ifindthathardtobelieve,”Solreplied,softly.

IturnedmybackontheVelanhallandsankontothebottomstep.“EversinceJaycametoCrownsville,Ithinkhe’sbeendreamingofthisplace.Heremembershismother,youknow.Hesaidtheytookher.”

“Nothavingparentsmusthavebeenhardforbothofyou,”saidSol.“It was harder for Jay,” I replied. “He’d play games with swords and

magic. I just thought itwassomethingthatboysdid.But Iwonder ifherememberedallalongthathewasfromhere.”

“Mia,hecouldn’thaveknownmuch.”“I’mnotsure,”Isaid.“Ithinkthisplacehasalwaysbeeninsidehim.”Iwatchedsentinelspatrolling,rememberingthehorrificchasethrough

thewoodssurroundingBordertown.“Sol,abouttheplan,”Isaid.He sat at my side, his legs close to mine, his presence once again a

comfort.“Whataboutit?”IfelttheVelanhall loomingbehindme, itshugetowerssymbolsof its

impenetrablepower,withJaycaptivesomewhereinside.“IthinkweshouldgetJayfirst,”Isaid.Soltiltedhisheadashelistened—hewaslistening,Icouldseeitallover

hisface.“Mia,gettingintothisplacewon’tbeeasy.”“Exactly,”Isaid.“OncewehavetheSolenetta,you’regoingtowantto

getitoutofOrion.Noone’sgonnastaytohelpJay.”Iputmyhandonhisknee.“Sol,pleasedon’tgettheSolenettabackandthenbailonme.”

Mywordsclearlyshockedhim,andIfeltbadforthinkinghemightdothataftereverythingwe’dbethrough.

“Whywouldyouevensaythat?”heasked.Itookadeepbreath.“It’sliketheSolenettaisallanybodycaresabout!I

can’tleavewithouthim.Iwon’t.”SoltookmyhandsbeforeIcouldpullaway,hisgripstrong.“Mia,”he

said, his expression serious, his eyes filled with assurance. “I promised.AndI’llpromiseagain.We’llgetJayout.”

“Youswear.Likeonabloodrite?”“I’d swear on anything,” he said, squeezingmy hands. I could almost

feel thepowerofhispromisepassing fromhishands intomine. “I’dcutoutoneofDelane’sheartsandswearon that if itwouldmakeyoutrustme.”

Icouldn’thelpbutsmile.“Hewouldn’tbetoohappyaboutthat.”“Hecangetbywithone.Mia,youcan’teverbelievethatI’dleaveyour

brotherinthehandsofthatanimal.”“No,”Isaid,andImeantit.“ButIcouldbelievethatyou’dtryandget

meandtheSolenettaout,thenworryaboutJaylater.”From the sudden change in his look, it was clear I was closer to the

mark.“It’sdangerousforyouhere,Mia.”“AndmoresoforJay.He’sallalone,Sol.Hedoesn’thaveyoulooking

outforhim.”“Mia,believeme,”hesaid.“Hedoes.”Hereleasedmyhands.Theswitchhadflicked.Allthecontrol,all the

restrainwasback.HewaswoundsotightIcouldalmostfeelhimpulsatingbesideme.

“Mia,there’ssomethingIhavetotellyou.”I bracedmyself.With this kind of buildup, the newswas sure to be

huge.Orbad.Orboth.TherewerenoribbonsandrainbowswhenSolwasstruckwiththismood.

“AboutJay?”Myvoicewasshaky.“Aboutme.”Helookeduncertain.Hewasnervous.Myheartraced.“Ishouldhavetoldyoubefore,”hesaid.“Imeantto.Iwantedto,but..

.”Hefrowned,strugglingfortherightwords.“Whatisit?”Iasked.“Sol?”Stillhefoughtagainstwhateveritwashehadtosay.Ireachedforhis

arm,desperatetourgehimon.“Sol?”Nothing.“Solandun.”Heturned.Thelightfromthesunsetcaughtinhiseyes.“That’sthefirst

timeyou’vecalledmethat,”hesaid,hisvoicebarelyawhisper.“Iguess,”Ireplied.“Ineverreallythoughtaboutit.”“It’sjustaname,right?”“Ofcourse.”“Itdoesn’tmeananything,”hesaid,almosttohimself.Iscowled.“Okay,nowyou’refreakingmeout.”Ilookedaway,hopingalittlepersonalspacemighthelphimopenup.It

didn’t.Hating the silence, Iwas ready to speak,but stoppedasmygazecaughtafiguresprintingacrossthesquare.

“IsthatDelane?”Iasked.“It’sDelane.”

Solsawhimtoo,forhegottohisfeetandprotectivelyreachedformyhand,themomentforgotten.“Thisdoesn’tlookgood.”

Delaneskiddedtoastopinfrontofus.“I’vebeenlookingalloverforyou,”hesaid,panting.“Vermillionsaidyouwereatthehideout.”

“Wetookadetour,”saidSol.“What’shappened?”Delane glanced at Sol, then licked his lips and looked atme, clearly

uneasy.“It’sBromasta,”hesaid.“He’shere.”

TWENTY-TWO

I’donceswornthatwhenIfinallysawmyfather,I’dslaphisstupidface.

But I couldn’t. He didn’t have a stupid face. He had a handsome face,worn, but handsome. He was dark in the hair and eyes and, at themoment,inneedofashowerandashave.

HesatinVermillion’skitcheninalongblackcoat,muchlikeOldManCrowley’s.Flakesofdry,crustymudcoveredthesleeves.Whenhegottohisfeet,hispresenceloomed,tallandbroad.

I’d always wondered how we might meet, but I’d never dreamed itwouldbeinBrakaland.Andmyfatherhadneverlookedlikethisinthosedreams, more like the guy who’d sold me the bottle of Sour Soc. ThescenesI’dimaginedusuallyinvolvedmeburningwithrage,demandingtheapology that, deep down, I believed Jay and I were owed, and thenshowinghimthedoorashehaddonetous.Thatwashowitwassupposedtobe.Ineveronceimaginedthatitwouldfeelthissurreal.

The housewas empty, except for us and Sol, who hung back in thedoorway,armsfolded.HenoddedwhenIlookedbacktohim,remindingmethatIprobablyneededtospeak.

“Wecamethroughthevalley,”Isaid,hesitantly.“Isawthehouse.”Itwasn’tmuchof a start.Whatwas I supposed todo?Throwmyself

intohisarmsandsqueal,Iloveyou,Dad!“I’mrelieveditstillstands,”myfatherreplied.“Youhaven’tbeenback?”“IdoubtIcouldevergoback,”hesaid.Hepointedtothebenchontheoppositesideof thetable. I sat,back

straight, chinup, feeling a little likewhen I’d interviewed formy job atMickey’s.Here’saresumeofmylife,Dad.Sorryyou’renotinit,butyouwerebusywithotherthings.ButIdidn’twanttotalkaboutme.

“Youknowyoursonishere,”Isaid.“ThatElias,orwhateverhisnameis,tookhimandsixotherboys.”

Myfather’sgazeneveronceleftmyface.“It’swhyIcame,”hereplied.“IreceivedamessagenotlongafterithappenedandIimmediatelysetout.Ihavebeentravelingnightandday.”

Whatdidhewant?ABoyScoutbadge?“Amessagefromwhom?”Iasked.“Fromyouruncle,Petraeus.”Petraeus?“YoumeanPete?ButPete’sinCrownsville.”He took from his pocket a palm-sized stone, sapphire in color and

highlypolished.Heplaced it on the table betweenus. I snatched it up.“I’veseenthisbefore!Onthelivingroomshelf.”

“It’s a parler stone,” said Bromasta, still watching me intently. “Acommunicationdevice.Thisisoneofapair.Youruncleholdstheother.”

“Soyou’vebeencheckinguponus.”“Moreregularlythanyouknow.”I ranmy finger across the surface and caughtmy face reflected back.

My frownwas sodeep it remindedmeofOscar theGrouch. I picturedPetealoneatthehouse.Isawthebluestoneonthebookshelf.Crownsvillehadneverseemedsoclose.“Weshouldcallhim.”

Bromasta took the stone frommyhandand laid it backon the table.“There’snothingPetraeuscandotohelp.”

“ButhemightcaretoknowthatI’mstillalive!”IcaughttheaccusationinmytoneassoonasI’dsaidthewords.Ipaused.Thiswasn’taboutPeteandpolishedstones.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”

“IcameforyouandJaylan.”“Hisname’sJay.Andyou’vehadyearstodothat.Whynow?”“Because everything your mother and I’d planned for you has

unraveled.”My heart kicked as soon as he said “mother.” This was going to be

harderthanIthought.Hewasholdingback,almostasmuchasIwas.Youcould see it in the tension around his mouth, the deep ridges on hisforehead,andthewhiteknucklesofhisclaspedhands.

“Whereisshe?”Iasked.“Sheisgone.”“Gone?Ordead?”Hefailedtoreply.Itdidn’ttakeageniustoputittogether.“It’sbecause

ofwhatshedid,isn’tit?”Isaid.“Shestolethenecklace.”ItwasonlywhenBromasta lookedtothedoorwaythat Iremembered

thatSolwasthere.“Howmuchdoessheknow?”heaskedhim.“Notmuch,”repliedSol.Heturnedaway,clearlywantingnopartinthe

conversation. “I’ll be outside if you needme,Mia.”He closed the doorbehindhim.

“Whydidyouleaveus?”Iasked,assoonaswewerealone.“Icanlookaftermyself,butJay?He’sjustakid.”

“Wehadnochoice,”saidBromasta.Heshiftedinhisseatandthescentofhorseandsweatrosefromhiscoat.

“I’msupposedtobelievethat?”“Giving you upwas the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I wouldn’t

havedone itdifferently. If I’dhadmyway,youwouldneverhavecomebackhere.”

Atleasthewashonest.“Toolatenow,”Isaid.“Whydidtheykillher?”It was clear wewere cut from the same cloth; he kept his emotions

almostastightlyreinedasme.Butthatonequestionfinallymadeacrackinhisbusinesslikefacade.

“Becauseofwhoshewas,”hesaid.“Andwhowasthat?”Pain entered his eyes—deep, heartfelt pain, more physical than

emotional,andrightawayIknewthathe’dlovedher.“YourmotherwastherightfulkeeperoftheSolenetta.”Ittookacoupleofsecondsforthattosinkin.I’dspentsomanyyears

profilingawomanI’dneverknown,a thief,orworse, languishing in jail,serving time as she deserved. My father’s declaration turned the entiretheoryonitshead.Alltheseyears,I’dthoughtmymotherwastheworstkind of scum and she’d done nothing wrong? The Solenetta had beenrightfullyhers?

“Yourmother’snamewasIlalia,”hecontinued.“ShewasBalian.BornofthebloodlinedescendedfromthecreatorsoftheBarrier.They,andonlythey,havethepowertomanipulatethesolensandcreateatrueandlastingEquinox.” He’d regained his calm manner. It suited me fine. I couldhandlecalmandcollected.

“Thenhowcomeotherpeoplecanusegrains?”Iasked.Henoddedslowly.Wasthatatraceofasmile?“You’resharp,Mia.Tellmewhatyouknow.”“Notmuch,” I replied. “A solen grain is in an orb, the orb contains a

spell, the spell allows the grain to open theBarrier.But there’s no spellstrongenoughtoharnessthepowerofacompletesolen.Right?”

“That’sright.”“ButyousaidsomeonewithBalianblooddoesn’tneedthespell.That

theycanopentheBarrierusingonlyasolen.SoevenifEliasfindsasolen,it’sworthlesswithoutoneofthatbloodlinetouseit?”

“Withoutaspell,whichhecannotconjure,therewouldbenoreaction.There’snodoubtEliashassolens,Mia,yethe’sbeenunabletoopentheBarrier.”

“And that’s why he’s taken Jay,” I said. The explanation felt right assoon as I said it. It wasn’t simply about the Solenetta. Elias had beendrawntoJaybecauseofwherehe’dcomefrom.

“I just assumed Elias was looking for the Solenetta and that he’dthoughtJayhad it,” I stated,myargumentgainingstrength. “Buthewaslooking for someone Balian—someone who could use a solen. Hemusthavegivenupon theSolenetta.He’s just trying toopen theBarrier anywayhecan.

“But it doesn’t make sense. Of all the Balian people, why Jay?Whythoseotherboys?Idon’tgetit!”

“Itwillbehardtounderstandunlessyouknowitall.”“Thentellme,”Iurged.Hishandsformedapyramidbeneathhischin,theskinaroundhiseyes

crinklingashewatchedme.“FromthebeginningoftheBarrier,”hesaid,“theBaliansknewoftheconnectionbetweenthesolensandtheEquinox.Having created the Barrier, they devoted themselves to remaining itsmaster.Theyexperimented,testeditspowers,itslimits.Theyfoundthatindividualsolenscreatedabrief,temporaryEquinox.ItwastheideaofaBalianElder to link solens, toharness theirpower in a single entity thatalonecouldeffectatrueandlastingEquinox.”

“SotheymadetheSolenetta?”“And in doing so, created an object of such power that it could

transformthefutureofourworldanditsBarrier.Theydidnotfearwhatcouldbebroughtaboutthroughindividualsolens;itwasareactionthey’dlongagomastered.”

“AndtheSolenetta?”“An entirely different entity, one of such strength that anyone who

wielded it could induce the Equinox at any Barrier weakness, however

small.Using the Solenetta required no training, no skill. It is a key thatopenstheBarrier.

“Such power would need all of Balia’s protection. So they made adecision.Ineachgenerationtherewouldbeone—andonlyone—boundtotheSolenettabymagic.Onlyonecoulduseit.”

“Andatonepointthatwasmymother?”Iasked,stunned.“Itwas,”saidBromasta.“AndElias,throughhismanytravels,hismany

guises, learned this.Yourmother leftBaliaduring theGreatWar. It isalong story I have no care to tell you and one the Balians would ratherforget.Still,Eliashuntedhertothevalley.”

“Hedestroyedthevalleytofindher?”“Partly. The valley wasn’t safe anymore, for anyone, especially

Rheinholds.WetookyouwhenyouwerejustababyandgaveyouandtheSolenetta toPetraeus.Hehid youon theOtherSidewith awomanweknewfromthisworld.”

“Grandma,”Isaid,nodding.“She was no blood relative, Mia. She was a magician who’d fled

followingthePurge.Shehadtheskillstoprotectyou.Shekeptyousafe.Petraeus kept the Solenetta himself—away from you, where you and itweresaferstill.”

“Butyousaidonlyoneineachgenerationcoulduseit.ThatwasMom.”Chilled,Ipaused.“Holdon.IusedtheSolenettaontheRidge.”

“That is right,Mia,” saidBromasta. “TheSolenettawaspassedtoyou.Youareitsrightfulowner.”

Clearlyhe’dmadeamistake.Whywoulditpasstome?I’dneverevenbeentoBalia!Itbelongedwithsomeonewhoknewwhattheyweredoing,who understood solens and the Equinox and magic, not a high schoolstudentfromNebraska!Boundbymagic?Whatdidthatevenmean?

But I sawmyselfon theRidge, theSolenetta inmyhand, theBarrieropeningbeforeme.And thenight thedemonhad taken Jay, theBarrierhadbeen closing by the time I’d gotten there.That is, until I’d steppedontotheRidgewiththeSolenettaaroundmyneckandthegreatwalloflighthadexpanded.TheEquinox.

“You passed it from Mom to me,” I said, disbelieving though Iunderstood.“BeforeyousentmetotheOtherSide.”

Bromasta nodded. “Using a spell Ilalia conjured. We had no choice.Eliaswouldneverhavegivenuplookingforher. Ithadtopasson.With

youandtheSolenettasafelyontheOtherSide,weeludedEliasformanyyears.WhenJaylanwasborn—”

Istraightened.“Wehavethesamemother?”“Yes.”Theblondeinthephotographwiththesadbutbeautifuleyes.Shewas

mymothertoo.“Whathappenedtoher?Howdidshedie?”“Eventually Elias’smen found us,” Bromasta replied. “They took her.

ThoughtheSolenettawassafelybeyondhisreach,Eliasfoundothersolensand tried to force Ilalia to use them to forge another opening, howeverinsignificant itmightbe.Yourmother resisted.Shewas strong,Mia,butstrengthonlylastssolong.”

Horror-struck, I listened to his tale. No wonder Sol had kept quietaboutthenecklace.IfIhadbeeninhisplace,Iwouldn’thavewantedtobetheonetotellitsstoryeither.

“Increasingly desperate, Elias searched for those of your mother’sbloodline, determined to find any person who could connect with thesolensinhispossession.Baliaitselfwasclosedtohim.FollowingtheGreatWar,they’dbarredtheirdoors,creatinganimpenetrablewebofspellsandenchantments.AllEliascoulddowastolookforothersinBrakalandwhosharedIlalia’sblood.ThatwaswhenIremovedJaylanfromthisworld.”

“Andthat’swhythey’vetakenhim.”Myvoicestrained.EverythingthathadhappenedsinceAlexhaddisappeared,sinceJayhadseenhismominthecornfield,flashedbeforemyeyes.“Theyfoundoutyouhadasononthe Other Side, they just didn’t know who. Elias’s demons weren’tsnatchingrandomkids.TheywerelookingforJay.They’regoingtomakehimopentheBarrier.”

“They’llfail,”saidBromasta.“WithouttheSolenetta,Eliascannotcreatea lasting Equinox, nomatter how hard he deludes himself that he can.He’s looked for theSolenetta.Hehasn’t found it.All hehas is apitifulbeliefthatthesonofIlaliaRheinholdmightbringdowntheBarrierwithindividualsolens.”

“Buthemightknowsomethingyoudon’t!HehasJay.Hehassolens.”“You’renotlistening,Mia.Anindividualsolenisdumbwithoutamind

tunedtoitspower.Jaydoesnothavethatpower.”“Howcanyouknowthat?Youhaven’tseenhimforsevenyears!”PainagainenteredBromasta’seyes.“WhenItookJaylantotheBarrier,

I placed a solen in his young hand,” he said. “Nothing. Away from this

world,he’sneverlearnedtheskillsnecessarytomanipulatethestones.HecannothelpElias.OnlytheSolenetta,inthehandoftheoneboundtoit,cancreatethelastingEquinox.”

“ThenEliasisonafalsetrail.”“There is only onewho can use the Solenetta,Mia.Only one that it

hears.You.”IputmyheadinmyhandsandtriedtodigestwhatI’dheard.Forthe

first time since stumbling into Brakaland, the story did actually makesense.Allofit.Only,itwasimpossible.“Thisisbad.”

“Not as bad as you think,”Bromasta replied. “Elias doesn’t knowyouexist. He knows only that Ilalia bore a son.He doesn’t realize that shepassedtheSolenettatoherdaughterlongbeforeJaylanwasborn.”

“HeknowssomeoneopenedtheBarrier,” I said. “Youshouldhear thetalkinBordertown!”

“Buthedoesn’tknowitwasyou.Thatisourgreateststrength.Andnowwehavetogetyououtbeforeyou’refound.”

“And if I am found?” I asked. “I’m not my mother! I can’t stop theBarrier from opening. I’ve already used the Solenetta and I didn’t evenknowwhatitwasthen!We’llhavetodestroyit.I’llusegrainstogetmeandJayback.”

“Itcan’tbedestroyed,Mia.”“Of course it can,” I exclaimed. “How else did they get grains? They

groundupsolens.Let’sgrinditup.”“Itcan’tbedone.TheSolenettacannotbedestroyed.”Ifeltlikeatimebombwaitingtogooff.Mymother,Jay,Pete,me—all

ofuswerewrappedupinataleofwhichIwantednopart.Andthentherewasthisman,BromastaRheinhold,myfather.

Stunned, speechless, I sat as Bromasta wearily removed his coat andplaced iton the table.Beneathhis coat,heworeadeepgreen shirt, thesleevesrolleduptohiselbows.Ifrowned.

“Thetattoo,”Isaid,pointingtohisarm.“Youhavethetattoo.”Bromasta glanced at his forearm where the Lunestral lay strong and

true.“I was the king’s man for many years, Mia,” he said. “Before the

madness of the Purge forcedme out of that court of lies. But I am theking’smaninmyheart.Manywhosupporthisreignbearhismark.”

Themarkofaking.

“That’swhatitmeans?”Iasked,mymindracing.“It’sconnectedtotheking?ThenwhydidyoutattooJay?”

Bromasta shrugged, clearly surprised by my interest in something heobviously considered of little note. “TheLunestral’s protection is alwaysgrantedtothesonsofthosewhostandattheking’sside,”hesaid.“IamnowaFreeman,Mia,butKingSolander ismyfriend.Agoodfriend.Anold friend. The Rheinhold family stands by him, no matter whatdisagreementswemayhavehadinthepast.”

Forthefirsttimeinmylife,IwishedIhadthattattoo.I’dswapitfortheSolenettaanydayoftheweek.I’dseenhowinvulnerableSolhadbeentothedemonsandtheshadowimps.

Myheartkicked,thenraced.Mymouthdried.IstaredatBromasta,butIsawonlythedreambird’swingsinredandgold,greenandbluestretchedfromshouldertoshoulder,fromnecktohiponSol’sback.

“Sol,”Isaid.“Hehasthetattoo.”“Solandun? But of course. He is descended from the Lunestral. Its

powerisinhisblood.”“Theking,”Isaid,myvoicefallingintoahush.“Yousaidhisnamewas

Solander?”“SolandertheSecondoftheHouseofBeseye.”Everything slipped into place. Sol’s fatherwas in theWest.Malone’s

wariness around him. Why Sol had worried he’d be recognized at thestore.

“Itcan’tbe,”Iwhispered,thoughalreadyIknewitwastrue.Solander.Solandun.Sol.Ilookedatmyfather.“He’stheking’sson.”

*

I sat on the steps in the alley outside Vermillion’s walled yard, myemotions lurching between shock, embarrassment, and rage. Solenetta?Fateoftheworld?Along-lostfatherturnsuponthedoorstep?Smallfry.I’dfallenhook,line,andsinkerforaguydescendedfromthedreambird.I’dfallenfortheking’sson.

Okay, I knew it could never have been. I knew I belonged inCrownsvilleandSolbelongedhere.Butithadbeennicetopretend.

Therewasnopretendinganymore.The timewe’d just spent togetherwalkingOrion’s streets.Whenwe’d stood side by side in the valley andhe’dtoldmeabouttheFallsofVerderay.I’dgottenitallwrong.ItwasasDelanehadsaid.Solthinksaboutonethingandonethingonly—defeatingEliasandclosingtheBarrierforever.AndIwasthemeanstodoit.

A chirrup came from across the alley, and from behind a crate, agutterscampscurriedintotheopen,drawnbythescrapsoffoodlefthereduringtheday.ItofferedmeacursoryglancebeforedartingbackbehinditscratewhereIknewitwatchedme.

“Hey,buddy,”Isaid,strangelygladforthecompanyandwishingmylifewasasstraightforwardasagutterscamp’s.

Itseyespeeredout.IpulledtheSnickersfrommypocket,theoneSolhadgivenmetobribethegateguard.“Iknowyouwantthis,”Isaid.Itookoffthewrapperandhelditout.“Comeandgetit.”

Thegutterscamptookacoupleofdancingleaps,butstayedwellback.Itwatchedme,headtooneside,itslongneckstretched.Itossedhimthecandybar.Thelittleguysnatcheditup.

“Youreallyshouldn’tfeedthem.”ItwasSol.Ihadn’theardhimopenthegatetoVermillion’syardbehind

me.Thegutterscamptookonelook,andthenboundedintotheshadows.Stomachchurning,Iturnedaway.“Itlookedlikeithadn’teatenfordays.”

“It’llfollowyoueverywherenow.”Hesteppedthroughthegateway,thensatatmysidewithoutinvitation.

Ipulledaway.“What’swrong?”heasked.Therewas no avoiding this, nomatter howmuch Iwanted to.What

was I going to do? Hide from him until the moment I stepped backthroughtheBarrier?

“Hetoldmeeverything,”Isaid.Solleanedforward,tryingtocatchmyeye.Istaredathishands,unable

totrustmyselftolookatanyotherpartofhim.Fromthismomenton,hewas strictly off-limits, rescuing Jay our only connection. The illusion ofhimwasfadinglikeripplesonthesurfaceofapool.

“Iwas inCrownsville towatch you,Mia,” he said. “Why else do youthinkI’dgotothatawfulschool?”

“Idon’tknow,”Ireplied,emptyinside.“Youtellme.”Before I thought to stopmyself, I looked at him.His expression had

reached an even deeper level of intensity: his brow straight, his eyesnarrowed,themusclesinhisjawtightlyclenched.ItfeltlikeabillionyearssincethefirsttimeI’dseenhimfromtheRidge.

“Youseenowhowimportantitisthatyouleave,”hesaid.“Andhowimportantitisthatyoustay.”Hefrowned.“Hetoldmeeverything,Sol,”Isaid.“SowhatdoIdo?BowlikeGus?”I

hesitated.“Gus.Heknewaboutthis,didn’the?”Sol’smannerswitchedtheseconditbecameclearthatIknewwhohe

really was. His shoulders sagged. He covered his face with his hands,drawingadeepbreaththroughhisfingers.Whenhereappeared,helookedresigned.

“Gus is from thisworld,” he said, clearly deciding to ignore themostpertinent part of themassive secret I’d unearthed. Iwasn’t about to lethimoffsoeasy.

“Andhowmanyothersknewtheheir to the throneofBrakalandwashangingoutinCrownsville?”

Hestiffenedatthestinginmytone.Iwasglad.“It isn’t like that, Mia,” he said, his voice low, with a faint hint of

warning.“I think it’sexactly like that,” I snapped. “Thedreambird—symbolof

theking.That’saprettybigsetofwingsyoucarryaroundwithyou.”“Itriedtotellyou,”saidSol.“Iwantedto.OutsidetheVelanhall,Iwas

tryingtofindaway.Willyouletmeexplain?”“Youdon’thavetoexplain,”Ireplied.“Yousaidityourselfathousand

times:Nothing’schanged.IwantmybrotherbackandIwantoutofthisplace.Iwantschool. IwantWillie. Iwanttoforgetthatanyofthiseverhappened.”

Heflinched.Ordidhecringe?Howsimplemylifemusthaveseemedtohim.Hewastheking’sson,afighterinagreatandendlessbattle.Hewas as rooted in this world as the trees and rocks I’d seen inWelkin’sValley.Andhewassurroundedbywomen,likeVermillionBluewithhersupermodel curves andmajor-wowskin,whoknewexactlywhohewas,andwhatitwouldmeanforthemiftheycouldlandhim.

Andme?Well,IwasjustMiaStonefromCrownsville,Nebraska.Sillyold Mia who’d thought she’d met a guy who overshadowed the greatAndyMonaghan.When,allthistime,I’djustbeenapawninhiswar.

Icouldn’texplainthatIwasheartbroken,mortified,becausethatmeantconfessinghowIfeltabouthim,andthatjustcouldn’thappen.Notnow.Butwhat I feltmore than anythingwas crushing disappointment. I hadbeengrowingtotrustSolsodeeply,andallthattimehe’dconcealedtheessenceofwhohewas.

Ibrushedmyhairfrommyfaceandpulledmyselftogether.WhatelsecouldIdo?I’dfeltsorryformyselfforlongenough.“SowhattimedowehitMalone’stomorrow?”

Solheldmygaze,drawingbackanytraceofemotionuntilitwasalmostasifwe’dnevertalkedatall.“Ithinkit’sbestifyoudon’tcome.”

“I’msurethat’strue,”Iremarked.“Doesn’tmeanthat’swhat’sgoingtohappen.”

“Mia,afterallyourfather—”“Pleasedon’tcallhimthat.”“AfterallBromastatoldyou.OurgreatestweaponisthattheSuzerain

doesn’tknowyouexist.”“I’mnotaweapon.AndI’mcoming.”“I’llnothaveyouriskyourselflikethat.”Riskmyself?Thiswasajoke.Asifhecared.Asifanyofthemcared.I got tomy feet, anything to get away fromhim. “Sol, all anyof you

careaboutisthatstupidnecklace.”“Mia...”Igroaned.“Herewegoagain!Mia,what?YouthinkIcan’tfight?You

thinkIcan’tbattledayinanddayoutandstillhavethestrengthtoturnandsmilesweetlytotheworld?Well,Ican.I’vespentmyentirelifedoingit,thankstothatmaninthere.”

“He’syourfather,Mia,”saidSol.“Andhe’sagreatman.”“Thenluckyforyouhe’sonyourside.We’llgetyournecklaceandthen

youcandowhatyouwantwithit.AllIcareaboutisJay.”Ibargedpasthimforthegatebeforehecouldsayanotherword,fleeing

from the weight of shock and disappointment that grew heavier andheavier onmy shoulders.Toomany thoughts raced throughmybrain. Icouldnotescapethem.

Determined to avoid anymore confrontations, I charged through thehouse and lockedmyself in my room. And then I did the only thing Icould think to do, the only thing that could take me away from thisnightmare.

Islept.

TWENTY-THREE

Iwoketoraisedvoices.Daylightstreamedthroughthewindow.Ibolted

upright, convinced I was back in my bed in Crownsville. But then Irealizedthatthevoicesweren’tPeteorJay’sandthatthefaintperfumeIsmelledwasn’tmineorWillie’s.Fullydressed,Ithrewbackthecomforterand headed for the door. My stomach growled as if I hadn’t eaten forweeks.Butnoneofthatmattered.Icreptdownstairs.

“Bromasta,shecandoit.”ItwasSol,hisvoiceahurriedwhisper.Bromasta’squicklyfollowed.“Ididnotsendmydaughterawayonlytohaveherreturntothis!She

can’tcontroltheSolenetta’spower.ItwouldbeherhandsthatopenedtheBarrier.Herhandsthatstartedthewar.”

HatingthatI’dgottenprettygoodatallthissneakystuff,Iperchedonthebottomstepandstrainedtohearwhatwashappeninginthekitchen.

“Shewon’tleavewithoutJaylan.”“Shewilldoassheistold.She’smydaughter,Solandun.”“You don’t even know her! She’s strong. She’s held that family

together.I’veseenit.”Silence.Igrippedthebanister,preparingforaquickescapeshouldthe

kitchendooropen.Whatevertheyweretalkingabout,Solwasclearlyonmyside,whichsurprisedmeafterourconversationlastnight.

“Istheresomethinggoingonbetweenyouandmydaughter?”Asecondpause.IheldmybreathforSol’sreply,knowingtheanswer,

yetwantingtohearitfromhimnonetheless.“There’snothingbetweenus.”“Ideservetoknow.”

“There’snothing.”Mystomachfell.“BecauseI’llnothavehermixedupinthepoliticsplayedouttherein

theWest.HermotherandIleftcourtforareason.Idon’twantthatkindoflifeforher.”

“Bromasta, this isaboutMiaandtheSolenetta.Shehaseveryright tofightwithus.Whobut shecan say that the fateof theSolenetta is alsoliterallyafightforherlife?”

Anotherpause.Thisonewasweightier,strained.Myskinprickledfromtheadrenalinethat floodedmyveins.Afight formy life?Whatever thatmeant,itdidn’tsoundgood.

“Youdidn’ttellher,”saidSol.Iscootchedtotheedgeofthestep,closingthegapbetweenmyselfand

thekitchen,ifonlybyinches,soasnottomissasingleword.“Sheismychild,Solandun.”“WhosebloodisintheSolenetta.”“Asitwasoncemywife’sblood.Yes,Iknowweareboundtothat...

thing.”“Thenshedoesn’tknowwhatwillhappeniftheSolenetta’sdestroyed?”“YouthinkI’dletmychildliveunderadeathsentence?”hespat.Death sentence? Bromasta hadn’t mentioned anything about blood or

deathsentencesyesterday.He’dsaidtheSolenettahadbeenpassedtome,like itwas no big deal, like itwas themost natural thing in theworld.Whatkindofgameweretheyplaying?

“Therearemanywhostilltalkaboutdoingit,”saidSol.“Iftheyknowofthistrouble,it’llgivethemalltheammunitiontheyneedtoarguethatitshouldbedestroyed.”

“WhydoyouthinkIgotMiaandtheSolenettaoutofthisworld?WhydoyouthinkIsitherenow,myownchildastrangertome?”

“Linnetthasmyfather’sear—”“Linnettisaspinelesswretch.Hehasmorefacesthanavisagedemon.”“Yethissupportersgrowinnumber.They’llcomeforit,Bromasta.And

thistimenotevenIwillbeabletopersuademyfathernottodestroyit.Isthatwhatyouwant?”

“Howdareyou!Igaveupmychildrentopreventthat.”“Butthat’sexactlywhatwillhappenifwedon’tgettheSolenettaback

and it and Mia out of Brakaland. She has a right to help us do this,

Bromasta.Shehasarighttofightforherownlife.”ThekitchendooropenedbeforeIcouldbolt,notthatIcouldhaverun

if I’d wanted to. My heart had emptied and the blood that it oncecontainedhadpooledinmyfeet.

ItwasSol.Assoonashesawme,hefroze.Ishookmyhead,unabletodo anything else. The walls closed in; the reflections in Vermillion’smirrors repeating the scene over and again. Behind Sol, I caughtBromasta’sfigurepacingthekitchen.Whateverthisnewrevelationmeant,IknewIcouldn’tfacethemanwho’dcursedmewiththisinheritance.

I spunaroundto the frontdoorandwasoutonthestreet in seconds.Withnocluewheretogo, I sprintedtowardthealleyatthebackofthehouse.AllIwantedwastobealonebecausebeingalonewastheonlywayIwouldeverbesafeagain.

A distant drumbeat, like I’d heard in the valley, drifted through thestreets asominousas anydemon’s screamor sentinel’s call. I stopped. Itwastheparade,orsomepreparationforit.TheSuzerainwasbackandtheSolenettamightsoonbeinhishands.

“Thiscan’tbe,”Icried.“Itisn’treal!”“Mia.”Solstoodattheheadofthealley.ItwasSolasIwantedhimtobe,his

faceoverflowingwithconcern.Still, Iputoutahandtokeephimaway,needingmyspaceifonlyjusttobreathe.

“Theveinsinthestone,”Ichokedout.Hedidn’tflinch.“Yourblood.”“How?”“A blood rite. Theymade the changewhen youwere a baby.When

theyknewtheSuzerainwouldcomeforIlalia.”Thetalegotworseandworse.Witheachnewrevelation,Ifeltmygrip

onrealityslipa littlefurtheraway.Aweekagononeofthishadbeeninmylife.NowmyveryexistencewasthreatenedbyacomplexwarIbarelyunderstood.

“Whywould they do something like that?” I asked,my voice on theedgeofhysteria.“Sol,Bromastasaiditwasjustaspell.Hedidn’tmentionanybloodrite.”

Soltookastepcloser.HestoppedwhenIwavedhimback.“Theyhadnochoice,Mia,”hereplied.Heraisedhishands,apromisethathe’dkeephisdistance.“TheSolenettahadtopassonfromIlalia.”

“ButBromastasaidshecouldcontrolit,thatshecouldresistitspower.”“Onlywith solens.Notwith the Solenetta. Itwas too great a risk to

keeptheSolenettaboundtoher.Theypassedittoyouandthoughtyou’dbesafeontheOtherSide.”

“Soifit’sdestroyed,Idietoo?”Myvoiceroseyetanothernotch.“DidIgetthatright?Whowantstodestroyit,Sol?”

“There’safactionthathasmyfather’sear,”hereplied,andthistimehesteppedforward.Ididn’tstophim.“They’vearguedforittobedestroyedever since thePurge. It’s thosewhobelieve thatmagic is too dangerousandunpredictabletobekeptinthisworld.”

“Whydo they get to decide?Theydidn’tmake theSolenetta. It isn’ttheirs.”

“Thatwon’tstopthem,”hesaid.“Yourfather,me,manyothers—we’vekepttheSolenetta’slocationasecret.Buttherearemanywhowouldseeitfoundanddestroyed.You’renothingtothem,Mia.Dispensable.Aworthysacrifice.”

IknewitmusthavebeenhardforSoltotellmeaboutthebloodrite.Hehadn’twantedtotellmeaboutBromastaandthehouseI’dbeenbornin and that informationwasn’t even in the same league.But I could tellthathewasdeterminedtoseethisstorythrough.

“They’dseemedead?”Isaid,unabletobelieveitcouldbetrue.“EventhoughtheyknowBromasta?”

“Especially,”saidSol.“Hehasenemiesatcourt.’“Enemiesthatwouldseehischildrenkilled?”“Enemies that caremore about preventing Elias’s war on your world

thansavingonelife.”AndIwasthatlife.Iwasinfuriated.Everythingbadthathadhappened

inmylifehadallbeenbecauseofthatnecklace.I’dhadneverknownmyparentsbecauseofit.Despiteallofthat,I’dfoughttogetwhereIwasatschool and athome.Seventeenyears ofhardwork.Theyweren’t takingthatawayfromme.

“ThenwereallyhavetogetthatthingbacktoCrownsville!Imeanthat.Wehave to get toMalone’s. Sol, you canhear thedrums.Theparade’sstarting.”

“Westillhavetime,”hereplied.As if my bones had suddenly melted, I slumped against the wall,

overwhelmed by everything I now knew. “On one hand, the Solenetta’s

preservedand I start awar.On theother, theSolenetta’sdestroyedandI’mtoast.”

“Mia, no,” said Sol, his tone laced with regret. He came towardme,stopping right in front ofme until all I could seewas him. “Neither ofthosethingswillhappen.”

“Youcan’tknowthat.”“Iwon’tletthemhappen.”“Howcanyoustopit?Can’twetakeittoBalia?Theycandowhatmy

motherdid.Theycanpassiton.Theycankeepitthere.”“TheBalianswon’tintervene,”Solreplied.Hedrewcloser.“Itoldyou

that things didn’t gowell for themduring theGreatWar.Yourmotherthought they should help too. That they could use the power of theSolenetta against Elias, that they could use it for good. She was Balia’sbrighteststar.Ofhighblood,keeperoftheSolenetta.Adored.

“Butthenshemetyourfather.Shefell in love.SheneverreturnedtoBalia,andtheBaliansneverforgaveyourfatherfortakingheraway.Theyturned their back on us and the Solenetta, knowing that its presence inBrakaland would keep the threat of war alive forever. It was theirpunishmentforstealingtheirdaughter.”

“ThenI’mdonefor,”Isaid.“Therereallyisnohope.”“Don’t say that.” Sol tookmy hands, gripping them tight against his

chest. “You said it yourself last night: Nothing’s changed. We get theSolenetta.WegetJay.AndthenwegetyoubothbackacrosstheBarrier.You’re strong,Mia. You know how things are now. You knowwhat tolookoutfor.YouknowtherearepeopleinCrownsvillewhocanprotectyou.”

“IsCrownsvilleevensafeanymore?”“Saferthanhere.”But Crownsville would never be the same. Gone were the days of

volleyballanddebate.Howcould Ieventhinkabout suchthingswhenIknewIwasthekeytostartingawarbetweentwoworlds?Itwouldneverend.SomenightEliaswouldsendavisagedemonandwhatcouldIdotostopit?Iwasn’tmymother.I’dneverevenmether.HowwasItolearnallshe’dknownaboutsolensandthemagicofBalia?

“Howcanlifechangesoquickly?”IwhisperedtoSol.Ourhands remainedentwined, tightbetweenourchests. Inchesmore

and we’d be as close as you could get without doing things you really

shouldn’tdoinanalleybehindsomebody’shouse.ThiswastheplaceI’dprayed to be, right? But being close to Sol felt more complicated thanever.Hewasstilltheking’sson.AndIwasnowthegirlwithmyheadonanexecutioner’sblock.

But staringdeath in the facehaddonesomething tome. Ididn’tcareaboutconsequencesanymore.WhatcouldbeworsethanwhatIknew?IhadtotellSolhowIfeltabouthimbeforeitwastoolate.

“Sol—”BeforeIcouldstart,Sol’s lipsdrewclosertomine.Handsholdingthe

sideofmyface,heguidedmeintohiskiss.Everythingforgotten,Ireachedforhim,too.His fingersgrazedthebackofmyneck, thepressureofhistouchincreasingasheheldmetohislips—notthatIhadanyintentionofpulling away. His other hand slid downmy back and then grippedmetightlyatthewaist,drawingmeinuntilourbodiestouchedateverypoint.

Withmyheadtippedback,Iswayedinhisarms,butSolwasn’tabouttoletmefall.Neveroncemissingthebeatofhiskisses,hisarmsencasedmeandheeffortlesslydrewmecloser,almostliftingmeoffmyfeet.Heatrosebetweenus.

Cravingthetouchofhisskin,Ireachedforthehemofhisshirtandfeltthefirmmusclesinhisback.Herespondedimmediatelytomytouch,hisgentlekissestakingonaharderedgeuntilitwasimpossibletoknowwhowantedthismore.

Andthenhestopped.Our faces remained together, almost cheek to cheek, the tip of Sol’s

nosegrazingmyskin,hisbreathwarmagainstmyear.“Mia,I’msorry,”hewhispered,hisvoicesoothinganddeep.

Sorry?“Ishouldn’thavedonethat.”He’dkissedme.Solhadkissedme.WasitpossiblehefeltformewhatI

feltforhim?Ihadtoknow.“Just tellmewhy,” I gaspedbetweenbreaths. “Ididn’t thinkyou . . .

Whendidyou...?”“Always,”hesaid.“ItwasDelanewhostoppedme.”Therewas no space between us, no room to breathe.He had to feel

howfastmyheartwasbeating. I steppedback,butdidn’tget far,as thewallbehindmeblockedmyretreat.

“Hetoldyou?”Iasked,shockedthatDelanewouldbreakhispromiseto

meandtellSolhowIfelt.Sol looked down atmy face, his body towering overmine. “Toldme

what?”heasked.ThenDelanehadn’t toldhim.“Nothing,” I stammered.“It’s just . . . I

don’tbelievethisishappening.”Heanalyzedevery inchofmy face,hisexpressionsoearnest, soopen

andhonest.HowwasIevergoingtokeepmyhandsoffhim?“Iwantedtotellyou,Mia,”hesaid,“buttheredidn’tseemanypoint.

None of this was about me. It was about you. As if you needed meharassingyouontopofeverythingelse.”

“Harassingme?”“Ithinkyou’rebeautiful,Mia,”hesaid.“Smart.Tough.Thewayyou’ve

handledeverythingthat’shappened—it’sunbelievabletome.HowIfelt?Thatwasmyproblem.Icouldn’t let itget intheway.Yoursafetycamefirst.Always.Ithoughtabouttellingyou,butthenIsawhowcloseyou’dgrowntoDelaneandI...”

“Delane?”“The two of you were always laughing, finding fun, even during the

worstofwhathadhappened.Icouldseehowcloseyou’dgrown.”“It was that or go crazy,” I replied, frantically. “Sol, it didn’t mean

anything.”“Itmeantsomethingtome.”Hetookmyarm,squeezingmywristasif

willingme tounderstand. “Mia,Delane is likemybrother.Whateverhewanted,ifIcouldgiveittohim,Iwould.Butnotyou.”

Thiswasadream.ThetimesSolhadwatcheduswiththatstrangelookinhiseye...“YouwerejealousofDelane?”

“I’mnotproudof it,”he said. “And if there is anythingbetweenyou,pleasesay,andyouwon’thearanotherwordofthisfromme.”

“Delane’smyfriend,Sol,”Ireplied.“That’sall.”Sol’s eyes twinkled, his lipsmoving as if to smile. I couldn’t let him

smile,not ifweweretoavoiddoingthingsyoureally shouldn’tdo inanalley behind somebody’s house. I slid from between Sol and the wall,certain that if I didn’tmove I’d be unable to stopmyself fromdragginghimtothegroundthereandthen,tohellwiththeworldanditsproblems.Thatcouldn’thappen.TherewastoomuchIhadtosay.

IputafewfeetofdistancebetweenusbeforeIspoke,“ThenI’dbettertellyoutoo.DelaneknewIwascrazyaboutyou.Hesawthroughmefrom

thestart.Hewarnedmeoff.”Solfrowned.“Whatdidhesay?”“Thatallyoucareaboutisthewarandthatthereisn’troominyourlife

for anything else. I have to know, Sol. Is that what I am? Just anotherpawninyourwar?”

“Mia,no,”hesaid,aghast.“Whywouldyouevenaskthat?”“Becausethisiscomplicated,”Ireplied.“Sol,justthinkaboutyourlife.

You have all of Brakaland to worry about. You’re the king’s son,remember?”

Hecameatme,his long legscoveringthesmallgapbetweenus inaninstant.“Iremember,”hesaid,hisvoicelow.“Andforjustasecond,whydon’tyouthinkaboutwhatthatmeans.”

Right away, I saw the change in his expression. It was the look he’dflashedthesentinelsintheWastes.Shouldersback,headup,awarningofdangerinhiseyes.Thatwashowhelookedatmethen.Helookedlikeaking’sson.

“Everysecondwatched,”hesaid.“Everydecisioncrucial.SofewpeopleIcan truly trust.Thedaughtersofmen I can’t stand thrown inmypathnightanddayalltofurtherambitionsatcourt.AclickofmyfingersandwhateverIwantisthere—money,friends,girls.”

Iflinched.“Isthereapointtothis?”“Yes,”hereplied,andhetookmyhand.“Youarethepoint.Inevertold

youwhoIwasbecauseIcaredaboutyou,Mia.Ididn’twantthatbetweenus.PeoplechangearoundmewhentheyknowwhoIam.You’reoneofthefewpeoplewhomIcantrulytrust.”

TheintensityinSol’sexpressiondissolved.HewanderedtothestepatVermillion’sgateandthensat.

“I’msorry,”hesaid.“Mia,youjustsaythestrangestthingssometimes.Ifthiswas about thewar, Jaywouldhave gone to theSuzerain and that’swherehe’dstay.Jaycan’tmanipulatetheBarrier.ItwouldhelpourcausemoretoletEliaskeeptheboysandwastehistimewonderingwhyhecan’tforget his Equinox. If this was about the war, I could have taken theSolenettaontheRidgeandyouwouldneverhaveseenmeagain.”

“Youwouldhavedonethat?”Iasked.“Ididn’tbecauseofyou,Mia.ThenightJaydisappeared,Iwentbackto

theRidgewiththeSolenettaandthegrainI’dsavedformyreturn.Ifthepolicehadn’tbeensearchingtherise,Imighthavecrossedover,andnever

comeback.Instead,IreturnedtoTiamet’s,andusedthemaptosearchforotherweaknesseswhereIcouldsneakthrough.

“But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stop thinking about your face on theRidgewhenJay’ddisappearedandhowyou’dlookedatmewhenI’dliedaboutwhathadhappened.Yourbrotherwasgoneandyou’dneverknowwherehewasandyou’dnevergethimback.Yourlifewouldhavechangedforever.Youhad friends,butyouwerean islandamong them,different.Jaybeinggonewouldhaveisolatedyouevenmore.Iknowhowthatfeels.”

Ihungback,armsfolded,stunnedthathe’dfeltthiswayandneversaidaword.“DoyoumeanyourlifeintheWest?”Iasked.

“Youdon’twanttohearaboutthat.”“Ido.”Wantingtobeclosetohim,Ijoinedhimonthestep.“Youmust

havegivenupsomuchinleavingyourhome.Ican’tbelievethepeopleatcourtletyoudoit.”

“It was my choice,” said Sol. “Besides, I answer to no one but myfather.”

“Sowhat’sitlikeoutthere?”“It’sacityofpolitics,”hereplied,hisvoicethickwithdisgust.“Politics

andpandering.Iwasbornintoit,butI’veneverwantedit.Everyone’stoobusyforcingtheirownagenda,scramblingforaplaceclosetomyfather.Ihaveonlytoaskandtherewouldbeaplaceformeonmyfather’scouncil.Noonerefusestheking’sson.”

“Insteadyou’resittingonastepwithme,”Isaid.Hesmiled.“WhichisexactlywhereIwanttobe.”“But you’re in themiddle of a battlegroundhere, Sol. It’s dangerous,

especiallyifyou’rerecognized.”“Everythingisdangerousthesedays,”hereplied.Heleanedbackonhis

hands, his legs outstretched. “I volunteered for the Sons of theWest assoonasIwasoldenoughtobeofhelp.Myfathersupportsthatdecision.Itwas the right thing to do. Talk only takes you so far; ifwe’re to defeatElias,weneedtobewherewecanseehim.”

“Andifyourfather...youknow.”“Youmean,whathappensifhedies?”Ishrugged.“Akinghereisn’tthesameasakinginyourworld,Mia,”hesaid.“Heis

anelectedofficial.MyfatherwaselectedbecausehecomesfromthelineoftheLunestralandthatisneededinatimeofdemons.”

“Soifsomethinghappenedtohimyou’dbeelectedtoo?”“It’stoosoontosay.”I thought about what he’d told me at Bromasta’s house about one’s

path to adulthood in Brakaland. “But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?You’reprovingyourselfworthy.”

“No,”hesaid.“IamheretohelpstopElias’swaronyourworld.”Thedrums continued their thrumand theoccasional cheer rose from

the streets.Herewewere, sitting sideby side, talkingofblood rites andkingsoffarawayplacesmomentsaftersharingourfirstkiss.Brakalandanditsproblemsweren’tabouttowaitforus.

“Thisisamess.Whatarewegoingtodo?”“Idon’tknow,”saidSol.Iwelcomedhishug.Thespacebetweenhis shoulderandhisneck—it

waslikeitwasmadeforme,itfitjustright.IsqueezedbackashardasIcould.TheSuzerainhimselfcouldn’thavemademeletgo.BeingwithSolfeltlikehome.

We broke from the embrace, but Sol’s arm remained around myshoulders.

“YouknowBromasta’sgoingtokillyouifhefindsoutaboutus,”Isaid.“Hedidn’tseemhappyabouttheprospectofyouandme.”

Solgrinned,his facealiveandalert. “Bromasta, I canhandle. I’llhavehimthrowninjail.”

“Dothatanyway,”Ideclared.“Istillhaven’tforgivenhimfordumpingus.”

“Butonedayyouwill,”saidSol.“Youhavethecapacitytoforgive,Mia.Iseeitinyou.”

Ididn’twanttoadmitit,buthewasprobablyright.WhatwouldI,oranyoneelse,havedoneinBromasta’splace?CouldIhaveleftmykidsinBrakalandwhen I knewwhat their futures would be? Thatwould havebeen as cruel a choice as the oneBromasta hadbeen forced tomake inhidingme and the Solenetta.Don’t getmewrong; hewas a stranger tome. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t find any trace of daughterly lovesimmering insideme.But I didnow feelbound tohim.Our familyhadbeen destroyed in order to keep the Solenetta safe. I couldn’t let thatsacrificebefornothing.

“WeshouldgetreadyforMalone’s,”Isaid,thoughinsideIfeltreluctanttoleave.SolandIshouldhavebeentogethertotalkandtotouch.There

wasnotime.Hegentlyheldmyface.“Mia,afterallyou’veheard,doyoureallythink

youshouldcome?”I held Sol’s gaze, drawing on his strength, determined he see my

strength,too.“Morethanever,”Ireplied.“It’smyblood.Iwantitback.”He kissed my forehead, his hand stroking my hair. “Then we better

breakthenewstoBromasta.”WefoundBromastaatthekitchentablestudyingarchitecturalplans.As

soonasweentered,helookedup.“It’stheVelanhall,”hesaid,gesturingtothepapers.“Idon’tknowwhat

changes Elias hasmade to the place. TheVelanhall was never used forprisoners.ButhemusthaveJaylansomewheresecure.”

My father appeared fresher than the night before, but the wrinklesaroundhiseyesweredeep.Theparlerstonelayonthetable,butIdidn’taskaboutPete.Bromastahadbeenrightaboutthat.Petecouldn’thelpmenow.Itwastimetoplaymycards.

“Iunderstandwhyyoudidn’ttellmeaboutthebloodrite,”Isaid.“AllthatmattersisthatIknow.It’sbetterthatIknow.”

Bromastapushed thedrawingsaside. “Amillion lifetimeswouldn’tbelongenoughtomakeamendsforwhatwedidtoyou.”

IglancedatSolbeforejoiningBromastaatthetable.“Mylife’sactuallybeenprettygood,”Isaid.“I’mnotsayingthatIneverthoughtaboutyouorhatedyouforleaving.Icertainlydidn’tthinkyouwereinanotherworld.”

Hetookfromhispocketanotebookboundinbatteredleatherandheldtogether with a silver cord. He opened it to a wallet-size photograph,whichhadbeentuckedbetweenthepages.“It’s theonlyoneIhave,”hesaid,andhandedmethepicture.

Itwasmysecond-gradeportrait,theonewiththeblueturtle-neckandmissingfrontteeth.“Where’dyougetit?”

“I havemy sources,” he replied. “I always knew how beautiful you’dgrowup tobe, and Iwas right.Howcouldyounot,whenyourmotherwasthemostbeautifulwomanintheworld?”

I handed back the picture, suddenly self-conscious of Sol seeing mytoothlessgrin.

“PartingwithyouandJaylanwasthehardestthingI’veeverdone.”“Youdidwhatyouhadtodo,”Isaid.“Nowit’smyturn.TheSolenetta

isapartofme.Ihavearesponsibilitytokeepitsafe.”

Hewatchedmeintentlyandalookofpainenteredhiseyeslikewhenhe’dspokenofmymother.“Whydidweevergiveyouup?”

“Becauseyouhadto,”Isaid.Iofferedhimmyhand.“Atruce?”Itwaslikelookinginamirrorwhenhesmiled.“Ofcourse,”hereplied,

andshookback.Histouchbrokesomethinginsideme.Thiswasmyfather.“Okay,”Isaid.Afteramoment,myhandfellbacktothetable.“Now

howthehellarewegoingtogetthisthingback?”

TWENTY-FOUR

Sol drew a map of the streets around Malone’s safe house, and we

huddledarounditonthekitchentable.“Cloaksonassoonasyou’reinposition,”hesaid,againpointingtoour

marksinthealleybehindthehideout.“Mia,you’reinchargeofsupplies.StayclosetomeorDelane.Undernocircumstancedoesanyonepassbytheeyeoutfront.”

“Andme?”askedBromasta.Sincecallingourtruce,Bromastahadbarelymovedfrommyside,but

heseemedresignedtothefactthatIwasgoingtoMalone’s,andforthatIwasgrateful.

“You really shouldn’t come,” said Sol. “You’re a dead man if you’respottedoutthere.”

“Onecouldsaythesameforyou,”Bromastareplied.“Butmyfaceisn’tplasteredacrosseveryrewardboardintown.”Thiswasinterestingnews.“Isthattrue?”Igasped.Bromastamadeasoundinthebackofhisthroatthatmighthavebeena

“yes.”Somyfatherwasawantedoutlaw.Itwasactuallyprettycool.“Whatdidyoudo?”Bromastashuffled,uncomfortableinthespotlight.“IputtheSolenetta

farfromtheSuzerain’sreach.”“AndwipedoutoneofhisdemonarmiesontheTheaderyPlains,”said

Delane.“TheSuzeraindoesn’tforgiveandforget.”SoSolhadbeenright.Myfatherwasalegend.Andbythesoundofit,a

hell-raisinglegendatthat.“Youreallydidthat?”Iasked,impressed.

BromastaraisedaneyebrowandscowledatDelane.“Itwasalongtimeago.”

“Butnotforgotten,”saidSol.“Wecan’triskyourbeingspottedwithus.Wegoinasopportunisticthieves—nothingmore.”

There was one problem we hadn’t yet discussed. “So how do weinterceptthedeliveryguywithoutanyonenoticing?It’saprettybigpartoftheplan.”

“Welurehimsomewherequiet,”saidDelane.“Andhowdowedothat?”Delanegrinned.“That’llbewithVermillionBlue.”Vermillionenteredoncue. Ikeptmygaze firmlyoffBromasta’s face.

Having seen the “Vermillion Effect” in action, I thought I’d vomit if Icaughtthesamedreamylookinmydad’seyes.

“Nooffense,Vermillion,”Isaid,asshesandwichedherselfbetweenSolandDelane, “buteveryone in townmustknowwhoyouare.You’renotexactlyhardtospot.”

“Thenwewillmakeithard.”ShesnuggledagainstDelane.“Delane,youchoose.Iknowyouhavefavorites.”

“Twenty-eight,”croonedDelane.“Dotwenty-eight.”I triednot to laugh.Vermillionwasgrowingonme,especially since I

knewthatsheandSolweren’ttogether.Idon’tthinkI’devermetsuchaself-confidentperson.IwouldhavelovedtohaveseenherinactionwithKieranandSeth;she’dturnthembothintoquiveringwrecks.

ThoughDelanelookedlikehe’dbehappytohaveVermillionstayathissideforever,sheswepttothecorneroftheroomwhereshedrewbackacurtain revealing an alcove of shelves, crammed with bottles and jars.“Twenty-eight,”shesaid,scanningtherows.“Heresheis.”

She returned with a small green jar. “Beseye,” she said, and, afterunscrewing the lid, removed a strand of long, dark hair. “A touch ofBalian,thoughweak.”Sheinhaled.“AndFaunaDemonsomewherealongtheline.Unusualmix.”

Beyondmystified, I stared, asmesmerized asDelane. “I love twenty-eight,”hesaid,almostdroolingonthetable.

Stunnedandslightlyrepulsed,IwatchedasVermillionplacedthetipofthehaironhertongueandthenclosedhermouth.

Thechangestartedgradually:acoupleoftwitchesbeneathVermillion’sskin. Her lips, firm and plump, pursed to a heart. Her ice-blue eyes

darkened to brown.Vermillion’s scarlet hair blackened and then recededintoherscalpuntilitlayatshoulderlength.Hersilveryskintransformedto tan. And as all of this happened, the metamorphosis gained paceelsewhere.Shewasshrinking,forone.

There was no violence or jerkiness to the transformation. Everythingslippedandslid,likemeltedchocolatepouredintoamold.Andwhereitsettled, it set,until finallyVermillionwasgone,andapetitedark-hairedgirl,whocouldn’thavebeenmucholderthanme,stoodinherplace,herbody dwarfed byVermillion’s longwhite gown. The girl—Vermillion?—smiledandtheentirefacecamealivewithastunning,exoticbeauty.Shelooked Hawaiian to me—big brown eyes, golden tan, glossy waves ofebonyhair.Gorgeous.

Iscannedtheothers’faces,buttheyweren’tshockedlikeIwas.Delaneinparticular.TheonlywayIcoulddescribehisexpression?Half-baked.

Ilookedbackatthegirl.“You’vegottobekidding,”Iblurted.“Didthatreallyjusthappen?”

“I’m rarefied Simbia, Mia,” said the girl, her voice deeper thanVermillion’s. She batted huge black lashes at Delane. “A shape-shifter.Andthisisnumbertwenty-eight.Delane’sfavorite.Doyouthinkourmanwilllikeher?”Sheraisedherarmsandtwirled.Vermillion’sgownalmostslippeddowntowhereitshouldn’t.“Nowexcuseme,”shewhispered,andshepulledthestrandofhairfromhermouth.

“YouarestillVermillion,right?”Iasked.Icouldn’thelpit.“Ofcourse,”shereplied,asshereturnedthehairtothejar.“ButIneed

a template tochange. I foundtwenty-eight inJovaCitymanyyearsago.Sobeautiful.

“‘Vermillion,’shesaidtome.‘OnedayIwillbeoldandugly.Usethishair.Keepmybeautyalive.’

“Nowsheisapartofmycollection.”Shepointedtothejar-filledcloset.“AndnowImustchangethisdress.Thegirlissoshort.Howdidsheseeanythingfromdownhere?”Clutchingthedresstoherbody,shebreezedtothedoor,butnotbeforesheshotDelaneanotherprovocativewiggle.

“We’regonnauseVermilliontogetintotheVelanhall,right?”Isaid,assoonasshe’dgone.Thecostumesintheupstairsclosetfinallymadesense.“Shecouldtransformintoaguard.”

“She’llbepartoftheplan,”saidDelane.“Butthisisperfect.Sheevenhasguarduniformsintheupstairscloset.

It’ssimple.”“It’snotasstraightforwardasyouthink,”Bromastareplied.“Notevena

guardcanwanderatwillintotheVelanhall.”Okay,somyfatherwasaglasshalf-emptykindofactionhero.I’dyetto

hearabettersuggestion.“Let’sjustworryaboutMalonefornow,”saidSol.“We’regoingtoneed

thedecimators.Where’sthebag?”“It’supstairs,”repliedDelane.Ijumpedtomyfeet.“I’llgetit,”Isaid,gladtoproveIcouldbeuseful.

“Iamsupposedtobeinchargeofsupplies.”Insidetheguys’bedroom,thebagof spells layonachairbeneaththe

window. I checked what was left—a handful of repellers, plenty of theexplodingdecimatorsSolhadusedonthedemons,andacoupleoflargergreenish-yelloworbsthatIdidn’trecognize.

The distant drumbeats penetrated the room’s silence and mynervousness returned. It was getting close to the time when thecelebrationswould begin in earnest and the paradewould start its slowjourneythroughOrion’sstreets.AndtheSuzerain?Washealreadyhere?MightIevenseethemanwho’dbroughtsomuchdarknessintomylife?

IstaredatthedecimatorsasIenvisionedtheparademarchingby.Justone man had caused so much trouble. I imagined him waving to thecrowds, me among them. I’d shuffle closer to the road, reach into mypocketand...

“Didyoufindit?”IsnatchedupthebagandspuntofindSolatthedoor.“They’reright

here.Iwasjustcomingdown.”He closed the door and then sat on the bed. “Mia, are you sure you

wanttodothis?”heasked.“I’msure,”Ireplied.“I’mnervous,though.”ThedrumsrolledandIclutchedthebagofspellsmoretightly.Thiswas

it.Anyminutewe’dleavethehouse,and,withalittleluck,theSolenettawouldbeback inmyhands.WouldSol stick tohisword?Orwouldheforce me back to the Barrier as fast as he could? That was all for thefuture.First,wehadtogetthenecklaceback.

“Doyoureallythinkthisisgoingtowork?”Iasked.“Malonemustknowwhoyouare.Whydoesn’thesaysomething?”

“Heknowsonly that Iwork for theking,” saidSol. “Hedoesn’tknow

I’mhisson.”“Thenwhydoesn’theturnyouin?”“Becauseifhedoes,heknowswhatwillhappentohimwhenwetopple

Elias.Youdon’tearnloyaltyfromaratlikeMalone.Youtradeit.”Happy to spend these last fewminutes alonewith Sol, I came to his

side, tryingnottothinkwhat itwouldbe liketo fallbackontothatbedwithhisarmsaroundme.Nowreallywasn’tthetime.

“He’sgoingtoknowitwasus,” I said,carefullyplacingthebagatmyfeet,consciousofthedecimatorsinside.

“Butwe’renotgoingtogivehimproof.”“Doesthatevenmatter?”“DependsonwhatMalonedoesoncehefindstheSolenettamissing.He

maysaynothingandslopebacktoBordertowntolickhiswounds.ComingcleantotheSuzeraincreatesproblemsforhim,too:whyhedidn’tpassittotheBordertownsentinels;whyhehungontoithere.I’msurehecouldtalkhiswayoutof it,butanydealwiththeSuzerain is risky. Ifhedoesconfess,thingscouldturnbadhere.Itcouldbedangerousforyou.”

“Don’tworryaboutme.”Changingthesubject, I said, “Besides,we’vegotVermilliononourside.Ican’tbelievenoonetoldmeabouther.Didyouseemyface?”

Sollaughed.“YousaidDelanetoldyou.”“Heskippedthatpart.”“I’m not surprised,” said Sol. “Delane’s been wildly in love with

Vermillionsincewewerekids.Shecametocourtwhenwewereeightornine. That was it for Delane; he’s never been the same since. He’sincapableofrationalthoughtwhenshe’saround.”

“Thenyou’veknownheralongtime.”“Sheknowsmyfatherfromyearsback.”“Howoldisshe?”“Olderthanyouthink.”IrecalledVermillion’staleofthegirlfromJovaCity.Howlongagohad

that been?Was the girl now old, her fears realized?Ormaybe shewasdead, herwish immortalized inVermillion’s skin. Iwasn’t sure if itwasromanticorcreepy.

“Vermilliondoesn’tswipehairoffpillows,doesshe?”Iasked,thinkingofmybednextdoor.

“Youdon’twanttoendupinoneofherjars?”

“No,thanks.She’sgorgeous,butIfeellikeshe’sdangerous,too.Likeacutedogthatmightbite.”

“You have good instincts,” said Sol. “You should never underestimateVermillion.She’soneoflessthanahundredrarefiedSimbialeft.”

“Whysofew?”“They’vealwaysbeenrare,”hereplied.“AndthenEliashuntedthemto

virtualextinction.”TheSuzerain.WastherenomiseryinBrakalandthathehadn’tcaused?“Idon’tunderstandwhyhe’ddothat,”Isaid.“I’dwanttheSimbiaon

myside.”Solslowlynodded.“Heusedtheirbloodtocreatethevisagedemons.”Sickened,IpicturedVermillioninallherglory,triedtoimaginetowns,

citiesfilledwithotherbeautifulSimbia.AndthenIthoughtofthevisagedemonbeneathmywindow inBordertown—cold,cunning,devoidofallthelifethatmadeVermillionwhatshewas.

“That’sawful,”Isaid,thoughthewordsdidn’tcomeclosetodescribinghowIfelt.

“He’s found other ways to do it now, using what he learned fromworking with Simbian blood,” said Sol. “But he’s made very dangerousenemiesof thosewho’ve survived.Vermillionamongst them.She joinedtheSonsoftheWest,determinedtomakehimpay.Ihavenodoubtshe’llachievethat.Shape-shiftersareformidableopponents.”

It was all so wrong, as wrong as Narlow’s deserted streets and thesentinelswhostruckfearinBordertown.Howfarwouldthatmonstergotogetwhathewanted?Didhecareaboutanything,oranyone?

“Sol,ifyouhadthechance,”Isaid,“ifyougotcloseenough,wouldyoukillhim?”

Solhadacuriouslookinhiseye.“Idon’tknow,”hesaid.“Butyoumusthavethoughtaboutit.”“Manytimes.”“He can’t be allowed to get away with this. He’s destroying your

world.”“Whatdoyouthinkthisisallabout?”heasked,rakinghishandthrough

thishair.“Idon’tknow,”Ireplied.“Boysplayinggames?”“Ifonlyitwere.”Hetwistedtowardmeandplacedhishandonmyleg,

formingasmallintimatespacebetweenus.“He’sdangerous,Mia.Hesees

a world without the Barrier—a collision of cultures that could neverendure.Weknowsolittleaboutwhatheplanstodonext.Weonlyknowthat we can’t let him get started.” He took my hand and his fingersentwinedwithmine.“Juststayclosetomeoutthere,okay?”

Ismiled.“Likeglue.”“I’mserious.Youshouldn’tevenbecoming.”“Butyouknowthere’snowaytostopme,soyou’restuck.”“Thisisn’tajoke,”hesaid,buthewassmilingtoo.Yearningsimmeredinsideme.ItwasbothaddictiveandterrifyingthatI

couldfeelthiswayaboutoneperson.Heleanedinforakiss,alightbrushofhislipsagainstmine.Itwasn’tenough.Nestlingin,Irestedmyhandonthe bed,my other reaching for his face, his hair.Stop,world, I chanted.Juststop.

Sol kissedme oncemore, his gaze lingering onmy eyes as he pulledaway.Hedidn’twanttostopeither.Icouldseeitinhisface.Withahalfsmile,hegroaned.“Wehavetogo,”hesaid.“Youdefinitelywon’tchangeyourmindandwaithere?”

Ishookmyhead.Iwatchedhimheadforthedoor,tornbetweenfollowinghimorcalling

himback.Isuddenlyhadashinynewplan.WecouldrescueJayandthenstayhere,hidden,forever.Noonewouldknow.IcouldbewithSol.EliascouldhavetheSolenetta.Withoutmeitwasuselesstohimanyway.Untilhediscoveredhowtobreak thespell thatbound it tome,orcracked itssecretinsomeotherway....

WithSol’sbacktowardme,Iglancedatthebagonthefloorandimagesof the parade returned tomymind. I hated this FinneusElias, and thatwasn’t a word I used very often. I hated him. But maybe there wassomethingIcoulddoaboutthat.

AsSollefttheroom,Ireachedforadecimatoranddroppeditintomypocket.

TWENTY-FIVE

Amassive boom resonated throughOrion’s streets and an explosion of

multicoloredstarscascadedacrossthesky.“Iguessthat’sit,”Isaid.“It’sstarted.”“Then let’s hope the celebration brings out most of Malone’s men,”

Vermillionreplied.Wewaitedattheheadofadarkpassage,whichcutbetweenthestores

on the side street where Sol and I had followedMalone’s man. It wasquieterherethanthedaybefore;mostofOrion’spopulationlineditsmainthoroughfares.RubberManandhisaudiencehadgone.IpeereddownthestreettowhereDelanecasuallywaitedontheothersideofthestore.We’dbeinplaceforsometime.Iprayedwehadn’tmissedourman.

“Stillnothing,” I said, and shuffledback. “Idon’t think I’veeverbeenthisnervous.”

“Thinkoftheresult.Itisworthalittlefear.”Vermillion remained in the shadows, almost invisible in a long black

cloak.AdeephoodshroudedthefaceoftheJovaCitygirl.“SoltoldmewhathappenedtotheSimbia,”Isaid,andlookedbeyondhertowhere,farbackinthegloom,Solwaitedtoo.“I’msorry.”

“It is long past,” the Jova City girl’s voice replied. “But it will beavengedwhenthatmonsterandhisdemonichordesarewipedoffthefaceofthisland.”

“Idon’tknowhowyoucantobesoclosetohimandnottrysomething.”“Ihavepatience,”shesaid.“Greatpatience.”Iadjustedthebagonmyback,heavywithcloaksandspells,ropesand

bindings,andthoughtofthedecimator inmypocket.Wouldthechance

cometouseit?ForVermillionandtheSimbia,forthevalley,forJay,forme.

Afamiliarchirrupcamefromcloseby.Roundeyeswatchedusfromagapwherethebrickshadcrumbledfromawall.

“Justagutterscamp,”saidVermillion,withaloudexhalation.Theeyesblinkedtwiceandthendisappearedthroughthegap.“Itscaredmetodeath,”Igasped.Heart pounding, I caught a breath before again peering around the

cornertowardthestore.Amanheadedourwaywithcratespiledhighonhiscart.Delanewashotonhisheels.Thiswasit!

“He’scoming,”Isaid.IofferedVermillionafinalsmile.“Goodluck.”Witheverythinginplace,Isaunteredontothestreetandtothewindow

ofastorefrontacrossfromthepassageway.Fromoutofthecornerofmyeye,Itrackedthemanandhiscart.Thirtyfeet.Twenty...Handdanglinglooselyatmyside,ImadereadytoshootVermillionhersignal.

Ten...Five...Now!Ipointedtotheground.AheartbeatpassedandthenVermillionburstoutofthealleyandinto

thedeliveryguy’spath.I’mnotproudtosaythatIlearnedacoupleofthingsfromVermillion

thatday.Fromthemomentshethrewbackhercloak,thedeliveryguywasdoomed.Sheexplodedbrighterthanthefireworksthatsparkledoverhead,a rich aroma of flowers and spice sweetening the air around her.Neveroncemissingabeat,shekepttoherstory—ironicallyaboutanecklace,agiftfromherdyingmother,whichhadfallenintoadrain.

“Helpme,”sheurged,herchestpressedagainsttheman’sarm,hereyeswiderthanagutterscamp’s.“Please.”

“But my cart!” spluttered the man, though his eyes seemed moreinterestedinwhatwasburstingoutofthefrontofVermillion’sdress.“It’llgetnicked.Findsomeoneelse.”

Hewas not yet convinced, whichmeant it was time for “ConcernedOnlooker”totakeashotattheOscar.

“I couldn’thelpbutoverhear,” I said, springing to theman’s side andpryinghis fingers fromthecart. “Youcan’t just leaveher. I’llguardthis.Showuswhereyoudroppedit,lady.We’rerightbehindyou.”

“You’re so kind,” purred Vermillion, and seizing the helpless guy’shand,sheledhimintotheshadow-filledpassage.

Oncetheguywassafelyoffthestreet,Iparkedhiscartaboutthirtyfeetdown the narrowpassageway.Ahead,Vermillion simpered in theman’sarms.Sheledhimtowardadeeplyrecesseddoorway,closetowhereSollingered,hiddeninshadow.SoonDelaneappearedoffthestreet,headingafter thepair.WithSolwaitingaheadandDelane followingbehind, themanwouldnotescape.

I spokenowordtoDelaneashepassed,buthandedhimtheropeheneededtobindthemanandthestripofoldblanketthatwouldserveasagag.Bythetimethemanwasfoundorfreed,we’dbelonggone.

My role complete, I left the cart in the passage, and returned to thestreettokeepwatch.Distantmusicplayed.Fireworksexplodedoverhead.Barringadisaster,everythingwasinplace.

Though I knew I shouldn’t, I glanced behind me, hoping Sol andDelaneweregoingeasyontheguy,butIcouldseelittleintheshadows.Itwasprobably for thebest.SolbeatinguponMalonewasone thing; theweaseldeservedit.Butthedeliveryguy?Hewasjustinthewrongplaceatthewrongtime.

Itdidn’ttakelongforSolandDelanetocompletethejobandemergeontothestreet,leavingVermilliontotransformintothedeliveryman.

“Hewon’tgetoutof that for awhile,” saidDelane,whenheandSoljoinedme.

“Tellmeyoudidn’thurthim.”“Ofcoursenot!”heexclaimed.“Thepoormanwasjusttryingtomake

hisdelivery.”“Yeah,”Isaid.“Rightintoourhands.”A couple of minutes later, wheels rattled on cobbles behind us.

VermillionhadpickedupthecartfromwhereI’dleftit.TheJovaCitygirlwasgone.

“That’s just freaky,” I said,when I sawVermillion’s latest incarnationclothed in thedelivery guy’s brownpants, yellow shirt, andboots. “Youdidn’tleavehimnaked!”

“Don’t worry,” said Delane, and winked. “Vermillion left him herdress.”

*

“Here’sourspot,”saidSol.WeduckedintoadoorwayinthealleybehindMalone’shideout.“Cloakon.”

We’d sprinted across town, leavingDelane to trackVermillion as shenavigatedthecrowdswiththecart.Allwehadtodowaswait.

“It’scrazyoutthere,”Iwhispered,asIputonacloakfromthepackandraisedthehood.

“Shouldmakeiteasiertogetaway.”“We’vegottogetinfirst.”Solperiodically checked the alley as I rummaged through thebag for

Vermillion’sspells.Itwasallplanned.She’dgainentryasthedeliveryguy,then stun Malone’s men with a decimator. Following her signal, we’denter,findtheSolenetta,thengetourbuttsbacktothesafehouseasfastaswecould.Simple.

“Don’t forget the counter spell,” said Sol, as he adjusted his cloak.“Neverreleaseadecimator inaconfinedspacewithouttheprotectionofthecounterspelloryou’llknockyourselfoutintheblast.”

“Gotit,”Isaid,andhelduponeofthelargegreenish-yelloworbs.Theminutescrawledbyuntil, finally, therattleofwheelsapproached

andthenthecartandVermillionappeared.Gazeforward,sheofferedoutherhandasshepassed.Nowshewassafelyoffthestreet,Iplacedthetwospellsonherpalmbeforeduckingbackintotheshadows.

Delanearrivedmoments later. “Theparade’s atTanner’sRow. I’d saythatgivesusfifteenminutesbeforeitpassesthiswayandthecrowdsstarttothin.”

“Isthatlongenough?”Iasked,offeringhimacloakfromthebag.“It’llhavetobe.”“AndVermillion?”askedSol.Delane peered out, paused, then drew back into the doorway. “Just

gonein.”Thiswas it.ThoughSol andDelaneappearedcalm,panic rose inmy

guts. IpressedmyselfagainstSol’s side, searching for the reassurancehisphysical presence usually provided. For once, it didn’t work. Toomanythingscouldgowrong:Vermillionwouldn’tgetpastMalone’smen;she’dforget to use the counter spell and knock herself senseless with thedecimator;orwe’dgetinandtheSolenettawouldn’tbethere.

“Getoff!Getoff,whydon’tyou?”I snapped out of my worrying to find Delane tugging at his leg. A

gutterscamphadappearedathisfeet.Itpawedthehemofhiscloak.“Getoff,”hesaid,yankingagain.“Itwasintheotheralleytoo.Itmust

havefollowedusacrosstown.”“It followed us from Vermillion’s,” said Sol. “Mia was feeding it last

night.”Delanestopped,mouthagape.“What?”Suddenly conscious that this was my fault, I pretended nothing was

wrong.“Thatwashim?”Iasked.Itscuteroundeyespeeredup.“Mia,youneverfeedagutterscamp,”saidDelane,andagainyankedhis

cloakaway.“Well,Iknowthatnow,”Ireplied.“Goon,boy.Beatit.”Thegutterscampgaveafinaltug,andthensprangoffdownthealley.“IonlygavehimaSnickers,”Imuttered.Delanebrusheddownhiscloak.“Youknowtheycarryscrees.Getthose

inyourhairandyou’ll—”I never found out.Amuffled bang traveled the alley.A long, trilling

whistlefollowed.Vermillion’ssignal.Solpeeredout. “It’sher,”hesaid,andthegutterscampwas forgotten.

“We’rein.”

*

Threemenlaypassedoutonthekitchenfloorwiththedeliveryofbottle-filled crates scattered around them. Vermillion, in her delivery man’sguise,ushereduspast.

“Malone?”askedSol.“Not here,” Vermillion replied in the man’s voice. “Hurry. I’ll bind

them.YoufindtheSolenetta.Mia,thebag.”Ihandedittoher,thenfollowedSoldeeperintothehouse.Insideitwascoolandquiet,theonlynoisethesoundofdistantsinging.

A narrow hallway bisected the building with doors on either side.Paintings, of what appeared to be Orion’s streets, hung on the walls.About halfway down the passage, a narrow staircase led to the secondfloor. I tried to listen for footsteps overhead, but the singing from theparadegrew louder, likea choirwalked the streets, theirvoices airyandlight,theirwordslostinthemelody.

“Yougoup,”saidSol.“Calltomeifyoufindanything.”Jittery, I climbed the narrow stairs to a square landing. Three doors

edgedthespace.Bodybracedforwhatmightfollow,Iopenedtheclosestone.

Malone’sBordertowncollectionhadbeenimpressive.Whatgreetedmeherewasanightmare.Therewasnotaninchofspacetosqueezeanythingmoreintotheroom.Pictures,clothes,teddybears,saucepansfilleditfloortoceiling.Therewasevenanoldtinbathtubburiedbeneaththeclutter.IfWillie was right and collecting trash really was a defense mechanismagainstmisery,thenMalonehadsomeseriousissues.Fifteenminutesuntiltheparadepassedby?Itwouldtakemefifteenhours justtogetthroughthedoor.

Mia...Suddenlyfrozen,Iturnedmyeartotheair.“Hello?”Silence followed, but I’d definitely heard my name. Poised to run, I

listenedfortheothersdownstairs.Nothing.Mia...Again. Definitely a voice. In fact, it was a whole host of voices

whisperingatonce.AndthatsongIthoughtI’dheardoutsidehadgrownlouder.

I turned slowly, fixingmy gaze on the opposite door, convinced thatwaswherethevoicescamefrom.Thesongroseagain.

Mia-hasee-ah-mia-si...“Whoisthat?”Heartthumping,Icrepttothedoorandgentlypusheditopen.Beyond

layalargeroom,decoratedwithheavilycarvedfurnitureandrichlywovenrugs.Daylight flooded throughawidewindow.Sweetperfume lingered.Thesingingvoicesswirled,beautiful,lighterthananythingI’deverbeforeheard.Certainagainthattheymusthavecomefromoutside,Ihurriedtothe window where crowds mingled below, jockeying for position inreadiness for the Suzerain. Sentinels and guards kept them back. Therewasnochoir.

...hasee-mia...“Who’sthere?”Andwhatweretheysaying?Imadeforthedoor,butgotnomorethana

fewstepsbeforeIstopped.Thehaironmyarmsbristled.Theskinonmynecktightened.Ifeltwatched.Therewasnootherwaytodescribeit.

I lookedbacktothewindow,expectingtoseeafacepeeringthrough.Butnofaceappeared.WhatwasIthinking?Iwasonthesecondfloor!

Then maybe it was the four poster bed and the beady eyes of theanimalsthathadbeencarvedintoitthathadmeonedge.Theirteethandclawslookedasiftheycouldspringtolifeandpounce.

Spooked,mygazeswepttothesideofthebed.Awoodenjewelboxlayontopofanendtable,itsimagereflectedinthemirrorbehind.

Mia...mia...mia...I dashed across the room and snatched the box from the table. The

voices I’d been hearing soared as something shifted inside it. Heat rosefromthewood.Thiswasit.TheSolenetta.Ithadtobe.

Handstrembling,Iopenedthelid.AssoonasIsawthosegoldenstones,relief flooded throughme. The stoneswere unharmed, the veins intact.Eventhechain’sbrokenclasphadbeenrepaired.Elated,Ithrewbackmyhood and reached inside. Images burst inmymindwhen I touched theSolenetta.Crystalbluewaters.Mountainsandstreams.Birdsflyingaboveforested peaks. Fountains. Palaces. Itwas almost as if I stood inside thescene.Itwasmynamethey’dcalled.ItwasthevoiceofBalia....

“Youcalledout!”Solstoodatthedoor,hiseyeswidewithconcern.Theimagesvanished.Thesongceased.“Sol,Ifoundit!”Igasped.“Itcalledtome.”Sol hurried tomy side, the concern on his facemorphing into relief.

“How?”“Idon’tknow.ButIsawaplace.IthinkitwasBalia.Iheard them.”I

laughed.“Sol,Igotitback!”Soltentativelytouchedthestonesasifheexpectedsomethingwildand

miraculoustooccur.Thesolensdidnotrespond.“Mia,wehaveit,”hesaid.“Nowlet’sgetoutofhere.”Iwasnevergoingtoloseitagain.Ever!Isecurelyfastenedthenecklace

aroundmyneck,thentuckedthestonessafelybeneathmyclothes.Sol glanced out of the window, waiting for me as I secured the

necklace.“It’scrawlingoutthere,”hesaid.“Weshouldgo.”Iputtheboxbackonthetable,thenwenttoraisemyhood.Istopped.

Myheart raced at the reflection in themirror behind thebox. I backedaway,tentativelytouchingSol’sarm.Ipointedup.

Malone’seyewatchedfromtheceiling.Idon’tknowhowI’dmissedit—itwasatleasttwentyinchesacross.IknewwhatI’dfeltwatchingme.Iglanced at the jewel box—there was no lock or bond key. With thosevoices singing andmynamewhispering on the air, I’d never stopped to

wonder why Malone would leave his treasure so unprotected. Now Iknew.He’dbeenspyingonusthewholetime.

“We’re in trouble,” said Sol.His gaze on the eye, he gestured to thewindow.

A gang of at least ten sentinels closed in on the house, pushingbystandersoutofthewayastheyapproached.

“Whatdowedo?”Icried.“Werun.”Hedidn’tneedtosayittwice.Wetoredownstairs.“Theyknowwe’rehere!”Solyelled.“Everyoneout.”Vermillionguarded themen,whowereblindfoldedandbound in the

kitchen.“How?”“There’saneyeupstairs,” Ireplied,asDelanerushedintothekitchen.

“Heknowswe’rehere.Therearesentinelsheadingthisway.They’rerightoutside!”

“Butdidyoufindit?”saidDelane.Solwasalreadyatthedoor.Hestrippedoffhiscloak.“Wegot it,”he

said.“Cloaksoff.Wesplitup.GetbacktoVermillion’s—anywaybutbyadirectroute.”

“Idon’tknowtheway,”Isaid.Solopenedthedoor.Hecautiouslycheckedthealley.“You’recoming

withme,”hesaidashehurriedVermillionandDelanethroughthedoor.“Ifwegetsplitup,followthetowerstotheVelanhall.I’llfindyouthere.”

Igrabbedhishand,themagicandmysteryoftheSolenettalonggone.Maloneknewitwasus;evenifIhadn’tloweredmyhood,hewouldhaveseenmyreflectioninthemirror.Bordertownwoulddefinitelybeclosedtousnow.WouldweevenmakeitbacktoVermillion’s?

“Vermillion and Delane are gone,” said Sol, after again checking thealley.“Youready?”

Inodded.“Thenlet’sseehowfastyoucanrun.”Wedidn’tgetfar.Nosoonerhadweenteredthealleythangruntsand

growlscamefromcloseby.“They’recoming,”Isaid.We sprinted left, toward a narrowpassage close toMalone’s that cut

backtoMaslian’sSquare.Solstopped.Hepressedhisbacktothewallandpeered around the corner. He quickly pulled back. “No good,” he

whispered.“They’veblockedit.”I ducked low and peeked.A sentinel gangwaited at the head of the

passage.Theiraimwasunclear.Keepothersout?Orkeepusin?Icheckedinthedirectionofthehouse,expectingmoresentinelstostreamintothealleyfrombehind.

“Wecan’tgoback,”Isaid.“We’llnevermakeitpastthehouse.”“Thenwe’llhavetorunforit.”“Towardthesentinels?”“Ifwewaitmuchlonger,they’llcutofftheotherendofthealleytoo.”“Butthey’llseeusgopast,”Iwhispered.“Keep your eyes forward, your head up, andwhatever you do, don’t

fall.”Itookacoupleofbreathsandtriedtogaugethedistancetothestreet.I

usedtogetprettygoodtimesintrack.Theendofthealleycouldn’thavebeenmuchmorethanahundredmeters.

“Thisisnuts,”Isaid.“Youcandoit,Mia.”Iagaincheckedbehind.ThesentinelshadnotemergedfromMalone’s.“Remember,”saidSol.“HeadtotheVelanhall.”Ihesitated,nolongerlikingthetoneinSol’svoice.“Sol—”Hesqueezedmyhand.“You’vegottheSolenetta,”hesaid.“Don’tlook

back.” Before I could stop him, he tore toward the gang of waitingsentinels.

Itwasanutterlypsychoticact.Andall justtogivemeafewprecioussecondstogetaway.Icouldn’twastethem.

Headup,eyesforward,IsprintedashardasIcould.Ahundredmetershadneverseemedsofar.AllIcouldpicturewasSolamongthesentinelsthatguardedthepassage.Hewascrazy.Hecouldn’tfightthatmany.Andoutrunthem?Hedidn’tstandachance.

A deep voice called from behind—“Get her!”—and I stumbled as Iglanced back. Sentinels poured out of Malone’s. Their gargantuan feetpummeledthecobblesastheypickedupspeed.Butthirty...twenty...tenmetersandI’dmakeittothestreet,thankstoSol.

Thesoundsandscentsofthecrowddrewme—cheering,clapping,andasweetaromalikemeltedtoffeeorfudge.TheSolenettabouncedaroundmyneck,poundingagainstmyskinlikeanexternalheartbeat.Itwasapartofme.Icouldn’tletthemtakeitback.

Five...four...three...AfinalpushandIburstfreeofthealley.Totheright,thestreetwasalmostempty.Buttotheleft,alargegroup

hadgatheredon thecornerofMaslian’sSquare. Iheaded for themwithone mission in mind: lose the sentinels in the masses. Another groupmergedwiththeoneonthecorner.Andthenanother.Andanother.

A cry went up from behind, “That way!” But it was too late. I wasalreadydeepinthecrowd.

The drums beat ever louder. Bodies surged to catch sight of theSuzerain’s approach. Elbows out, I forced a path in the direction ofMalone’s hideout, searching for Sol. There was a commotion as thesentinelspushedthroughthecrowd.

Headdown,crushedonallsides,Ipressedon.Butitwasnogood.Forevery forward step I took, the crowd forcedme three steps to the side.Bodysurfing themosh pit had never beenmy thing.Claustrophobia hit.Fireworks exploded overhead and massive cheers erupted. With a finalsurge,Iwaspushedforwardandoutintothefrontofthecrowd.

AwidepatharchedacrossthesquaretothestreetthatledtowardtheVelanhall. Lines of guards held back the masses. On the far left, theSuzerain’scavalcadeappeared.

It started with a row of sentinels and then a troop of guards whomarchedinstepwithflagsandpennantsoutstretched.Dancerscamenext.Musicians.Acrobatsandjugglers.TheRubberManfromyesterdayposedonamovingplatform.

Thepeoplewentcrazyaroundme.WhydidtheycheerthemanwhoseplanswouldseeBrakalandenterawarwithnoend?HowdidtheSuzeraindaretofacethepeoplewhenhewasresponsibleforsomuchdeath?Cheeras theymay, no one knew that I stoodwith the one thing the Suzerainmostwantedaroundmyneck—somethingIwouldneverlethimhave.

I scanned the faces in the crowd, searching for someone, anyone,opposedtothismadness.InsteadIcaughtmovementontheoppositesideof the square. A group of guards had broken free of their duties andpursued a figure that dashed along the edge of the crowd. Sentinelsfollowed.

“Sol,”Iwhispered.Iduckedbetweentheguardstoseebetter.Itwasnogood.EverytimeImoved,onesteppedtothesideandblockedmyview.Ijumped,feigninginterestintheparade,cheeringandclappingwiththose

aroundme.Oneguardbrokefromthelinetopushbackamanwho’dsteppedonto

the route. The pursuit across the square became clear. A young mandartedinandoutofthecrowds.Butitwasn’tSol.

ItwasDelane.Theparadeforgotten,Ipushedintotheguards,battlingtogetoutinto

thestreet.“Keepback!”bellowedaguard.Thechasecontinued.Delaneswervedinandout,headingtotheright

andsomehowkeepingoutofreachoftheguardshepassed.Thesentinelsgained speed.Another pack approached from the right.Clearly,Delanehadn’tspottedthem.Hewassprintingrightforthem!

Theflagbearersattheheadoftheparadewerelessthanfiftyfeetaway.Thecrowdwentcrazyandpushedagain.Delanerantowardthesentinels.

Grippedwithpanic,Ireachedintomypocket.MyfingersclosedonthedecimatorI’dsavedfortheSuzerain.Ihadnochoice;Icouldn’tletthemtakehim.Eyesclosed, I saidaprayer.AndthenIcrushedthedecimatorbetweenmypalmsandhurledthespellintothecrowdacrossthesquare.

TWENTY-SIX

Energysurgedfromtheepicenteroftheblast,knockingme,andeveryone

aroundme, off our feet. The drums stopped. Themusic ceased. Chaoserupted.

TerrifiedI’dbecrushed,Iscrambledupasthecrowdbegantoflee.Theguards,many of whomwere also down, battled to hold back the herd.Delanewasnowheretobeseen.

Amanbesidemegotunsteadilytohisfeet.Hepointedashakyfingeratme.“Shedidit!”

Timetogo.Ispunaround.Threeguardsapproachedfromtherear.“Itwasher!”criedtheman,outraged.“Isawherthrowit.Shetriedto

killtheSuzerain!”Guardsclosedintomyleft.Sentinelstomyright.Soonthey’dformeda

wide ring aroundme.Onlookers drew close until a deepwall of bodiessurroundedme.Therewasnowherelefttorun.

One of the guards broke free of the ring. “Is this her?” he shouted,headingmyway.“Isither?”

Anannoyinglyfamiliarvoiceagainrang:“That’sher!Isawit!ShewasaftertheSuzerain!”

Frozen, I didn’t dare speak. I glanced at the sentinels on my right,prayingtheyweren’ttheoneswho’dchasedusfromMalone’s.Iwasinbigtroubleiftheyrecognizedme.

Thecrowd fell silent as anotherguardentered the fray.Hewas tallerwithascarletuniform,whichstoodoutagainsttheotherguards’gray.“Isthis theonewhoreleasedthedecimator?”hedemanded, forcinghiswaytothefront.

“Thisistheone,”saidthefirstguard,againpointingatme.“Then take her!” the leading guard barked. “Make way for the

Suzerain!”Theringofguardsclosedin.Ahandgrabbedmyarm.Asquickasthat,

Iwasunderarrest.Astheyherdedmeaway,theenormityofwhatI’ddonehitme.Inone

stupid moment, I’d blown our entire plan. As if they would ever havecaughtDelanewithallthosepeople!Malonewouldbelookingformetoo—the eye had seen me. It wouldn’t take long for the guards to put ittogether.Andhere Iwas,alone,arrested,andwiththeSolenettaaroundmyneck.

TheguardsmarchedmefromMaslian’sSquaretoacovered,sentinel-drawnwagon.TherewasnosignofSol.

“In,” said theguard tomyright.He flungmeforward.Anotherguardwaitedbythecart.

ItookanotherlookforSol,but,otherthanafewonlookers,therewasnooneonthispartofthestreet. Iclimbedup,slippedbetweenthetarpflaps at the rear of the wagon, and then perched on one of the twobenchesinside.

Thetarpblockedmuchofthesunlight,andtheairinsidewascloseandhotand smelledvaguelyofmildewandsweat.Veeringbetweenstunneddisbeliefandoutrightpanic,IgraspedtheSolenettabeneathmyshirtandprayedforittocalltomeagain,tooffermesomekindofhelp.

How was I going to get out of this? I prayed that Sol or Delane orsomeonehadseenwhathadhappened.Theycouldsaveme.OrBromasta—he’ddefeatedademonarmyontheTheaderyPlains!Bustingmeoutofawagoncouldn’tbesohard.Butwhatiftheydidn’tknow?SolwouldbewaitingformeontheVelanhall’ssteps.Delane,ifhehadanysense,wouldbe sprinting to Vermillion’s as fast as he could. I’d be clapped in ironsbeforethey’devenrealizedIwasmissing.WordwouldspreadofwhathadhappenedatMalone’s.AndthentheSuzerainwouldcomeforme.

Rockingthroughthecobbledstreets,weslowlymadeourwaythroughOrion.Fromtimetotime,theflapsinthetarpcaughtinthebreezeandI’dcatchsightofa sentinelguardingthestepat therearof thewagon. Icrossed“makearunforit”offmydwindlinglistofoptions.

Thewagonstoppedabruptlyandaguardappearedattherear.“Out.”Tall white buildings surrounded a courtyard filled with wagons and

horses,guardsandsentinels.Awhitetowerroseintothecloudsabove.ItwastheVelanhall.

Seizingmy arm, a guard ledme to awooden deskmanned bymore

guards.“We’vegotanother,”hesaid,andhurledmetowardthem.“Crime?”“Releasing a decimator in a public place and within reach of the

Suzerain!”Itdidn’tsoundgoodwhenhesaiditlikethat.Theguardatthedeskwatchedmefrombeneaththickbushyeyebrows.

“Speak!”Butwhat to say? I’d never been in troublewith the cops or even at

school. My attitude to authority was pretty straightforward: Do what’sexpectedofyou,keepyourheaddown,andpeopleprettymuchleaveyoualone.NowIhadtothink—fast.Andthatwasdifficultmid-meltdown.

“Itwasanaccident,”Istuttered.Bushyeyebrowsshotintotheguard’shairline.“Anaccident?”“Yeah.”Iglancedattheguardatmyside.“Itwasinmypocketand...”“And?”askedtheman.“AndIthoughtitwasgoingtogetcrushed.”Iwatchedcloselyforahint

that they were buying my story. It was difficult to tell. Best to keeptalking.“Wewerepackedreallytight.SoItookitouttokeepitsafe,butthisguybehindmepushedand...”

The guard at the desk leaned forward. One of the eyebrows sunk.“Whereareyoufrom?”

Iforcedmyselftoholdhisgaze.“Fortknee.”Itcouldn’thavebeenmorethanacoupleofsecondsthatwestaredeye

toeye.Itfeltlikehours.Ifbrainsweremadeofclockwork,thenthisguy’scogs andpulleysweredefinitelywhirring.His fingerdrummed thedesk.Hismouthtwitchedatthecorner.

“Fortknee,”hesaid.Andthen,withadismissiveshakeofthehead,hebacked down! “I haven’t time for this. Seventeen arrests already today.She’llhavetowait.Takehertothepit.”

Withoutaword,theguardsatmysideforcedmethroughadoorattherearofthecourtyardandintotheVelanhall.

My first thoughtwhenwe stepped insidewas that I’dpassed throughyet another Barrier. Thiswas one of Sol’sworldswithin aworld, a vastconcourse of polishedmarblewith columns that rose to a high, vaultedceiling. The room stretched on forever—it had to run thewidth of theentire Velanhall, at least the length of a city block. In the center lay acrystal-blue pool, larger than the pool at Crownsville High. Water

blossomed from fountains hidden beneath the surface. Two or threehundred people walked here, all of different races. Their voices andfootstepsechoed.

Ididn’tget long to take in the spacebeforeoneof theguards shovedmyshoulderandmarchedmetotheleft,awayfromthepool,andtowardanarrowwoodendoor.

“Stop!”Oneof the guards grabbedmy jacket.Confused, I turned, just as the

guardtomyrightsanktohisknee.Onebyone,everyoneintheconcoursedidthesame.Silence fell.Onlya smallgroupofabout twentyremainedon their feet. They headed toward us, flanked by sentinels and guards.Thenthesentinelsparted.Therestoodatall,thinmandressedinathree-piecesuitofpalegray.

Assoonasthemansteppedforward,thosewho’dwalkedwithhimalsobowed.TheSolenettagrewheavyaroundmyneck.Iresistedtheurgetograbit.

Ithadtobe.Iknewit.FinneusElias.TheSuzerain.I don’t know where he’d got that suit, but it was definitely from

somewhereexpensiveanditwasdefinitelyfromsomewhereontheOtherSide.Heappearedneitheryoungnoroldandhadcroppeddarkhair.Youmighthaveguessedhewasalawyerorastockbroker.Hecertainlylookedoutofplacehere.Hemovedwiththeconfidenceofamanwhodidn’tcarethat everyone watched him. In fact, he looked as if he enjoyed it. Theheelsofhispolishedblackshoesclippedthemarblefloor.

“Sothisistheyoungladywhodisruptedmyparade,”hesaid,hisvoicesmooth and deep. I noticed his eyes—one purple, one gray.Theseweretheeyesofthemanwho’dkilledmymother.“SonowIamrushedbackhere when my people wished to see me on the streets. What is yourname?”

IknewwhatIwantedtoyell—“I’mthesisteroftheboyyousnatched!”Instead, I said, “Poppy Pillows,” then kickingmyself, added, “Fellows.

MynameisPoppyFellows.”Myvoiceechoedoffthemarblewalls.Helookedasthoughhewastryingtorememberthename.“Youdon’t

seemcertain.”“It’sPoppyFellows.”

Thefountainstrickledinthebackground.Theguardsbreatheddeepatmyside.Tensionwasripeintheair.

“YouspeakasanAmerican,PoppyFellows.”Sweat broke out onmypalms.Talking to the guardhadbeen tough,

butthiswasunreal.Icouldn’ttakemyeyesoffhim.“I’maRunner,”Isaid,determined,yetfailing,tokeepmyvoicecalm.“I

spendalotoftimeontheOtherSide.”“As do I,” he replied, seemingly oblivious to everyone around us.

“Poppy,youareayoungandprettyRunner.Whatisyourtrade?”Hehadtoask.Reluctantly,Ipulledmyphonefrommyjacketpocket,

againconsciousoftheSolenettaheavybeneathmyshirt.“I’vegotthis.”Iheldoutthephone.“Itdoesn’twork.”

Elias’s gaze never once leftmy face as he took the phone, flipped itopen,andranhisfingeracrossthebuttons.Thekeypadanddisplaylitup.“Andnowitdoes,”hesaid.

HebegantopaceandIfeltallofus—meincluded—waitingonhisnextword.Myrunawayheartpoundedinmyears.

“You remind me of someone,” he said, and stopped in front of me.“Likethedarkshadeofa little light Ihave found.”Hismismatchedeyesnarrowed. Long fingers reached for a lock of my hair. “I have ways ofmakingpeoplespeakthetruth,Poppy,”hewarned.

HestoodasclosetomeasSolhadbeeninthealleythatmorning,butnowhe turned,his armswide to the crowd,bringingour audiencebackintotheexchange.

Scarcely able to believe I was still standing, I struggled to hold myground.“I’mtellingyouthetruth,”Istated.

“That you accidently released a decimator in Maslian’s Square?” Hespun back tome. “That’s what they toldme. It is difficult to release adecimatorbyaccident,”headded,histonesuddenlychirpyandlight.“Youhave to squeeze them, you see, Poppy.” He clasped his hands tightlytogether.“Youhavetomeanit.”

Thoughhislipswerecurledintoasmile,therewasnofriendlinessinhiseyes.

“Poppy,you’regoingtothepit,”hesaid,andleanedinasifwesharedasecret. “While you’re there, Iwant you to think hard about this tale ofyours.Notleastanexplanationforthis.”

He handed me my phone, the screen still brightly lit. Willie and I

grinned back, red-faced, elated in our Crownsville High volleyballuniforms,thecourtandnetvisibleinthebackground.IlookedbackattheSuzerain.

“Think hard, Poppy,” he whispered. “I look forward to your revisedtale.”Hesteppedaway.“Takeherdown!”

Imoved, following a shove from the guards.Gradually the concoursereturned to life. I felt eyesuponme,not least theSuzerain’s.Heknew.He’dseenthewallpaperonmyphone’sdisplay.WhywouldaRunnerbeplayinghighschoolvolleyball?

Itookonelookbackbeforewelefttheroom.Faracrosstheconcourse,a new group of guards entered the Velanhall. Between them hurried asmall,fatfigure.Myalreadyquiveringheartpickedupitsbeat.Howeverbadmysituationwas,itcouldsoongetworse.

ItwasMalone.

*

The guards escorted me through a dingy tunnel deep beneath theVelanhall.Torchescastflickeringamberlightonthestonewalls.Thescentofearthandmoisturerose.Iconstantlycheckedovermyshoulder,certainI’dcatchtheSuzerainstridingdownthetunnelwithafuriousMaloneonhisheels.

“Faceforward,”snappedoneoftheguards,offeringmeanothershove.My hands balled into fists. I swore I was going to punch him if he

touchedmeagain.Thepassageendedatasquareantechamber.Twosentinelsstoodguard

at a wall of thick black bars. Light from the chamber’s torches barelypenetratedthegloombeyond,butinwhatdimlighttherewas,Icouldseethe jaggedwalls of a rock cavern.Therewas an icydraft.Though IwasgladIworemyjacket,Istillshuddered.

Oneofthesentinelsunlockedthebarsandaguardusheredmeinside.“Get comfortable, Poppy Fellows,” he said. “And don’t forget theSuzerain’sadvice.I’dhavealongthinkaboutwhatyouwerereallytryingtodowiththatdecimator.”

I stepped through without comment, determined not to flinch whenthebarsslammedbehindme.Ifailed.

Avastcavernroseintoblackness,akindofemptynothingness,thetruescale of which I could only imagine.Moisture dripped from above and

collectedinpoolsatmyfeet.Thegroundslopedgentlydown.I took a final look behindme. The guards had gone, but one of the

sentinelswatchedfromthebars.“Sleeptight,”itgrowled.I walked slowly through the corridor of blackness. Far ahead, it was

impossible to tell how far, a light flickered, but reaching it meantnavigating the blindpatch aroundme. I shuffled to the cavernwall andpressedahandagainst thedamprock.With tiny steps, I forgedmywaythroughthedarkness.

Colder drafts brushed past my skin. I imagined visage demons andshadowimpswaitingintheblackness.Wingedharpies,liketheonesatmyfather’shouse, surelyhovered above.Onewrong step and they’d swoopdown,openingmythroatwiththeirrazor-sharpclaws—

Ahandgrabbedmyarm.Iscreamedfromthepitofmygut.“Mia!”Grippedwithterror,Ilashedoutatthearmaroundme.Thenmybrain

latchedontothevoice.Uncertaintyandthenreliefhit.“Sol?”His voice rang again. “It’s me. Stay still.” His hand touched my

shoulder.“Holdontome.There’sanothertorchahead.”I clutchedSol’shandashe ledme through thedarkness and into the

light.A torch, almost burned out, hung from thewall.As soon as Sol’sface appeared in thepale glow, I launchedmyself intohis arms. “ThankGod,”Igasped,andclungontohisshoulders,myfaceburiedinhisneck.His scent washed overme. I held it deep inmy lungs, a magical elixirofferingme strength. It was him. Itwas really him. I reluctantly pulledaway.“Whathappenedtoyou?”

“Igotarrested forattackingthesentinels,”hereplied, reaching formyhands.“Mia,whyareyouhere?”

Itoldhimwhathadhappened.“Adecimator?”hesaid,onceI’dfinished.“I know,” I replied. “They’d almost capturedDelane; I couldn’t think

whatelsetodo.”Icouldn’ttellifhewassecretlyimpressedorifhesimplydespairedthat

I’dcausedsomuchtrouble.Ididn’tcare.Hewasherewithme.Thatwasallthatmattered.

“Thank God you’re here,” I said. “The Suzerain just questioned me

himself! I told him it was an accident, but I know he didn’t buy it.” Ihandedhimthephone. “He just touched itand itcameon.Lookat thephotograph.DoesthatlooklikeaRunnertoyou?”

Ourbackstothedistantguardroom,Solstaredatpicture.“Thisisbad,”hesaid.“I’mprettysuretheythinkIwasaimingforhim.”“Verybad.”“And don’t forget—” I yanked down my collar and flashed him the

Solenetta.Hisshoulderssaggedassoonashesawit.“We’vegottogetyououtof

here,”hesaid.“Whataboutyou?You’reinbigtroubleifherecognizesyou.”“Hewon’t.”“Don’t be so sure. There’s something about him, Sol.When he was

talking tome, itwas likehekneweverything.Or that Iwas ready to tellhimeverything.Whatiftheysearchyou?WhatiftheyseetheLunestral?I’d say the king’s son is a pretty big prize. And it gets worse.” I againchecked for the guards. “Malone’s here. And he looked pissed. If theguardshadn’tdraggedmedownhere,hewouldhaveseenme.”

Solshookhishead.“EvenifMalonetellstheSuzerainwhathappened,there’snoreasonforthemtolinkittoyou.”

“What,notlinkittothegirltheythinktriedtoassassinatetheSuzerain?And what about you? Arrested for attacking sentinels on Malone’sdoorstep!Even if theydon’t linkus, they’re going to tear this city apartlookingfortheSolenetta.”

“Whichwillkeepthemdistracted.”“Forhowlong?”Iasked.“Sol,Eliastoldmeto‘thinkovermystory.’He

saidsomethingaboutdarkshadesandalittlelighthe’dfound.IthinkhemeantJay.”

Solpaused,thinkingovermywords.“There’snowayhecanknowyouandJayareconnected,”hesaid.

“I would have agreed before,” I replied. “Not now.He’s gonna comebackforme,Sol,andIdon’tthinkPoppytheRunnerisgoingtoholdupforlong.Withsomeidiotatthegate,maybe.Butthisguy?I’vegotabadfeeling,Sol.WhenEliasspeakstoMalonehe’sgoingtoknowitwasme.Weknowwhathe’scapableof.Weknowwhathedidtomymother.”

Igesturedtothephone.“I’mnotkidding;hejusttouchedit,Sol,andit

camebackon!Howdoesapersondothat?Thisguy’snotusingmagicorbs—themagiciscomingfromhim!”

“Haveyoutriedtouseit?”askedSol,andhandedbackmyphone.Ipressed the call button and thenheld it tomyear. “No signal.And

anyway.Whowould I call?Willie? She’s bailedme out of a few toughspots, but this is a little too much to ask.” I flipped it shut and thenwedgedthephonebackintomypocket.

“Idon’tthinkit’sasbadasyousay,”saidSol.“Notyet.Thebestcaseisthattheyletusstewforawhileandthenreleaseus.”

“Andiftheydon’t?”Hedidn’treply.Iglancedaround,butotherthandarkness,rock,andthespotoflightat

theguardstation,therewasn’tmuchtosee.“There’sgottobeawayoutofhere.”

“I’velooked,”saidSol.“Thisplaceishuge.”“Therehastobeaway.We’llsplitup.We’llkeeplooking.”“All right.”He reached for the torch on thewall. “Take this.Andbe

careful.”“You’llneedonetoo.”Solpeered into thedarkness, thegold inhis eyes catching the torch’s

flame.“I’llbefine,”hesaid.“What,soyoucanseeinthedark?”“Betterthanmost.”As soon as we set off, I realized that Sol’s description had been an

understatement.Theplacewashugemultipliedby ten.Thedeeper intothepitwewalked,themorechambersandpassagesopenedoneitherside.

“I’m going on ahead,” said Sol. “You check these caverns.Head backwhenyou’redone.I’llfindyoufromthelight.”

Torch hot inmy hand, I headed across the cave to a narrow passageforgedthroughtherock.Waterdrippeduntilsoonmyhairandshouldersgrewdampandthetorchsmokedfromthemoisture.Likeamythologicallabyrinth,thepassagetwistedandturned.Longdeadtorchesoccasionallyappeared,butmostweresodamptheywouldn’tlightwhenIofferedthemaflame.Openingsappearedhereandthere.Alllednowhere.

I don’t knowhow far I’d gonewhen the passage veered into a largerchamber. I held the torch high and checked for an opening or shaft.Nothing. But it was drafty—the breeze had to be coming from

somewhere.Ipushedon,checkingtheshallowpoolsforasignofflowingwater.

Istopped.Atfirst,Ithoughtitwasagutterscampcurledupagainsttherock.But

asIpointedthetorch,Iknewrightawaythatitwassomethingelse.Wide,frightenedeyespeeredoutfrombeneathabrownmopofhair.Tearshadcleaned paths through the grime on his cheeks. I saw the Ridge. I sawCrownsville. I saw thewindow booth atMickey’s piled highwith friedchicken.

“Alex?”Igasped.“AlexDash?”

TWENTY-SEVEN

SeeingAlex, itwas as if the time I’d spent inBrakaland had suddenly

vanished. Alexmeant Crownsville, where lifemade some kind of senseandIwasn’ttheconfusedanduncertainshadowofmyselfthatI’dbecomesince arriving in Brakaland. The past days had been so crazy I’d neverconsideredhow amazing itwould feel to see someone fromhome.Twoworlds collided. Alex was someone I knew—and he was someone whoknewJay.

Iwedgedthetorchintoagapintherockandthencrouchedinfrontofhim.“Alex,it’sme,”Isaid,handonmychest.“It’sMia.MiaStone.FromMickey’s.”

Hewasfilthy,hiseyeswideandwhiteamidthegrime.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”heasked.“I’mstuckheretoo.”Heblinkedacoupleoftimesasiftoclearhiseyes.“Ismymomhere?”Ireachedforhishand.“No,”Isaid,andgaveitasqueeze.“Butyou’re

gonnaseeherrealsoon.Ipromise.”Hissneakersslippedontherocksashestruggledtorise.Hisjeanswere

damp,hisT-shirttorn.Itwashardnottoimaginewhathe’dbeenthrough.“Mybrother, Jay,” I said,myvoice echoingdown thenearbypassage.

“JayStone,fromyourclass.Ishehere?”“Hewas,”saidAlex.Hestilllookedatmeasifhecouldn’tquitebelieve

whathesaw.“Thosebigmuscleguys?Hekickedoneofthem.Thentheytookhimandtheothers.”

Jaywas alive! I tried not to smile, picturing Spud giving a sentinel afirmboottotheshin.ThatwasJay,allright.

“Whendidtheytakethem?”Iasked,shufflingcloser.Alexshrugged.“Doyouknowwheretheytookthem?”“Ithinktothehill,”saidAlex.

IgesturedthatIdidn’tunderstand.“It’swheretheytookme,”hesaid.“Therewasacampandlotsofthe

bigguards.Theymademeholdastone.”Asolen.Ithadtobe.“Wasitlikethis?”Iasked,andshowedhimtheSolenetta.Alex’seyesbrightened.“That’s it!Butonlyone.Andnotasbig.They

madeusholdit,andthentheybroughtusbackhere.”And they’d taken Jay there too. Theywere about to be disappointed

again.I took another look at Alex’s disheveled appearance. “Alex, how did

yougethere?”“Idon’tknow,”hesaid.“IwaschasingBusterandthenIsaw.. .”His

eyesglazed.“Sawwhat?”“Grandpa Dash. But Grandpa Dash is dead. Or maybe—am I dead

too?”“No,”Isaid,pullinghiminforahug.Thiswasn’tthetimeforalesson

onvisagedemons.“AndneitheramI.You’vebeenkidnapped,Alex.Butwe’regonnagetyouhome.Theotherboys too.” I reached for the torchandtookhishand.Alexpulledback.

“YouhavetotakeBenny,”hesaid.Confused,Ishookmyhead.“Benny,”hesaid.“Theydidn’tcomeforhimthistime.”Heturnedfor

thebackofthecave.Iheldupthetorchandfollowed.“Bennydoesn’tcomeoutmuch,”saidAlex,asheledmeintoanarrow

passage.“Hehidesbackhere.Buttheyfindyou.Youcan’thideforeverinthisplace.”

Westoppedatagapintherock.Ipointedthetorchinside.Inacloset-sizedhollow,alittleboywascurledonanestofleaves,the

slimystuffthatcollectsinstormdrainsafterarain.Hewastiny,youngerthan Alex and Jay, barefoot, and dressed in a T-shirt and shorts. Bonykneesandelbowsjuttedfromhispale,wastedlimbs.Hewatcheduswithahalf-open,lethargiceye.Hereekedofdriedvomit.

Stunned, I passed Alex the torch. I squeezed inside and knelt at theboy’sfeet.“AreyouBenny?”Iasked.

“BenGriffin,”theboywhispered.

Irecognizedthenamefromthenews.He’dbeenoneofthefirstboystobe taken. He’d been here for almost six months! Deep, bubbling ragesurgedinsideme.

“Canyougetup?”Iasked,strugglingtokeeptheangeroutofmyvoice.“Don’twantto,”Benwhispered.Hesnuggleddeeperintohisnest.“Bennydoesn’t talkmuch,” saidAlex. “Idon’t thinkhecanwalkvery

welleither.”I shuffledback,hating to leaveBen for evena second,butknowing I

hadnochoice.Thesplinteredremainsofatorchrestedinasconceonthewallcloseby.Isnatcheditdown,handsshakingasIrippedtheshredsofdamptinderfromthecordthatboundit.Aclumpofdrytwigsappearedbeneath.

“Alex,IneedyoutowaitherewithBen,”Isaid,andpokedthekindlingintotheflamingtorchinAlex’shand.“Canyoudothat?”

Henodded.“KeepthetorchupandI’llbeabletofindyou.Don’tmove.”“Whereareyougoing?”heasked.Atearglistenedinhiseye.“Bebrave,”Ireplied.Ileanedinforareassuringhug.“I’mgonnagoget

help.”Adrenalinesawmethroughthereturnjourneytothemaincavern.Two

imagesflashed—oneofBenGriffinwastingawayinfilth,oneofmeontheVelanhall’s concoursewith theSuzerain inmy reach.Whyhad Iwastedthatdecimator in the crowd? I shouldhave rammed the thingdownhisevil throat. But then again, if I’d never released the spell at Maslian’sSquare, Iwouldn’t be here. Iwould never have found Sol andBen andAlex.IwouldneverhavelearnedthatJaywasalive.

IfoundSolprowlingtheareawherewe’dsplit.“I’vefoundtwooftheboys,”Isaid.“It’snotgood.”

WeracedbacktofindAlexstillwaitingatBen’sden.WhenAlexsawthatIwasn’talone,asmileblossomedonhisface.

“ThisisSol,”Isaid,usheringSolforward.“He’sgoingtohelpyoutoo.Andhe’sreallytough,sodon’tthinkhecan’tgetusoutofhere.”

Solshotmeawarninglook.Ishrugged.Iknewitwasabigpromise.Butthesewerekids,right?

I pointed to the gap where Ben hid. Bent at the waist, Sol shuffledthrough.Assoonashewasclearoftherock,Ipassedthetorchintoofferhimsomelight,thenpokedmyheadinside.Asthecrampedspacelit,Sol

droppedtohisknees,Ben’sbodytinybesidehim.“Doyouthinkit’ssafetomovehim?”Iasked.Solwasn’tabout towaitand findout.HegothisarmsbeneathBen’s

emaciatedframe,andthen,asifhewereair,liftedhimfromthenest.“We’ll go back to the main tunnel,” I said, backing up to let Sol

through.“Andthenwe’releaving?”askedAlex.Sol emerged carrying Ben. Seeing them together like that, my voice

caughtinmythroat.“We’releavingsoon,Alex.Let’s justgetBenoutofherefirst.”

Oncebackinthemaincavern,theboyssettledinadryalcoveclosetowhere Sol and I had first talked. Alex took charge of Ben, his chirpywhisperscarryingontheair.Satisfiedtheyweresafe,IledSoloutoftheirhearing.

“Didyoufindawayout?”Iasked.Solshookhishead.Hesimmered;hisjawtense,hisbackstraight.Itold

himeverythingthatAlexhadsaidaboutJay.“ItmustbetheNonskyFault,”Isaid.“Vermillionwasright.He’strying

fortheEquinox.”Solhadnotspokenaword.Heblinkedasifwakingfromadeepsleep.

“I’mgoingtokillhim,”hesaid.Thetoneinhisvoicescaredme.ThiswasasideofSolI’dneverseen.

I’dseenhimangryatwhathadhappenedtothevalley,atthedemons,atMalone.Butneverhadhebeenthismeasured,thisdangerous.

“IfIhavetocalloutthewholeoftheWest,”Solsaid,histoneeven.“IfIhavetoburneverybrickofthisplacedown,IwillkillElias.”

IreachedforSol’shand.“Butyou’dneverdothat.You’dneverhurtthepeoplehere.TheSuzerainknowsit.He’salwaysgotthatoveryou.”

Sollookeddownatmeandalittleofhisangerfaded.“Sol,thatkid’snotgoingtomakeitifwedon’tgethimoutofhere.”AlexstillentertainedBen,pullingfaces,prancingaround,tryingtokeep

whatwas left of thepoor kid’s spirit alive. I caught Solwatching them.Fireburnedinhiseyes.Tearsfellfrommine.

“It’smethatmonsterwants,”Iwhispered.“It’smyfault.”Solpulledme tohis chest, his armswrapped tightly aroundme. “It’s

everyone’sfault,”hesaid.

*

Hoursmusthavepassed,butinthemonotonousgloomitwasimpossibletokeeptrackoftime.I’dwrappedmyjacketaroundBenandhuggedhimclose trying to keep himwarm.Alexwas slumped atmy side, his headresting against my shoulder.We waited for Sol to return from anothersearchofthepit.

Every fewminutes I looked back at the distant guardhouse. In everymoment, IexpectedacommotionandfortheSuzeraintoappear.Sofarthere’dbeennosignofactivity.Buthowlongwouldthatlast?

“Havetheyevenfedyoudownhere?”IaskedAlex.“Breadandstuff.”“Do theybring it in?” I asked,wondering ifwecould rush theguards

whentheyenteredthepitwithfood.“Theyleaveitonatrayontheothersideofthebars,”saidAlex.“And

thentheythrowstuffatyouwhenyoureachforit.”“That’snotverynice.”“They’redipshits,”hesaid.“Alex!”“Theyare.I’mgladJaykickedone.”IrockedBeninmyarmsandagainlookedtothebars.“Metoo,”Isaid.Sol’s flickering torch eventually reappeared. I’d stopped asking

—Anything?—about six hunts ago. Everything I needed to know waswrittenonSol’sface.

“Ihadnoideathisplacewassobig,”hesaid,ashecrouchedbesideus.“It’shuge,”saidAlex.“Simontriedtowalkarounditonce.”“Simon?”askedSol.“Wilkins,”Ireplied.“Oneoftheotherboys.”Stillhunkeringdown,SoltappedAlexonthearm.“Anddidhereach

theend?”heasked.“ThisSimonWilkins.”Alexshookhishead.Solsmiled.“Thenmaybeheshouldhavewalkedbackwards.”AlexhadlatchedontoSoleversincewe’dhookedup.Ithadtakenall

mypowersofpersuasion tokeephimbesidemewheneverSolventureddeeperintothecavern.Nowtheygrinnedlikebrothers.

AlexlookedfrommetoSol.Hescruncheduphisface.“Backwards?”hesaid.

“It’s just something I heard,” replied Sol. “If youwalk backwards for

longenough,you’lleventuallyfindyourwaybacktothefront.”Alexfrowned.“Huh?”“Youshouldtryit,”saidSol,againsmiling.“It’llpassthetime.Keepyou

warm.”Up for the challenge, Alex sprang to his feet. He began to walk

backwardintothecave.“Butdon’t tripon the rocks,” saidSol. “Itdoesn’twork ifyou tripon

therocks.”“Really?”Solshrugged.“That’swhatIheard.”Alex continued with arms outstretched. Soon he’d left our haven of

light.“Alex, you do realize he’smaking this up.” I nudged Sol in the ribs,

thoughinsideIwasgratefulthathewaskeepingAlexamused.Alex’svoiceechoedback.“Iwannasee.Iwanna—”Agargledscreamreverberated.Adullthumpfollowed.Solleaptup.A

secondpassedandAlexreappeared.Hepointedintothegloom.“Something’soutthere,”hecried.“Ittouchedmyleg.”SoldashedinfrontofAlex,guardinghimfromwhateverwasoutthere.

“Didyouseeit?”heasked.“Onlyfelt it,”Alexreplied.HepeekedoutfrombehindSol’sarm,his

headbarelyreachingtheheightofSol’schest.ThecommotionstirredBen.HeraisedhisheadasSolinchedcloserto

thedarkness,allofusonhighalert.Somethingwasoutthere.Away to our left, a low figure scuttled across the rock.A cry echoed

—“wheep,wheep.”“Whatisit?”whisperedAlextoSol.Solpeereddeeperintothegloom.Notamuscleinhisbodymoved.He

sniffedtheair.“Mia,”hesaid.“Ithinkit’safriend.”Igently releasedBenbefore joiningAlexandSolwhere thedarkmet

the light. I squinted into the blackness.Whateverwas out theremovedaround—youcouldhearlooserocksshiftingbeneathitsfeet,followedbyawhistleandthenachirrup.

“Itcan’tbe,”Ibreathed.“Sol,it’smygutterscamp.It’sthesameone.”“Ithinkso,”saidSol.HetookAlex’sarmandtogethertheyretreatedso

asnottoscareitaway.Alone,Icrouchedandreachedahandintotheblackness.“Hey,bud,”I

said.“It’sme,Mia.Rememberme?”Thegutterscampleaptcloser.Lightflaredinitseyes.“How’d you get in here?” I whispered, desperate not to alarm him.

“Comeon,buddy.Iwon’thurtyou.”IglancedovermyshouldertoSol.“Theremustbeawayin,”Isaid.AlexstillpeeredoutfrombehindSol’sarm.“Whatisit?”“It’safriendofmine,”Ireplied.Icouldn’tholdinmysmile.“Itoldyou

we’dgetout.”“Itknowsthewayout?”Outofreach,thegutterscampswayedsidetoside.“Hegotinheresomehow.”Beyondelated,Igotbacktomyfeet.“Wehavetofollowhim,”Isaid.

“Hecanleadusout.”SolwasalreadyhelpingupBen.Alexheadedforthegutterscamp.“Not too close,” I whispered, and I reached for his hand. “Give him

somespaceoryou’llscarehimoff.”Thegutterscampremainedclosetothewall,sniffingatthepuddleson

theground.“What’sitdoing?”whisperedAlex.“Ihavenoidea,”Ireplied.WithBen inhis arms,Sol came toour side. “Gutterscampscan sense

movement through the ground,”he said. “It’s probably just checking fordanger.”

AsifthecreaturehadheardSol’swords, itsneckshotstraightupanditsgazepiercedtheblacknessfromwhichithademerged.Itleaptoffintothedarkness.

“Now,”saidSol.“Quickly.”Isnatchedupthetorchandhurriedafterthem.Westayedasfarbackas

wedared,desperatenottoscarethescampaway,butfearfulthatitwouldvanishintotheblackvoid.Hoperosewitheverystep.Weweregoingtogetout—Iknew it.Therewasnowaywecouldhavecome through theWastes,thevalley,Malone’s,onlytobesnaredlikeratsinatrap,waitingpowerlesslyforthemomentwhentheSuzerainrealizedwhoIwas.

Thegutterscampfroze.“Stop,”whisperedSol.Huddledaroundthetorch,wewatchedasthecreaturerearedontoits

hind legs, its tail outstretched for balance.A clatter of rocks came from

deeperinthecave.“Didyouhearthat?”Iuttered,breathless.“Something’soutthere.”Thegutterscampdartedforthewall.Itclungtotherock,itsgazefixed

inthedirectionofthesound.“Back,”saidSol.HetookthetorchfrommyhandandplacedBeninto

myarms.“Mia,taketheboys.”Forabagofbones,Benfeltprettyheavy.Desperatenottodrophim,I

shepherdedAlexbacktothewall.Aloneinthecenterofthepassage,Solstoodinacircleoflight,hischinraisedasheagainsniffedtheair.

I pulled Ben closer to me, expecting that at any moment some fellcreaturewouldlopeintothelightandtakeSoldownwithasingleswipe.

Sol lowered the torch,hishead tiltingashepeered into thedarkness.Withoutwarning,hedashed forward.Panicked, Ibeganto followbeforerealizingthatIwasholdingBen.I’dbarelyputhimdown,whenasmilingfaceappeared inSol’s light.Certainmymindwasplaying tricks, I froze.DelanesteppedfromthegloomwithVermillion,backtohernormalself,closebehind.

Assoonashesawus,Delane’sgrinwidened.“Wethoughtwe’dneverfindyou,”hesaid,asheandSolhugged.“Whatisthisplace?”

“Elias’sguesthouse,”repliedSol.Idon’tknowwhowasmoreshockedtoseethem,meorSol.Fromthe

lookonhisface,IwaswillingtogiveSoltheedge.“Surprised?”askedDelane.“Relieved,”saidSol.“Andyes,surprised.”I still couldn’t believe it was them. But if it was some kind of cruel

trick,thentherewasnowaySolshouldseethemtoo.Youcouldn’tshareahallucination.

“Idon’tbelieveit!”Isquealed.Idashedintothehuddle,grabbingholdofVermillion as she joined the celebration. I even forgave Solwhen hegaveherabigwelcomehug.

“How?”Igasped.“Thelittlecrittershowedupatthehouse,”saidDelane,gesturingtothe

gutterscamp.“Itwasgoingmad.Iknewithadtobethesameone.I’dseenwhathadhappenedatthesquare.Iknewthey’dtakenyou.”Heshookhishead.“Mia...”

“I know,” I said. “I’m crazy. Should never have done it.What was Ithinking?”

“Iwasgoingtosaythanks,”hesaid.Hepulledmeinforahug.“Itwas for the shadow imp,” I replied, hugging back. “But I still owe

youforthestripe-backs.”Thegutterscamplingeredinthebackground,moreinterestedinabug

crawlingontherocksthanthefactthatithadjustsavedourlives.“Neverfeedagutterscamp,eh?”Isaid,asIsteppedawayfromDelane.“Anactofkindnessrepaid,”Vermillionreplied.I inched toward the creature, expecting him to scamper away as he

alwaysdid.Tomysurprise,hestretchedouthishand.Myfingersgrazedsoftsmoothskin.

“Screes,Mia,”warnedDelane.“It’sworthit.”We touched for a couple of seconds before the gutterscamp pulled

away.Iwishedtherewasawaytosaythanks.“Let’sgetoutofhere,”Isaidinstead.Iturnedfortheboys.“ThisisBen.

Andthisis—”AlexstoodbehindSol,afamiliarexpressiononhisface.Eyesasround

assilverdollars,jawprettymuchontheground,hestaredatVermillion.Irolledmyeyes.“Notyoutoo,”Isaid,andgavehimanudge.“Alex!”Alexcontinuedtogape;hewaslostinVermillion’sworld.“Delane,you’dbettertakehim,”Isaid.“Maybehe’llsnapoutofitonce

we’removing.”Vermillion had already interceptedme. “He can comewithme,” she

said,puttingherarmaroundAlex.Herfingerswenttohishair. “Alittleboylikethiswouldmakea—”

“Idon’tthinkso,”Isaid,horrifiedbythethoughtofAlexendingupinoneofVermillion’sjars.“Hecanstaywithme.”

Delaneledonwiththegutterscampslightlyahead,andSolathissidecarryingBen.

“He ledus through the sewers beneathBloodAlley,” saidDelane. “Awall’scollapseddownthereandthere’satunnelfullofgutterscampneststhatleadstoashaft.TheSuzeraincan’tknoworhewouldhavesealedit.”Hestoppedandthenpointedup.“It’sprettytight,especiallyifoneofushastocarrytheboy.”

Abouttwelvefeetuptherewasablackopeninginthecavernwall.Thegutterscampboundedupandthrough.

“Wehavetoclimb,”saidDelane.“Vermillion,youfirst.”

VermilliontookAlex’shand.Sheledhimtothewall.“Younext,Mia.”“Benfirst,”Ireplied,andusheredSolforward.“He’sbeenherelonger.”Sol had barely taken a step with Ben when a loud clang resonated

throughthepit.Weallfroze.“Thatwasthegates,”saidSol.“They’recoming.Move.Go.”Ashoutboomed.Ijustaboutshedmyskin.“PoppyFellows!”Mystomachturned.“That’sme,”Icried.“PoppyFellows!Makeyourselfknown!”

TWENTY-EIGHT

Putoutthetorch,”saidSol.HethrustBenintoDelane’sarms.“They’ll

see.”We were far from the guardhouse, but already two tiny clusters of

orangelightwerevisiblesomewaybackinthecavern.Panicked, I bashed the torch against the rocks, convinced that at any

momentwe’dbespotted.Itrefusedtodie.“It’s not working!” I said, searching for a pool of water in which to

drowntheflames.“Delane,go.Getthemout.”“POPPYFELLOWS!”Clingingtothewall,almostinreachoftheshaft,VermillionandAlex

clambered upward. “Go!” I begged,wrestling the torch. “Sol, they’ll seeus.”

Secondsspedby.Thewindowforescapewasrapidlyclosing.“There’snotime,”saidSol.“Mia,youhavetogo.”“I’m not leaving you here,” I replied. “Sol, it’sme theywant; if they

don’tfindmethey’llknowsomething’sgoingon.”DelanestillheldBeninhisarms.“Solandun,wewon’tallgetthroughin

time,”hesaid.“Anysecondthey’llseeus.”“Why haven’t you gone yet?” I asked, forcing him toward the shaft.

“There’stimetogetthekidsout.Delane,youhavetohelpBen,butyouhave to go now. If they catch any one of us crawling through that gap,they’regoingtofollow.Wecan’tletthemfindouthowyougotinhere.”

Hedidnotclimb.“Please,” I urged. “Save the kids. Get them to Bromasta—tell him

they’vetakenJayandtheboystotheNonskyFault.”Finally Delane nodded. “All right,” he said. He gestured to his side

whereadaggerhungfromhisbelt.“Solandun,takeit.Useit.”WithBenclutchedtohischest,Delanescrambleduptowardtheshaft.

Imovedawayfromthecavernwall,offeringthesentinelsatargetfarfrom

wheretheothersescaped.Solhungback,close to thewall, thedagger firmly inhisgrip. “I’llbe

rightbehindyou,”hewhispered.“Takecare.”HevanishedintothedarknessbeforeIcouldreply.Torchquiveringinmyhand,Iwalkedtowardthesentinels.“Droptheflame!”commandedoneassoonasIwasinreach.Idroppedthetorch.“Handsup.”Iraisedmyhands.“Nowfollow.TheSuzerainawaits.”ThoughIallowedmyfacetoshownoemotion,insideIscreamed.The

Suzerainhad spoken toMalone.Heknew.But theotherswouldbe safeand thatwas all thatmattered.With Sol somewhere behindme, I gavemyselfovertofate.Inminutes,we’dbefreeorwe’dbedead.

Wepassedthespotofourmakeshiftcamp,passedtheopeningtothepassagewhereI’d foundAlex.TherewasstillnosignofSol.Coldsweatcoveredmyskin.Mybreaths,alreadyshallowandrapid,grewfasterwitheach step. I struggled to focus, concentrating only on the sentinels, thebobbingtorchesintheirhands,andthefastapproachinglightoftheguardroom.Thebarsappeared.Twoguardswaitedbeyond.

“Bringherthrough,”saidone.“She’stobetakentothecouncilroom.”Mygazefixedontheguardashemovedtothelock.Therattleofsteel

againststonefollowed.IfSolmeanttostrike,ithadtobenow;therewasonlysolongIcoulddelaybeforesteppingthroughthatgate.CarefulnottobetraythatSolwasbehindme,Ilookedtotheground,draggingmyheels,countingthesecondsuntilthechancetoescapewouldbegone.

Comeon,Sol!Solflewfromtheshadows.Thefirstsentinelfellfromadaggerthroughitsthroat.Thesecondhad

barely turned when it suffered the same fate. Carnage exploding, theguardatthegateyelledashescrambledforthebars.Toolate.I’dsnatchedthe second sentinel’s torch before it touched the ground. Vaulting itsbody, I thrust the flames at the guard’s hand.With a scream, the guardpulledback.ItwasallthegapSolneededtoburstthroughthegates.

He moved as fast as a sentinel, almost flying, his movements bothpowerfulandeffortless.Onethrustofthedaggerandtheguardatthegatewent down. A leap and the second joined him on the ground. Blood

flowed.Ileaptoverthefallengateguard,joiningSolintheantechamber,ready

tofight.Thegateguardmoaned,grabbingthebarsashestruggledtorise.Facepale,hisfrontsoakedwithblood,hetoppledback,draggingthegateclosedashefell.Hecollapsedtothegroundanddidnotmove.

Idroppedthetorchanddartedforthenowlockedgate.Itwasouronlywaybacktotheshaft.“Sol,it’sabondkey!”

Sol was checking the second guard for signs of life. “Do you see thekey?”heasked.

Franticallyscanningtheground,Ifoundit intheoutstretchedhandofthefallenguard.“It’shere!”

Together,wedraggedtheguard’sbodybacktothelock.Solplacedthekeyintotherecess.Hecovereditwiththeguard’shand.Thelockdidnotrelease.

“It’sstilllocked,”Isaid,tuggingthegate.“Whyisn’titworking?”Theguard’shandfellfromSol’sgrip.Itlandedwithathudonthefloor.

“He’sdead,”saidSol.“Thekeyneedslivingblood.”Iglancedintothepitwherethesecretshaftwaitedforourescape.And

thenIthoughtoftheVelanhall,vastandbustling,aboveus.“We’llnevermakeit,”Iwhispered.

ThefearI feltwasnotvisibleonSol’s face.Hesurveyedtheroom,atthe fallen guards and the blood trickling on stone. “Wehave to try,” hesaid.

Withnochoicebuttopresson,wesprintedupthepassagetowardtheVelanhall,ourstepsechoingbehindus.FreakedbytheSuzerain,I’dpaidlittle attention on the journey down, but Imarked the endless corridorsandpassagesthatopenedaroundus.“It’simpossible.We’llnevergetout.”

“We’vemadeitthisfar,”saidSol.Hestoppedatajunctiontoanotherpassage.Hepeeredaround.“Itgoesup.”

GluedtoSol’sside,Ireachedforhisarm.“Guards?”“It’sclear.”At every junction, Sol stopped and checked the way. The stone

labyrinthstretchedonandon.Itwaseerilyquiet.“Thisisallwrong,”Isaid,aftersixorseventurns.“Theymustknowby

now.Theplaceshouldbecrawlingwithguards.”Slightlyahead,Solslowed.“Iwasthinkingthesamething.”Wepausedinthepassage,Sollookingoneway,metheother.Stillwe

remainedalone.“Whatifit’satrap?”Iwhispered.His back against the wall, Sol fingered the dagger at his side. “Then

we’reheadingstraightforit.”Wesprintedon,theroutegrowingsteeperthefartherweran.Finally,

weturnedacornerandasetofstonestepsrosebeforeus.Awoodendoorstoodatthetop.ThoughI’dwantednothingmorethantogetoutofthisplace,thatdoorsetmymindonedge.Passageswereonething;youcouldseeaheadandbehind.Imaginingwhatsurpriseslaybehindthatdoormademeveryuneasy.

Solstartedtheclimb.GrabbingwhatbreathIcould,Ifollowed.Atthetop,Solplacedhiseartothewood.

“Anything?”“Nothing.”“Maybe it’s locked.” I anticipated us bursting into the Velanhall’s

concourseandhalfhopeditwouldbetrue.Soltriedthehandle.“It’sopen.”Hishandfellasheturnedtome.Sweatglistenedonhisbrow,buthe

wasn’t sucking air likeme.He leaned in andwithout aword planted alightkissonmydampforehead.

“Whatisthis,good-bye?”Iasked,hopingajokemightmaskmyterror.“Itwasforluck,”hereplied.“Ready?”Inodded,shookmyhead,andthennoddedagain.Solpushedopenthedoor.Itappearedtobeanemptyguardroom,abouttenfeetwideandtwenty

long. Eight chairs surrounded a table in the center. Sheets of dappledsunlight,whichenteredthroughthenarrowopenwindowsthatlinedthewalls,brightenedtheroom.Anotherpassagecontinuedonatitsend.

Relievedtohavefoundnothingworseandhungryforfreshair,Idashedtothenearestwindowandpushedmyfaceintothebreeze.Thesunhungin thewest.Orion’swhite stone gleamedbeneathus;we’d comehigherthanI’dthought.Distantsoundsrosefromthecity.

“Wemust be in the base of a tower,” said Sol, at thewindowbesidemine.Hepushedup,tryingtoforcehisbodythroughthegap.

“Areyounuts?”Iexclaimed.Helookedasifheweretryingtojump.“Toonarrow,”hesaid,ashedroppedbackdown.“Toohigh,”Ireplied.“Atleastwe’dbeoutside.”

“Butthat’snotmuchgoodifwe’rehalfwaytothemoon.”Helookedlikehewasabouttosmile.Insteadhefrowned,thensniffed.“Whatis it?”IftherewasonethingI’dlearnedinBrakaland, itwasto

alwaystrustSol’snose.His gaze went to the open door through which we’d entered.

“Demons,”hesaid.Anythoughtofescapingthroughthewindowfledaswedashedtothe

door. A visage demon, with several more behind it, was climbing thestairs.

“Braceit,”yelledSol.I slammedthedoorasSolgrabbedachairandwedged itbeneaththe

handle.Assoonasitwassecure,Igrabbedanotherchairandthenanotherandanother,stackingthemhaphazardlyagainstthewood.

“Whatdowedo?”Ispluttered.“Wehavenochoice,”saidSol.“Wekeeprunning.”We’dgonenomorethanafewstepsbeforethefirstbangcameatthe

door.“Don’tstop!”yelledSol.The passage at the head of the room led to another set of stairs. A

secondroom,identicaltothefirst,appearedatthetop.Onandthrough.Upanothersetofstairs.Acrashsoundedfrombelow.Screechesechoed.

“They’vebrokenthrough!”Ihollered.“Sol!”We sprinted into the next passage.A spiral stone staircase, dimly lit,

waitedattheend.Therewasnootherwayonward.Solusheredmeup.“Go!”IascendedasfastasIcould,myhandsgrippingthewallsasIcounted

the steps beneathmy feet. Twenty. Thirty. All the training sessions I’dskippedinthegymreturnedtohauntme.Mylungsscreamed.

“Keepgoing!”Forty.Fifty.Sixty.Therehadtobeawayout—somewhere!Oraway

backdown!IsuddenlyfeltasIhadintheWasteswhenIrealizedthatthesentinels had herded us there on purpose. Thismust’ve been the same.Therewasnowaytoescape,andthevisagedemonsknewit.

Myheaddown,armspumping, Iwaswatchingmy feet so Iwouldn’ttrip,when I crashed squarely into adoor above.Offbalance, I fell backontoSol.HegrabbedmywaistbeforeIcouldtoppledownthestairs.Withhisfreehand,heyankedopenthedoor.Freshairanddaylightfloodedinto

thetower.Theflightofstairswe’dclimbedcontinuedonthroughthedoor,only

now the steps coiled around the outer wall of one of the Velanhall’stowers.AllIcouldseewasgleamingwhitestone.

“Wecan’tgothatway!”Igasped.Screamscarriedupfrombelow.Hishands tightonmy shoulders,Sol forcedme to look intohiseyes.

“Mia,youhavetotrustme,”hesaid,rapidly.“Tellmeyoutrustme.Sayit.”

Air rushed into the tower like water gushing from a broken dam. Itwhipped our faces and hair. Sol never released his hold, his eyespenetratingmysoul,hisfingerscrushingmybones.Thelookinhiseyes.Was it Sol admittingdefeat? I remembered sittingwithSol on the grassoutsidemyfather’shome,andthenightinBordertownwhenI’dfirstseenthevisagedemonandhadcriedatSol’sside.ButmostlyIrecalledthefirsttime we’d spoken at Crownsville High with radios blaring from theparking lot and students streamingby.ThemomentwhenSol had trulyenteredmyworld.

I glanced down the steps. The demons were drawing closer. I gazedback at Sol, who was watching me keenly, his hands tight on myshoulders.

“Ido,”Isaid.“Ireallydo.”“Thenfollowme.”Hepushedmethroughthedoorwayandoutintotheblusteryair.The

wide,whitestepsspiraledtheVelanhall’stowerallthewaytotheclouds.Itwasn’tthebestidea,Iknow,butIlookeddown.Orionlayfarbeneathus. At least two hundred feet of air separated us from the Velanhall’sroofs.ItwaswhatI’dfeared.Theonlywaydownwasback.

“This isn’t a good idea!” I gasped,my vow of trust already forgotten.Dizzy, I grabbed at the tower’s white stone. Sol brushed past me,continuingtoclimb.

“Justrun!”“Runwhere?”Screechescarriedupthespiralstaircase.“Up!Mia,youhavetomove!”Iran,buttowhatIdidn’tknow.Death?Thatandthecloudswereall

thatwaitedforusontopofthetower.AllI’dwantedwasfortheothersto

getawayandforJaytobesafelyhomeinCrownsville.Iwouldhavegivenanything for that.But regardless of thedangerswe’d so far survived, I’dnever thought that saving Jay might cost me my life. Everything I’dwanted,everythingI’dworkedfor—college,Willie,thechancetojustgetoutofCrownsvilleandbesomething—flashedbeforemyeyesand,justasquickly,faded.Thosethingsweregone.

Thewindkickedandswirledagainstthetower.Wecontinuedupandup.AtleastI’dgetmyviewoftheBrakalandPlainsbeforeIdied.AtleastI’dhaveonelastchancetolookacrossthelandandthinkofCrownsvilleandeveryoneIlovedwaitingsafelyontheOtherSide.

Mylegsheardmyheart.Thoughheavybeyondbelief,theycarriedmeup.The cold air cooledmy sweat andbrought gooseflesh tomy arms. IthoughtofBenGriffinwrappedinmyjacketandprayedthatheandAlexweresafewithVermillionandDelane.Thisfinalflighttowarddeathwasworthit,aslongasIknewthatatleasttwoofthekidshadmadeitout.Iimagined them at home, their parents spoiling them rotten, celebratingtheirreturnwithhamburgersandicecream.

Tears fell as I pictured home and all the stupid things I’d never doagain.NeveragaintastemyfavoritecomboatHarper’sIceCreamParlor?Blackraspberry,chocolatechip,Frenchvanilla...Thiswasn’thowitwassupposedtobe!Butwewerecutofffromescape—nothinginfrontbutadwindlingnumberofsteps,nothingbehindbutdemons.WouldIreallyletthem takeme?Or could I take that leap and put bothmyself and theSolenettaforeveroutoftheSuzerain’shands?

Iranoutofstepstowonder.Afterpassingmeonthestairs,Solhadalreadyreachedthetopof the

tower.Miraculously,hedidn’tseembreathless.HegazedoverOrion,headhigh,shouldersstraight—theKingofBrakaland’sson.

Speechless, panting, I collapsed onto the third step from the top. Ipeeredover the edgeof the tower.Black cloaks swirledbelowus as thedemons mounted the coiling staircase. They streamed in line, twenty,thirty,fortyvisagedemons.NotevenSolandtheLunestralcouldsaveusfromthiscrowd.“They’recoming,”Isaid,mythroatdry.

The first demon appeared about ten steps down. It stopped. I don’tknowhowacreaturewithnofacecouldportraysuchhatred,butIfeltitsdisgust with every ounce ofmy being.Others formed a pack behind ituntilablackwallofbodiessuckedthelightfromthebrightwhitestone.

ThoughIsawlittlepointindelayingtheinevitable,Ishuffleduptothenext stepand tookanotherglance into thevoidofopenair.Butwhen Ithoughtofspreadingmyarms,oftakingthatfinalleap...Icouldn’trise.IwantedmeandSol to live.Theonlywaythatcouldhappenwastogivemyselfup.

Ilookeddownatthedemons.Afamiliarface,repeatedoverandover,gazedbackatme.Thevisagedemonshadseen intomyheart.Only thistime, theyhadn’t found Jay.They’d foundSol.All thewastedmomentsbetweenusswirledthroughmymind.TherealSolwaitedjustafewstepsawayandhereI’dwastedour last fewsecondsthinkingof icecreamandsurrender.

The demons screamed, the collective sound of their call piercingmyears.Iraisedmyhandstoblockouttheircries,thenfroze.

A swath of gray fabric fluttered in the breeze, landing at my feet. Iglancedatthefabric,perhapsaflagliberatedfromtheparadebythewind.Butthenthecolorlookedtoofamiliar.Andwasthatasleevehanginglooseacrossthestep?

Confused,ItwistedtofaceSol.Thenmyeyeswidenedandmyheartleapt.Icouldn’tbelievewhatIsaw.

TWENTY-NINE

Sol’swingsreflectedeveryounceof light.Ingreen,gold,red,andblue,

eachspannedmorethansixfeet.Shapedaseagles’wings, theyformedarigidlinefromhisshoulders,liketwogreatarmsheldouttohissidewithacurtainof feathers across them.Thiswas theLunestral’spower in all itsglory.

Sol stood tall and strong,his bare chest out, hiswide shouldersback.His eyes had blackened and bore into the demons’with the Lunestral’ssteely gaze.Thick red veins—I could see scarlet bloodpumping throughthem—had risen to the surface of his skin. The Lunestral made real inman.

Delane’swordstumbledbacktome.Solandun’snotrarefied.Butthat’sdifferent.

Sol was descended from the dream bird. Its power slumbered in hisblood.Apowerunleashedonthevisagedemonsparalyzedbyhisgaze.

Heheld out his hand. I didn’t take it.Thewind carriedmywhisper.“How?”

Ididn’t expecthim to reply, Imean, itwasn’t even really aquestion,just abarelyevolved thought thathadescapedmy lips. I got tomy feetand inched closer with tiny, uncertain steps. Sol held still and boremygawkingwithgoodgrace,asifheknewitwasbetterjusttoletmesee.Nowordscouldtrulyexplainwhathadoccurred.

Iduckedbeneaththetipofoneofthewings.SoftvanesbrushedagainstmyhairasIpassed.ThewingssprangfromSol’supperbackintheexactplacewherethetattooedwingsmettheLunestral’sbody.Theinkedimageof the dream bird lay between them, but now its wings were real. Hisshoulderbladeshadshifted,rotated,andthemusclesaroundthemfirmlybraced thewings. Two deep gashes had opened along the length of hisback.Eachwasatleastafootinlength.Bloodtrickledfromone.

Solglancedoverhisshoulderandthewingbesidemeseparatedtheair

asitmadeagentlebeat.Hiseyeswereso,soblack—notatraceofwhiteremained.ButtheywerestillSol’seyes.Itwasstillhim.

Iskirtedbacktothefrontofthetowerandlookeddownonthevisagedemons. Not one had moved since Sol’s metamorphosis. It was as ifsomeonehadsimplypulledaplug.Theirmenacingaurahadgone.

“Wereallyshouldgo,”saidSol.“Youmean,fly?”“Unlessyou’drathergobackthewaywecame.”IturnedawayfromthedemonsandscannedSol’swingsfromtiptotip.

Huge.Powerful.“Yousaidyoutrustedme,Mia.”Ilookedoutoverthecity.Wewereso,sohigh...“Ido,”Isaid.Itwasthetimetoproveit.Unsure of the recommended form for flyingwith one’s crush turned

dreambird,Iputmyarmsaroundhisneck.“Likethis?”“You’dhanglikeadeadweight.Ineedtoliftyou.”I clung tight as he sweptme up.Hiswings commenced a slow beat,

castingadeepthrumastheyslicedtheair.Itappedhimtwiceonthebackoftheneck.

“What’sthatfor?”hesaid.“It’sforluck.”Icouldn’thelpbutsmile.Thiswassosurreal,soamazing.MinutesagoI

waspreparingtosaygood-byetoSolandtheworld.NowwehadrisenlikeaPhoenix fromtheashes.Or in this case, aLunestral.Myheartbeat inanticipationoftakingtothesky.

“Okay,”Isaid,andheldtighter.“Likeonaone,two,three?”“Likeonarightnow.”Solmovedwithsuchspeed,Ibarelyfeltusgo.Onegreatleapandwe

wereoffandout.The wind stole my breath. My stomach flipped. Face buried against

Sol’sshoulder,Iscrewedmyeyesshut.ThewhooshofhisbeatingwingswastheonlysoundIheardovertherushingwind.

“Themasks,”saidSol.“They’removing.”Iwanted to look, but thatwould involve openingmy eyes and Iwas

kindofpretending thatwewere stillon topof the tower,orona reallywindystreet.

“Mia,it’sokaytoopenyoureyes.”

Easy for Sol to say; he’d done this before. But was I really going tospend this amazing experience with my head buried in his shoulder? Itightenedmygripandpeekedopenaneye.

Orion lay far beneath us, itsmain thoroughfares cutting like runwaystoward the outer gates. The black veins of darkened alleys threadedthroughthecity’sheart.BeyondthewallsspreadtheBrakalandPlains,theroad to Bordertown a pale ribbon in a patchwork of brown and green.Forests grew in the distance, themountain I’d seen from the valley layhazy beyond. I could see how far that mountain actually stood fromWelkin’sValley;ithadseemedmuchcloserfromtheground.

Though it remained difficult to breathe against the rushing currents,fromoverSol’sshoulderIcouldseethatwe’dalreadysunkbelowthetopsof the towers. The visage demons spiraled back down the steps of theMorningstar tower, theirblackcloaksstarkagainst thewhitestone.SoontheSuzerainwouldknowwe’descaped.

“Can you findVermillion’s?” I asked. Itwas only then that I noticedSol’s labored breathing. Knowing it couldn’t be a good sign, I held ontighter.“What’swrong?”

“Mywingsaremeantforone,”hereplied.“Thenweneedtogetdown!”“I’mlooking.”Though we descended smoothly, the rapidly approaching rooftops

mademystomachflip.Alittle like intheWastes,thesoundsofthecitypoppedintolife.Clearamongthem,atollingbell.

“DoesthatmeanthesamethingitdidinBordertown?”Iasked.“They’vecalledouttheguard.”“Thentheymustknowalready.Sol,thedemonssawyourwings.Elias

willknowwhoyouare!”ThebeatofSol’swingsslowedandagainwedippedlower,theground

clear beneath us. We were close to the wall, east of the gate I’d firstentered, but far from Orion’s main streets. Sol straightened. His legspushed down, and we dropped onto a shadowy, deserted courtyardbetweenatightclusterofbuildings.Assoonaswelanded,Solgentlyputmedown.Thenhedroppedtohiskneesandloweredhishead,hisbreathsdeep.

Ikneltbeforehimandcautiouslytouchedhisshoulder.“Isitalwaysthisbad?”

“It’s flyingwith two,”he repliedbetweenbreaths. “Givemea secondandI’llbefine.”

“Takeaslongasyouneed.I’dbedeadifnotforyou.OrinfrontoftheSuzerain.Or...”

Helookedup.Someoftheblacknesshadalreadyfadedfromhiseyes.His wings lowered. They softly swept the ground. Looking at him thisway,my heart skipped a beat. I didn’t care that the bell tolled or thatwindows overlooked us on all sides. I saw only Sol. I finally saw himcomplete.Hewasbeautiful.

“Whydidn’tyoutellme?”Iasked,droppingmyhandfromhisshoulder.“I thought it best to stay quiet after theway you handled thewhole

‘king’sson’thing.”“Thatlittlething?”“Yes,”hesaid.“That.”Hisbreathsnownormal,theblackstill fadingfromhiseyes,heshook

hishead.“I’mBeseye,Mia,”hesaid.“Butnotrarefied.”“Few are. The Beseye were the first to abandon the pure lines and

minglewithotherbeings.”Iglancedathiswings.“But...abird?”Hands on his thighs, he took a couple more deep breaths. “The

Lunestralwasabird in formonly. Itwasa spirit, a forceofnature.TheBeseyewerecommunicatorsandtheirstrongsensesallowedthemtolinkwiththosespirits,thespiritsofanimals,beasts.”

“AndtheLunestral’sspiritenteredallofthem?”“Some,” he said. “Other Beseye linked with different spirits—spirits

fromthesea, the forests, themountains.Thisallhappenedthousandsofyears ago. A spirit bond sometimes skips generations only to reappearyearslater.Butmyfamily’slinehasalwaysrunstrongwiththeLunestral’sblood.”

“Whichiswhyyouhavethosegorgeouswings.”Itshouldhavebeenweirdtobekneelingwithaguywhoseverybeing

was linked toanothercreature,whosewings carpeted thegroundbehindhim.Butitwasn’t.Bird.Man.Whatever.Itdidn’tmattertome—thiswashowhewassupposedtobe.TheSolfrombeforehadbeenperfect.Nowhewas more than perfect, more than the mythological creature from thebookhe’dloanedtome,morethansimplytheking’sson.

I kissed him before he could say anything more. I tried to puteverythingIwantedtosayintothatkiss.Ididn’thaveanywordsleftthatcouldexplainwhathemeanttome.Hewasmydarklight.

Hishandsgrazedmyface,myhair,myneck.Needingustobecloser,Icrawledontohislap,holdinghimsotightIwasn’tsureIcouldeverletgo.Hisskinbarebeneathmyhands,Ifelthismusclesbeneathhiswings,thefeatherscaressingmyfingersasIstrokedhissmooth,tightskin.

Sol responded tomy touchwith increasing fervor.Raisinghimself uponhisknees,heheldmybodyinanunbreakablehold.Hislipsmovedtomyearandthenmythroat.Thisfeltsoright.Myhandsentangledinhishair,Iknewwehadtostop,butstoppingwashardwhenSol’severytouchledtothepromiseofmoreandmoreandmore.

“THEYLANDEDOVERHERE!”Thenwestopped.Itwasaman’svoicethathadcalled.Myfacehot,mybreathingshallow,Ipulledawayslightly.“Wheredid

thatcomefrom?”IwhisperedintoSol’sear.Soldidn’tmove.Hislipslingeringbeneathmyjaw,thesideofhisface

pressedtomine,Ifelthisbreathonmyskinashespoke.“Thenextstreet,Ithink,”hesaid.

Wescrambledtoourfeet,checkingallaroundforasignoftheguards.Butitwasn’tguardswhowatchedus.

ThoughI’dnotnoticedherwhenwe’dlanded,acrossthecourtyardsata woman on a stool washing clothes in a large tin tub. She was older,maybe inher fifties, andwas a little rotundwith oneof thosematronlychests that burst out all over and refused to be constrained by anythingmadebyman.Stillscrubbing,shelookeduptothesky,thenlookedatSol.Sheharrumphed.

“It’salongtimesincewe’veseentheLunestralinOrion,”shesaid.Realizingthatthewomanknewwhatthewingsmeant,IglancedatSol.“It’sbeenhere,”hesaid,hiseyesnarrowing.“Onlyhidden.”“THISWAY!”“Thatsoundedcloser,”Igasped.IgrabbedSol’sarm,knowingwehadto

move, confused why he stood here humoring some old lady and herlaundry.

The woman leaned forward on her stool. “There’s no love for theLunestralinOrionthesedays,”shesaid.“Bestputthosewingsaway,lad.”

Shewas so right. Solwas a deadman if they caught him; he’d fully

revealedhimselfasoneoftheking’sline.“SOMEWHEREDOWNTHESESTREETS!”Thewomangottoherfeet.Shewipedthesudsfromthefrontofher

dress. “Get in here.” She jerked a thumb toward the house behind her.“Youcanhideuntilthey’vegone.”

Withgreatrelief,weslippedintothetinyhouse,leavingthewomantoher laundry and the guards who suddenly swarmed onto the courtyard.Weenteredintoasmall,squareroom.Awindow,drapedwithyellowingnetcurtains, lookedoutoverthestreet.Safelyoutofsight,Ipeeredintothe courtyard. The guardswalked toward thewoman,who remained athertub.Shewaspointingthemtowardtheneighboringstreets.

“She’ssendingthemaway,”Iwhispered.Relieved,Ileftmypostatthewindow.“Thatwastooclose.”

Sol’sheadwasbowed.Hiswingsslowlyretreated.“Doesithurt?”Iasked.Henodded.Withhisheadlow,hewastheimageofafallenangelwith

theworldonhisshoulders.IwishedtherewassomewayIcouldlessenhispain.

“Andwhentheycomeout?”“Notasmuch,”hereplied.I crept behind towatch thewings retreat.Hismuscles twitched and

clenchedastheyclawedthembackintohisbody.Abouttwofeetofeachremained. As the feathers retracted, they flattened, folding in and overthemselvesasifapowerfulvacuumsuckedtheairfromtheirvanes.Itwasclearfromthisclosethatpocketsoneithersideofhisspineheldthewings—hisentirephysiologydifferent—andthatitwasthemusclesinhisbackthatkepttheopeningsshut.Asthegashesslowlyclosed,Irememberedhisbloodiedshirtonthenightofthedemonattackinthevalley.

“Thisiswhyyoudidn’tcomeintotheden,”Isaid,asIwanderedbacktofacehim.“AtBromasta’s.Afteryoureleasedthedecimatorthatnight.”

“Delanedidn’tthinkyouwerereadytosee.”“Hewasprobablyright,”Ireplied.“AndhereIwas,worriedyou’dfall

offtheroofandbreakyourneck.”Hesmiled.“I’mgoodonroofs.”His transformation complete, we crept back to the window. The

woman still talked with the guards and was giving them hell, if hergestureswereanythingtogoby.

“Mia,neitherofuswantedtokeepthingsfromyou,”saidSol.“Butyouunderstandwhyitwasbetterthatwedid.”

“Iunderstand,”Isaid.“I justwantedtoknowyou—therealyou.Istilldo.”

“Iwasbornwiththisblood,”saidSol.“It’spartofwhoIam.”“Thenyou’vealwaysbeenthisway?”“Not always,” he said. “The change doesn’t manifest until seven or

eight,whenthewingsbegintodevelopinside.You’reisolatedassoonastheprocessstarts,mainlytocountertheotherchangesthathappenthentoo. Your senses sharpen and it’s disorienting, dangerous for a while.BeseyewhosharetheLunestral’slinegatherwhenthechangeiscomplete.Ifthewingsarestrongandtrue,thentheLunestral’smarkislaterappliedtotheskin.”

“Thetattoo.”“Yes,”hesaid.“TheLunestralisthemarkofmyfamily,andnowisalso

the symbol of the king. But it’s only those with the Lunestral’s blood,thosewiththewings,whowearthetattooontheirback.”

“Yourparentsmusthavebeenproudwhenithappenedtoyou,”Isaid.“Itwasexpected.”Outinthecourtyard,theguardsfinallyleft.Thewomanheadedforthe

house.“Hereshecomes,”saidSol.The door banged and the woman entered. “Tyrants,” she muttered.

“Suzerain?There’sthejoke!He’sineverypartofourlives.Boilacabbageandhe knows about it.” She brushedpastme and then snatched a blueshirtfromachairinthecorner.“It’smyson’s,”shesaid,tossingittoSol.“Itshouldfit.”

Solcaughttheshirt.“Iwon’tforgetthiskindness,”hesaid.“NotforgettingthoseofusinOrionisthanksenough.”“You’renotforgotten,”saidSol.Another harrumph from the woman and it was back to business.

“Whichwayyouheaded?”“TheShefferDistrict,”saidSol,ashepulledontheshirt.“Then you’re in luck. I sent them off toward Bembam Road. But I

wouldn’t hang around too long.They saw you comedown.They’re notgoingtogiveuptheirsearchanytimesoon.”

Fullydressed,Solheldouthishand.“Thankyou.”

The woman glanced at Sol’s hand before wiping her own down thefrontofherdress. “Here’sapromise,” she said,andproudly tippedbackherhead.“I’llshakeyourhandonthedaytheSuzerainisdead.”

*

Vermillionthrewopenthefrontdoorthesecondweknocked.“Thebells,”shesaid,usheringusintothesafehouse.“Theguards!Wedidn’tknowiftheywereforyou.Iamtoooldforthis!Iamtooold!”

“I’mgladyoumadeitbacksafely,”saidSol.“Yes,”saidVermillion.“Throughwaterandfilthand—”Delane darted out of the kitchen.He snatchedme up into his arms.

“Youarecertainlynotboringtohavearound!”“Thekids?”Iasked,assoonasmyfeettouchedtheground.“They’refine.Gosee.”Alex greetedmewith a hug. I’m sureBenwould have too if I could

havepriedhimawayfromthehugeplateoffoodbeforehim.Colorhadalreadyreturnedtohischeeks.

“We have to get Jay,” I said, as soon everyone had gathered in thekitchen.

SollookedtoAlexandBen,andthenquicklyglancedaroundtheroom.“Where’sBromasta?”

Ipaused.I’dbeensorelievedtobebackinonepiece,Ihadn’tnoticedhewasn’tthere.IcaughtalookpassbetweenVermillionandDelane.

“He’sgone,”saidDelane.“Gone?” I blurted. “You mean he couldn’t even stick around long

enoughto—”Delaneshookhishead.“TotheNonskyFault.”Stunned,Ipulledback.“Alone?”“HeleftassoonasItoldhimaboutJay,”saidDelane.“Wecouldn’tstop

him.Andnow the gates are bolted and they’re not letting anyone in orout.Idon’tknowwhatheplanstodo,butherodeoutjustintime.”

Whatheplannedwasobvious:asuicidemission.VermillionhadtoldusthecampwasheavilyguardedandBromastahadgonetherealone!WithAlex and Benmissing from the pit, the Suzerainwould know someonehadrescuedthekids.Everyguardunderhiscommandwouldbeheadingtothefaulttosecuretheotherboys.IknewBromastahadbeatenElias’sdemonarmy,butIwasbettinghehadn’tdoneitsingle-handed.He’dbe

killed;itwasassimpleasthat.Andjustwhenhe’dcomebackintomylife.“Wehavetogoafterhim,”saidSol.Iagreed.“Butwe’llnevergetpastthegates,”saidDelane.“Thenwe’llusetheDownPass,”Solreplied.Vermillionheaded to the jar-lined shelves. “Ihaveabondkey for the

pass.”Delane was still not convinced. “But we’d need horses to reach the

fault.Wecan’ttakehorsesthroughtheDownPass.”“Leavethehorsestome,”saidVermillion.Shereturnedwiththebond

keyinonehandandasquatblackjarintheother.Sheslammedthejaronthetable.“Numbersix.”

Iwasn’tsurewholivedinjarnumbersix,buthavingseenVermillion’stransformationsItrustedsheknewwhatshewasdoing.

“Do we have more decimators?” I asked, feeding off the energy thatsparked in the room.EvenBenhadcaught thebug.He jiggledatAlex’sside,ahunkofbreadclutchedinhishand.Thiswasit.WeweregoingforJay.

“Mia,there’saboxofdecimatorsbeneaththeshelves,”saidVermillion,pointing toward the jar-filled alcove. “Delane, you’ll find a torch for thepass in theclosetbeneath the stairs.You’llneedweapons too.Fetch theswords.”

I hurried to the shelves to find a small wooden chest containingdecimators. Vermillion handedme a leather pack, which I immediatelybegantofillwiththespells.

Myheartpounded,butthistimeitwasn’tfromfear.Itwasexcitement,exhilaration. I couldn’twait to see Jay! But evenmore so, Iwas proud.BromastaRheinhold—myfather—hadracedofftosavehisonlyson,eventhoughhemusthave knownhe’d standno chance against a camp filledwithsentinels.

Delaneburstbackintotheroom,havingretrievedtheswordsfromtheupstairs bedroom. There was a torch wedged beneath his arm. “Whatabouttheboys?”heasked.

Iglancedover toBenandAlex,whohoveredbySol’s side.A sinkingfeeling enteredmy gut.One of uswould have to stay behind towatchthem,anditwasprettyobviouswhothatsomeonewouldhavetobe.WeneededVermilliontousethebondkeyforthepassandtofindushorses.

SolandDelanewerethemuscle.Thatleftme.Sol took his sword from Delane and then looked back to where I

lingeredattheshelves.“We’lltaketheboyswithus,”hesaid.“You’vegottobekidding,”Iexclaimed.“It’stoodangerous.”Sol’sbrowlowered.Thelinesonhisforeheaddeepenedashefrowned.

Inoticedthattheroomhadfallensilent.“Wehave theSolenetta,” he said. “We’ll find Jay and theother boys,

thenuseittoopentheBarrierweaknessatthefaultandgetyouallbacktotheOtherSide.”

IcouldfeelDelanewatchingme.Vermillion, too.Solwasserious.Ofcourse he was serious. Why would we wait even a second longer inBrakalandwhenthechanceformeandtheboystoescapewasstaringusintheface?I’dknownthismomentwascoming—itwasallI’dwantedwhenI’dsteppedthroughthatwalloflightwhatseemedlikeamillionyearsago.Butnow?

“WhataboutBordertown?”Iasked,myvoicecaughtsomewhereinthebackofmythroat.Icouldn’tlookatanyonebutSol.

“Mia,wewon’tmake itback toBordertown,”he said. “Especiallynotwiththeboys.Thisisyourchancetogohome.”

Vermillion and Delane hurried the boys out of the room. Sol and Istaredateachother,atanimpasse.Hewasright.Bordertown?We’dnevermake it.The time toescapeBrakalandwasnowand thekey toopeningthe Barrier hung aroundmy neck. But somewhere insideme,my heartclungtothetimeImighthavewithSolonthejourneybacktotheRidge.Duringthosedayswecouldhavetalked,explainedtoeachotherhowwefelt, and then said a long and fitting good-bye before the Barrier closedbehindme.Inmymind,itwasallplanned.Butnotlikethis.

Delanepokedhisheadbackintotheroom,breakingthetension.“Wehavetogo,”heurged,“beforeEliassendsmoreguards.”

Solhastilylefttheroom,leavingmewithDelane.“Thisisit!”hesaid.“That’sright,”Ireplied.Ireachedformyjacket,whichBenhadlefton

thebackofhischair.“I’mgoinghome.”

THIRTY

WescurriedthroughOriontoadesertedbazaarclosetothecitywall,a

street of pale stone lined with empty stalls and strewn with crates. AcloakedVermillionledustoastallabouthalfwaydown.

“TheDownPasswasbuilt for smugglers,” she said, checking tomakesurewehadn’tbeenfollowed.“Usuallyforbringingthingsin.”Sheduckedbehindthestall.“Passmethekey,Mia.”

ItookthekeyfromthepackandthenfollowedVermillion.Shetossedaside amoldy old rug and knelt by a trapdoor.Therewas a space for abondkeybesideit.

“Delane,lightthetorch,”shesaid.ThelockclickedassoonasVermillioninsertedthekey.Shethrewback

thedoortorevealsteeplydescendingstonesteps.Delanehadbeenright:Wewouldneverhavegottenhorsesdownthere.

“This is it,” Vermillion said, pocketing the key. “I’ll meet you at theotherend.”AfterrufflingAlex’shair,shedisappeareddownthestreet.

Delaneledwiththelittorch.IfollowedwithAlexandBen.Sol,attherear,closedthetrapdoorbehindus.Weproceededtofilethroughalong,deep passage. Graffiti covered the walls, most in a language I couldn’tread. There were symbols and motifs, crests and insignias, and somesketches thatdescribedonly too clearlywhat the artist really thoughtoftheSuzerain.

ItriedtothinkonlyofsavingBromastaandJay,butnothingcoulddriveSolfrommythoughts.Everythingbetweenushadonlyjustbegun.Nowitwouldendtoosoon.

I guess we walked for about fifteen minutes, mostly in silence. I

respondedtothefewthingsDelanesaidwithone-wordanswers.Ididn’ttrustmyself to say anythingmore. Ben and Alex seemed to be holdingtheir own, but occasionally I looked back at Sol, barely visible in theshadowsattherearofthepack.

We stopped at another set of steps leading to a second trapdoor. AssoonasDelaneunlatchedthelock,weemergedintowhatremainedoftheday.Westoodontheoutskirtsofawood.Orionwasfarbehindus.Birdssang.Itsoundedlikeafuneraldirgetome.

Freeofthecity,IwaitedwiththeboysasSolandDelanewhisperedofftotheside. Itwasas ifwe’dcomefullcircle,backtothedaysof“Don’ttellMia.”Itnolongermattered.WewereonourwaytorescuingJayandthatwasallIneededtoknow.

We’d been there for a while when the sound of hooves approachedfromthewest.Worriedwe’dbeenfollowed,Igrabbedtheboysandpulledthemdeeperunderthecoverofthetrees.Oncetheyweresafelyhidden,Icreptbacktotheedgeofthewood.

Amounted sentinel, a horse tethered on either side, cantered towardSolandDelane.Surprisingly,neitherraisedtheirswords.ItwasonlywhenthesentinelreachedthemandscarlethaireruptedfromitsbaldheadthatIrealizedwhy:ThiswasVermillion’snumbersix.Thesentinel’sshouldersnarrowed, and Vermillion appeared, her long limbs bare beneath thesentinel’stunic.Shedismounted.

Iroundeduptheboys.“Okay,”Isaid.“Timetogo.”TheyrushedouttogreetVermillion.Alone,Ilingeredamongthetrees,

notwantingto leavebutknowingthateverysecondwewastedcouldbeJayorBromasta’slast.WhenI’dstoodbeforetheSuzerain,evenwhenI’dlearned what those veins in the Solenetta truly were, I’d never felt ascondemnedasIdidnow.Iwastornbetweentwoworlds:Jayinone,Solinthe other.Crownsville.Brakaland. I hated themboth in thatmoment. Iwantedonlyoneworld,onethatwasjustformeandSol.Guilthit—hard.Jay was in danger. And I wanted those things I’d told Sol I wanted. IwantedJayback.Willie.EvenPete.ButIwantedSol,too—theonethingIcouldn’thave.

A twig snapped behindme. Sol had followedme into thewood.Hewaitedsomedistanceaway,hisfacedevoidofexpression,butIknewhimtoowellnownot to recognize thesubtlehintsofemotion.Hisarms tootense at his side.His gaze focused—too focused.The tiny twitch of the

musclesinhisjaw.Solwashurting,justasIwas.Thiswas it.Our finalmoments alone.Thechance forme to tellhim

how I really felt. The birds sang. The breeze rustled the leaves in thecanopyabove.AndIcouldn’tthinkofasinglewordtosay.

“Areyoureadytoride?”heasked.“YoushouldprobablyridewithBen,”Imuttered.“Probably,”saidSol.Hedidn’tmove.Didn’tflinch.“ButIwanttoride

withyou.”

*

DelanehadoncewarnedmeaboutSolandhorses.We’dsoonoutstrippedthe others. I clung to him tightly as the ground steadily rose toward ahilltop campmarkedwith tents. Beyond the camp rose a secondhill. Itwas taller than the first,with awhite stone arch as high as a two-storyhouseonitspeak.TheNonskyFault.Peachytintsfromthestartofsunsetstruckthearch’sstones.

On thehill closest tous, sentinels swarmed theencampment.Amongthem,alonefigurefought.

“Sol,faster!”Solmusthavenoticedthebattletoo,forI’dbarelygottenoutthewords

whenhespurredonthehorse.Wegallopedupthehillside,Sollowoverthehorse’sneck,hisswordalreadydrawn.

IcouldnowseeBromastaclearly.Atleasttwentysentinelssurroundedhim.Icountedsevenoreightalreadydown.AnotherfellasBromastadrewhisbladeacross its gut.Theharder the sentinels fought againsthim, thefaster Bromasta’s sword flew. I’d never seen anything like it. He wasunstoppable.Mydad.

Sol slowed the horse. “Wait here for the others,” he said. “Hide theboys.”

Idroppeddownassoonaswestopped,openedmymouthtowishhimluck,butSolhadalreadygone.

Itcouldn’thavebeenmorethanaminutebeforetheothersarrived,butstanding alone it felt like eternity. “Delane, get up there!” I yelled.“Hurry!”

DelanepassedBenandthebagofspellsintomyarmsasVermillionandAlexdismountedtheirhorse.

“Wecan skirt thecamp,” saidVermillion.She slappedDelane’shorse

ontheflank.“Go!”Dustfromthedryearthswirledashetoreaway.Abandoningherhorse,

Vermillionpointedleft.“Upthehill.Thisway.Quickly.”Keepinglow,weheadedforatentonthecamp’sperimeter,littlemore

than a utilitarian tarp anchored to a wooden frame. Vermillion duckedinside.“It’sclear,”shesaid,holdingopentheflap.“Boys,hurry.Mia,youtoo.”

Screams and snarls rose to my left. The clash of steel echoed, but Icouldn’t see the fight beyond the city of tents between me and thebattleground.

“Look after the kids,” I said to Vermillion. Armed with the pack, Isecuredthestrapacrossmyshoulders,whichbolsteredmycourage. “I’mgoingtofindJay.”

If it had been Sol or Delane, they would have stopped me. NotVermillion. In her long battle against the Suzerain, she knew thatsometimesagirljusthadtotakeaction.

“Thenbecareful,”shesaid.Herscarletlashesgrazedhercheeksasshelookeddown.Shesmirked.“Solandunwillkillmeifanythinghappenstoyou.”

Ipaused.VermillionknewaboutmeandSol?Wasthatwhatshemeantwith that smirk? I couldn’t imagine Sol spilling his guts to her. It reallywasn’this style.Andwe’dbeenprettycareful tokeepquiet aboutwhatwashappeningbetweenus,especiallywithBromastaaround.“YouknowaboutmeandSol?”Iasked.

Vermillion gasped inmock outrage. “I’m Simbia,Mia!” she said. Shewinked.“Ismelleditonhisskininthemomentyouenteredmyhouse.”

Theflapsfellshut.Vermilliondisappeared.Ismiled.SoIhadtwopriorities:nottogetcaughtorkilled.Asmuchas

Iwantedtocheckthebattle’sprogress,doingsowouldprobablyputmeonafasttracktooneorboth.Stooped,Idartedtenttotent,notdaringtoshoutJay’snameandattractthesentinels’attention.EverytentIcheckedwas empty. But the kids had to be somewhere—Alex had been sure ofthat.

I tore across a gap between a tent and a larger canvas pavilion, andcaughtsightofthebattle.Icouldn’tseeBromasta,butSolfoughtaclusterofsentinelsonthefringe,takingdowntwointhefewsecondsIwatched.Delane,deeperinthemelee,felledanother.

Iscannedthelargerpavilion.That’swhenIsawthehut.Itstoodontheperipheryofthecamp,awoodenshack,itsonewindowbarred.Ithadtobetheplace.Anticipationrose.Everythingelseforgotten,Isprintedoverandpeeredthroughthewindow.

Sixtinystallslinedtheinterior—threeoneachside—eachwithabolteddoorandasmallbarredwindow.Therewerenoguardsinside.Icheckedthedoor.Therewasneitheralocknoraspotforabondkey.

Disappointed,knowingtherewaslittlechancethesentinelswouldleavetheboyssounguarded,Iopenedthedoor.

“Jay?”Iwhispered,notexpectingaresponse.Silence.“Jay?”Nothing.I’dbeensosurethiswastheplace; itwastheonlysturdybuildingI’d

seenintheentirecamp.Whereelsecouldtheboysbe?“Mia?”Apair of small, disembodiedhands appeared at thebars tomy right.

Anotherpairappearedontheleft.“Who’sthere?”calledavoice.“Getusout!”criedanother.Stunned,Idasheddoortodoor, lookingdownthroughthebarstosee

faces I recognized from the TV and newspapers. Simon Wilkins fromCrownsville.Darryl Someone fromMarkhamCreek. Itwas really them!Likeacrazedactivistsetlooseinananimallab,IslidtheboltsasIwent.Iguess the Suzerain saw no need for bond keys in a camp this heavilyguarded.Hewasmistaken.

“JAY?”I slid the last bolt. Jay launched out of his cell and into my arms.

Overwhelmedwithrelief, Icrushedhimharderthanamagiciangrindingsolensforgrains.

“Whatareyoudoinghere,Mia?”“Icameforyou!”Icried.Hisvoicemuffledagainstmy shoulder,hecouldbarely squeezeouta

word.“Allthisway?”“Allthisway.”Ipushedhimback,checkinghimfor injuriesormarks.

He seemed fine. Time rewound and I was back in Crownsville, tearingthroughthecornfieldwiththemulticoloredlightdancinginthenightsky.

“Jay,whydidyourunfromthehouse?Didn’tyouhearmeyell?”He shrugged—a total, one hundred percent, that’s my Jay, shrug. “I

don’t know,” he said. “I saw—” His expression turned distant, and Iimaginedhismother—ourmother—beckoningtohimbetweentherowsofcorn.

“Iknowwhatyousaw,”Isaid.Theboyshadgatheredaroundus,facespaintedwithjoy.Someofthem

hadbeenhereforalmostas longasBen. Icouldn’t imaginehowitmustfeelforthemtobefree.

“Isthiseveryone?”Iasked,notwantingtoletgoofJay’shand.“There’sAlexandBen,”saidJay.“Buttheydidn’tbringthemwithus.

Ben’ssick.Ithinkhe’s—”“He’shere,”Isaid.“Alextoo.”Jaypulledback.“Yougotthemoutofthepit?”Helookedtotheothers,

alwaysaleader.“ThisisMia,”hesaid,allpuffedup.“Mysister.”Thentome,withatouchofawe:“Thepit?Really?You?”

“I had help,” I replied, charmed. “And we’re gonna need more of itbeforewegetoutofhere.”

Simonshuffledcloser,alittledazed.“Wherearewegoing?”Iofferedhimafriendlynudge.“We’regoinghome.”

*

Skirting the battle alone had been tricky. Navigating it with five newlyliberatedboyswasbeyondchallenging.

“You’vegottokeepdown,”Ihissed,forthetenthtime.“Who’sfighting?”whisperedDarryl.“Somefriends,”Ireplied.“Andtheywon’tthankusifwe’respotted.”Wecrouchedbehindthelargetentedpavilionclosetothehut.Itwasa

littletooclosetothebattleforcomfort,buttheonlyplacelargeenoughtooffercoverforsix.Butwecouldn’tstaythereforever.SomehowIhadtoget the boys safely back to Vermillion. And there was the fight, too. Icouldn’t stand not knowing what was happening to Sol, Bromasta, andDelane.

“Can’twefight?”askedDarryl.“You’renotgoinganywherenearthatmess.”“Iwannaget’em.”“Well, forget about it,because it’snotgoing tohappen!” I crawled to

theendofthepavilionandpeeredout.The three guys raged amid a great mass of sweaty, grunting beasts.

Blood soakedDelane’s torn sleeve.Solducked as a sentinel swung a fistaimedforhishead.

My heart stopped. Another beast approached him from behind. Solsteppedback, right into itspath.Bromasta’swarning cry rang across thecamp.Sol turned.Heeffortlesslyswunghisbladeat thesentinel’s leg. Itcollapsed.

Idrewbreath,butitwasjustatemporaryreprieve.Theguyscouldn’tkeepthisupforever.

“Howdoesitlook?”Jayhadcreptupbehindme.Hecrouchedatmyside.“Likethey’retotallyoutnumbered,”Isaid.“Wehavetodosomething.”Whatthatwas,Ihadnoclue.Iputmyheadinmyhandstothinkand

noticedmypackatmyhip.Ilookedattheboys,eagerlyawaitingournextmove.Theanswerbecameperfectlyclear.

*

“There’s to be no funny business,” I said to the boys as they huddledaroundme.“YoudowhatItoldyoutodoandyoudoitonlywhenIsay.”

“Gotit,”saidJay,withanod.“Gotit,”repeatedtheothers.“Okay.”Itookadeepbreath.“Everyoneready?”Fiveheadsnodded.“Thenheregoes.”Heart pounding, I stepped out from behind the pavilion. “HEY!

MORONS!”Thesentinels turned likeapackof rabidbeasts.Sol’seyeswidenedas

he spottedme. Igestured forhimtomove.When itwasclearhedidn’tunderstand,Iopenedmyhandandflashedthedecimatorinmypalm.Asthe sentinelsmovedenmasse towardme, I caught sightofSol grabbingDelane’s arm. The two retreated, slashing the sentinels in their path. Icouldonlytrustthey’dtakeBromastawiththem.

Heart still racing andnot in the slightestbit convinced thatwecouldpullthisoff,Icrushedtheorbbetweenmypalmsandlauncheditintotheoncomingpack.Thefirstlinewentdownintheblast.

“NOW!”Iscreamed.The boys scurried from hiding.One by one they pitched their spells

into the chaos. Themore they pitched, the faster I handed them spellsfrom the bag. Jay pitched a killer, right into the path of five furious-looking sentinels.They toppled likepins to the ground.Theblastsweredeafening.Theflasheswereblinding.ButtheboysandIkeptonuntilthelastdecimatorhadbeenthrownandsilencefelloverthecamp.

NowSol stalked the fallen,his sword ready,his figurehazy amid theclearing dust. Most of the sentinels were out cold. Some groaned andstruggledtotheirfeet.Itwastimefortheguystofinishthejob.

“Okay,” I said, turning to the boys. “Everyone back. You are notwatchingthispart.”

A collective groan rose from the group, but therewas noway I waslettingabunchofkidswatchthefull-blownslaughterIknewwastocome.To my relief, a distraction soon appeared. Vermillion, half-clad in thesentinel’stunic,hurriedtowarduswithAlexandBenatherside.IwenttocoverJay’seyes.

“Wesawit,”shesaid.“Theyhadnoideawhatwascoming!”Icouldn’thelpbutsmile.“Weren’ttheygreat?”“Andbrave,”saidVermillion.Hergazeturneddreamy.Sheviewedthe

boysliketheywerearackofdesignerclotheslaidoutjustforher...andherjars.

Guessing any one of the boyswould happily donate awhole head ofhairtoVermillion’scollection,IpulledJaycloser.Heshruggedmeoff.Itwasn’t Vermillion who’d caught his interest. He peered across thebattlefield,eyessquintingthroughtheswirlingdustandsmoke,towhereBromastacheckedforsurvivingsentinels.

“Dad?”I’dbeengrinningsinceourvictory.Nowmysmilefaded.Ididn’tknow

howJaycouldhavepossibly rememberedBromasta,but, clearly,hedid.Freeofmygrip,he torebetween thebodiesof the fallen, vaulting theiroutstretchedlimbs.Ididn’tstophim.

“DAD!”Iwatched, stunned,asBromasta finallyheardhiscall.He loweredhis

sword. A smile appeared. The weary years he carried on his face werewipedaway.

“Jaylan!”

Unaware of anything around them,Bromasta scoopedup Jay as if hewere air.Their greeting couldn’thavebeen anymoredifferent frommyandBromasta’sfrostyfirstmeetinginVermillion’skitchen.

I took a couple of hesitant steps, wondering if I should join theirreunion.Somethingheldmeback.ThiswasJay’smomentandIdidn’tfeelapartofit.

Withthelastofthesurvivingsentinelsdispatched,Solapproachedme.“It’s good that Jay remembers,” he said.He looked fromBromasta to

me.“Isn’tit?”“Iguess,” I replied. Ididn’tknow.Theadrenalinethathadcarriedme

through the battle drained tomy feet and then seeped into the ground.Onlyemptinessremained.

“Weshouldmove,Mia,”saidSol.“Beforemoresentinelsarrive.”Solralliedthetroops.Onebyone,theyheadedofftowardthearchon

the second hill. At the front of the pack, Bromasta carried Jay on hisshoulders,hisswordinJay’shand.OnlyIlaggedbehind.MyreunionwithJayinthehutsuddenlyfeltflat.Jayshouldhavebeenonmyshoulders.Heshouldhavebeenlaughingandjokingwithme.Iwastheonewho’dspentsixyearstakingcaringofhim!Iwastheonewho’dgonethroughhell togethimback.IwantedtotellhimallthethingsthatIdidn’tsayenoughinCrownsville—thathewasthebravest,coolestkidI’devermet.ButIdidn’tthinkanythingcouldtearhimawayfromBromasta’sattention.Especiallynotasisterjealousofherownfather.

Itwasridiculous.IknewSolwouldlaughwhenIconfessedallthislater.He’dtellmeIwascrazy.He’dsayIwas—

Istopped.Therewasnolater.I looked to the arch, now an ominous beacon. These were my last

minutesinBrakaland.MylastminuteswithSol.HewalkedwayaheadwithDelane.“Oh,God,”Iwhispered,andpickedupmypace.“Sol!SOL!”Ionlygotafewfeetbeforeavoicecalledout.Ashivertraveleddown

myspine.“Notsofast,MiaRheinhold.”

THIRTY-ONE

MynameisMiaStone,”Isaid,andIturnedtofacetheSuzerain.

Ihadnoideahowlonghe’dbeenthereorwherehe’dcomefrom.Thinair?Ididn’tknow.Hestoodabouttwentyfeetaway,stillinhisthree-piecesuit, oblivious to the carnage around him and the sulfurous odor thatlingered from thedecimators. I staredhimdown.What else could Ido?Therereallywasn’tanyplacelefttorun.

“Thatwasimpressive,”hesaid,ashestrodegracefullytowardme.“ButIcan’tallowyoutostealmytreasuressoeasily.Comewithmenowandwecanavoidmorebloodshed.Iamamanofpeace,Mia.”

Peace?Solhadoncecalledhimamanofpersuasion.Hiswordsdidn’tpersuademe.

“Tellthattomymother,”Isaid.HeknewwhoImeant.He’dcalledmeRheinhold.Itdidn’tfazehim.I wasn’t sure if the others had noticedmy absence. In a way, it was

betteriftheyhadn’t.Eliaswouldshedtheirblood.Minewastoopreciousforhimtowaste.

“IknowofyourescapadesinBordertown,”hestated.“IknowwhatyoustolefromMasterMalone.IwanttheSolenetta,Mia.”

Andyet,Iremainedunmoved.IwantedSol.Didn’tmeanIwasgoingtogethim.“Iwon’tcreateyourEquinox.”

“Itrulydoubtthere’sanythingyoucandotostopit.”Idefiantlykeptmysilence.“Yourchoice,Mia,”Eliassaid.“Pleasedon’ttestme.”Iheldmyground.Nowastheonlyanswerhewasgoingtoget.Elias slowly nodded. “Then rise,” he commanded, surveying the

sentinelsathisfeetforthefirsttime.“Risewithflameandfury.”Smokerosefromthesentinels’bodiesandsparksignitedtheair.Oneby

one,thefallengottotheirfeet.Flamesburstfromtheirskin.Theheatwasintense. The stench of burning flesh, atrocious. Flanked by his flaming

army,Eliasagainfacedme.Smokecoiledabouthisbody—palesmoke,thecolorofhissuit,asifitemanatedfromthefabric.Thenfireburstaroundhim,theairaflame.Thegrassathisfeetignited.Itshriveledtoblack.

“Comewithme,Mia,”saidElias.Thesentinelsmovedasone.Beneaththeflamestheirfeaturesmelted.

Fleshbecamebone.Ichokedonthescentofbillowingsmoke.Sothiswastobemydeath.Iwouldn’tgivemyselfuptohim,noteven

to save my own life. Everything the Suzerain had done to me and myfamily, whether he knew it or not, had created the person who stoodbeforehim.Aresilientpersonwhowouldfacehisfireandnotgivein.

“Mia,”saidElias,hiswarningclearinhistone.IstaredEliasintheeyes.“I’dratherburn.”The sentinels advanced. Littlemore than ten feet separatedme from

their flames.AfewstepsmoreandIwouldgetmywish.Readytomeetmy fate, I closedmy eyes, said good-bye to theworld, and took a stepforward.

Atleastthatwastheplan.I’dbarelyliftedmyfootwhenIwashauledback from the army of fire.Disoriented, and sprawled on the ground, Iscrambledtomyknees.Bromastafacedthesentinels,swordinhishand.

“Never,Elias!”heyelledovertheroaringflames.“TurnyourgazefrommydaughterorIwilltakeoutyoureyes.”

The Suzerain did not reply. He opened his arms and the line ofsentinels parted. From Elias’s limbs, a fiery torrent flew at Bromasta.Throughthesmoke,IsawBromastagodown.

AcrycamefrombehindmeandSol,Delane,andVermillion,herhairstreaming like a river of blood, sprinted toward the battle, their figuresblurrythroughtheshimmeringheathaze.

I could reach Bromasta first, if I could just get through the fireunscathed.Eliascouldn’ttakehim—notlikethis.Toprotectus,he’dgivenuphischancetoseehischildrengrow.Icouldn’tlethimgiveuphislife,too.Ilaunchedmyselfintotheflames.

“DAD!”Flamesroaredaroundus.They’dcaughtthesleeveofBromasta’sshirt

andhad seared thehairon the sideofhishead. Ibowled intohisbody,wrestlinghimbackfromthefire.

“Mia,no!”myfathergasped.I turnedmyback to the Suzerain, shieldingBromasta’s body,waiting

forthemomentofagonyasmyskinbursttoflame.Itdidn’tcome.Insteadadeepcoldspreadfrommyneckandintomylimbs.Sharperthanbitingice, it coursed through me with the force of rushing white water. Notdaring to let go of Bromasta, I felt the Solenetta’s power growing witheach second.Voices sang from somewhere inside it. Itwas the song I’dheardatMalone’s,onlythistimeIunderstoodthewords.ItwasthevoiceofBalia,thepartofmeinheritedfrommymother’sblood.Itsangofthesolens—the sunstones—birthed in the southern deserts. It wanted theheat.Itdranktheheat.Itwouldnotbeconqueredbyflame.

Its words strengthened and guidedme. Answering its call, I tore theSolenettafrommyneckandhelditouttothefire.Windsofflamecoursedintothestones.ThesongoftheBalianssoared.

IwishIcouldsaythatIknewwhatIwasdoing,thatdeepdownsomeunderstandingexistedbetweenmeandtheSolenetta.Icouldn’t.Iheldonfordearlife,bolsteredbytheknowledgethatBromastahadbrokenfreeoftheflames.Myfatherwassafe.

The Suzerain’s furious roar shook the camp. Still the Solenettaabsorbedtheheatofhisattack.

Bromasta’svoicerangout,“Finishit,Mia!”IlookedatEliasthroughthefire.Isawthesentinelsfrozenbeforehim.

MygripontheSolenetta loosened.Mymusclesrelaxed.IenvisionedtheSuzerainconsumedbyhisownfire.

The Solenetta heardme. A ball of vibrating light formed aroundmyhand and the stones spat back the power that they had absorbed. Atornado of flames tore at Elias. His screams shook the hilltop. Thesentinelsexplodedinawaveofash.Thewalloffireflaredandthenit,andtheSuzerain,disappeared.

Stunned,Istaredattheringsofcharredgrasswherethearmyhadjuststood.Eliaswasgone.Hewasreallygone.Forgood?Ididn’tknow.Dead?Ihadnoclue.Buthe’ddisappeared.

I fell back, the Solenetta dormant in my outstretched hand. Jayappearedbesideme,hiseyeswidewithawe.

Unabletobelieve itwasover, IwaitedforEliastoreappear.Slowly,Irelaxed.Itwasover.TheSolenettawasagainjusttheSolenetta.Noburns,nomarkstoucheditssurface.Itsveins—myveins—glistenedasalways.

“Ineverknewitcoulddothat!”saidDelane.“Meneither,”Ireplied.

SolandVermillionhelpedBromastatohisfeet.“You’rehurt,”Isaid,rushingtowardhim.“Hewouldhavekilledyou.”Smokewafted fromBromasta’s arm, the skin on one side of his face

painfully scorched. “But for you,” he replied. He held out his hand toshake,justasI’ddonetocallourtruceinVermillion’skitchen.

I stared at Bromasta’s outstretched hand, picturing Jay triumphantlyriding our father’s shoulders after the battle. I remembered the goofyportraitofmethathecarriedinhiswornnotebook.I’dalwaysthoughtoffathers in terms of what they did, ticking off the points for every gooddeed—holidays, birthdays, cheering from the bleachers at soccer andbaseball.ButBromastahadneverbeenthereformeorJaythroughanyofthattime.Insteadhe’dgivenusachancetolive,hadthanklesslydevotedhimself to keeping us safe, while he’d stayed here alone to fight forBrakaland.Isawhissacrificesasiftheylayinhisoutstretchedhand.

“Youwanttoshake?”Isaid.Ilaughed.“Areyoukiddingme?”Ithrewmyselfintomyfather’sarms.We stayed thatway for the longest time. In threedays I’d gone from

hatingamanI’dneverknowntoembracingmyownfleshandblood.Hewasrealandhewasmydad—Icouldn’taskforanythingmorethanthat.

“Weshouldmove,”saidDelane.“Thosefireworksaresuretobringoutmoreguards.”

Thenthiswasit.IpulledawayfromBromasta.“Youallhavetogetoutofhere,”Isaid.“Quickly.”

“Let’sseeyousafelybackfirst,”Bromastareplied.Vermillionheadedofftowhereshe’dusheredtheboystosafetyatthe

baseof the secondhill. I looked forSol.He’dhungback sinceEliashadvanished, and hadn’t spoken a word. Now he’d taken charge of Jay,leading him toward Vermillion and the other boys, Delane jogging tocatchupwiththem.Timetickedaway.

“Ican’tstay,”Isaid,asIwalkedwithBromasta.Iwasn’tsurewhoIwastryingtopersuade.

“Norshouldyou,”hereplied.“Youhavealifeelsewhere.”“Imean,whatwouldIevendohere?”Iadded,unabletotakemyeyes

offSol.“Ican’tfight.AllthatwithEliaswasjustafluke.”Bromasta stopped me with a touch on the arm. “Mia, you have the

hardest jobof allofus,”he said. “Youhave toguard theSolenetta.YouhavetotakecareofJaylan.”

“Andyou?”“Backwest there’smuch tobedone,”he replied. “Elias is gone,but I

doubtifit’sforgood.Wemustpressthisadvantage.Andquickly.”Sol would probably go there too; they’d waited so long for an

opportunitylikethis.“You have the parler stone,” said Bromasta. “Petraeus will show you

howtouseit.”“I’lluseit,”Ipromised.“I’mproudofyou,Mia,whetherthatmeansanythingtoyouornot.”“Itmeansalot.I’lltrynottoblowit.”“Youwon’t,”saidBromasta.“OfthatIamquitecertain.”Hesmiled,a

propersmile,aswideastheonehe’dofferedtoJay.“Nowgoandbewithyourfriends.Wecan’tlingerforlong.Delanewasright—moreguardsarecertaintoarrive.”

JayhadturnedbackforBromasta.IpassedhimasIhurriedtocatchuptotheothers.Thatwasonegood-byeIdidn’twanttosee.“Quickasyoucan,”Isaid.“We’vegottomove.”

By the time I’d reached the base of the second hill, Sol was alreadymarching thekidsup to thearch. Ihalfhoped,halfwondered ifhewastrying toavoid sayinggood-byeasmuchas Iwas.Paranoid that I’d starttheEquinoxbeforewespoke,ItuckedtheSolenetta,whichwasstillinmyhand,safelyintomyjacketpocket.VermillionandDelanewaitedformeatthebottomofthehill.

“Ready?”askedDelane,whenIreachedthem.“Ithinkso.Takecareofyourself.”Delanegrinned.“Never.Don’tforgetaboutus.”“As if that’shumanlypossible.Let’shug it outbefore I cry.” Ipulled

himin,myBrakalandbuddy,theguySolhadthoughthadmeantmoretomethanjustanamazingfriend.Lookingback,itwasinsane.

Ourhugcomplete,IhungbackforJay,whobroughtuptherearwithBromasta. They walked hand in hand, Jay chattering away aboutsomething I couldn’t hear. Jay’s facewas upturned, the look in his eyesalmoststarstruck.Ihatedtobreaktheirmoment.

“Ready?”Isaid,offeringmyhandtoJay.Hedidn’t take it.Heshuffledcloser toBromasta,hisgazecast to the

ground.“Jay,Iknowit’shard,”Isaid,hatingtoseehimthisway.“Butwehave

togo.”Jay lookedup, frowning,hishand tight inBromasta’s grip. “Iwant to

stay.”Nothing thathadhappenedcouldhavepreparedme for thosewords.

OfcourseJaywouldcomehomewithme; I’dcomeheretorescuehim,thethoughtofhimsafelybackinCrownsvillewastheonlythingthathadkeptmesane.

“Jay,youcan’t,”Iprotested.“You’vegotschool.”Jay’smouthsetandIknewitmeanttrouble.“Jay,”Iwarned.IlookedtoBromastaforhelp.“Miaisright,”saidBromasta,softly.“It’stoodangeroushere.Youhave

togowithyoursister.”“ButIdon’twanttogoback,”saidJay.HeheldtighttoBromasta’sarm.

“Dad,Iwanttostaywithyou.”AssoonasJaysaidthosewords,thelookonBromasta’sfacechanged.

He’dbeensoftwithJayyet,atthesametime,seriousandfirm.Nowhelookedashehadwhenwe’dspokenofmymotherinVermillion’skitchen.I caught tears welling in his eyes and panicked that all the emotion ofbeingapartfromhissonwasabouttobereleased.

“Jay,”Isaid.“LetmetalktoBromastaalone,okay?”“I’mnotleaving!”“Jay,”Isaid.“Please.”Jayshuffledreluctantlytowardtheotherboysatthearch.“This can’t happen,” I said to Bromasta, as soon as Jay was out of

earshot.“Youhavetomakehimunderstand.”“I’mnotcertainhecanunderstand.”“Justthinkaboutit.Whatonearthwouldyouevendowithhim?”Bromastasighed.HelookedtoJaywithadistantexpressiononhisface.

“I’dtakehimnorth,”hesaid,asifhewasn’tevensurehimself.“Solander’ssoldiersprotectthelandthere.It’swell-guarded.Safe.”

“Butthenwhat?”Bromasta’seyessoftened.Itwasas ifhesawit,heandJaytogether,a

realityhe’dneverconsideredpossible,nowinhisreach.“Fromtherewe’dheadwest,”hesaid,andnodded.“Ifweveersouthatthemountains,we’dbe far from Elias’s battlegrounds. From there we can reach Solander’scourt.”

“Butyousaidyoudidn’twantusatthecourt!”

“ThesedaystherearefewplacesassafeasSolander’scourt,”hereplied.“Ihavefriendsthere.Few,butloyal.”

IlookedatJay,whowaitedasifthewholeworldlayonhisten-year-oldshoulders.IthoughtofhislifeinCrownsville—hisbaseball,hiscomputergames,StaceyAnnBaker.Hehadallthat,yetsomethingalwayshadbeenmissing.Allthekidwantedwastobewithhisfather.Onlyinourfamilycouldthatbelikeaskingforthemoon.

Ipaused, trying toconjureBromasta’svisionof Jaygrowingup in thesame way that Sol and Delane had in a king’s court. Was that what Iwantedforhim?

ButwhenIthoughtofSolandDelane,IrealizedthatwasexactlyhowIwanted Jay to be—brave, selfless, smart. I was certain that if BromastathoughthecouldgetJaysafelywest,thensafelywestthey’dgo.AndwhobettertoprotectJaythanthelegendaryBromastaRheinhold?Besides,wasCrownsville really any safer? IfEliaswasalive,heknewaboutme.Howlongbeforehesearchedforusagain?

Myreservationscollapsedbeneaththeweightofonesimplerealization:Icouldn’tmakeJayleavethetwothingshe’dbeensearchingforhiswholelife—BromastaandBrakaland.

“Ican’tbelieveI’magreeingtothis,”Iwhispered.“Ifyouhaveanydoubts,Mia,thenhewillleavewithyou.”“Idon’tdoubtyou.Ijust...”Isighedandlookedintomyfather’seyes.

“Idon’tdoubtyou,”Irepeated.“ThenIwillbreakthenewstoJaylan.”BromastaheadedforJay.Ilingeredforasecond,tryingtogetmyhead

aroundhowquicklylifehadonceagainchanged,tryingtoimagineafutureinCrownsvillewithoutJay.Bromastahadsurvivedalltheseyearswithouthim.Somehow,Ihadtodothesame.

Iturnedforthehillandthenstopped.Solwaitedaboutsixfeetaway.Ididn’tknowhowlonghe’dbeenthere,

butassoonasIsawhim,myheartraced.“Youheard?”“Iheard.”“DidIdotherightthing?”“Hebelongswithhis father,Mia,”hesaid,approachingme. “This isa

chanceforthattofinallyhappen.”“I know,” I said, andmeant it. “Butwould you trust Bromasta?With

Jay,Imean.”

Solrespondedwithasubtlenod,hisgazeneveronceleavingmyface.Hereachedformyhand,ourfingerslinking,handspalmtopalm.

“Then I guess that just leaves you and me.” I squeezed his hand astightlyasIcouldandbattledthetearsIknewwereabouttofall.“Sol,I...”

Hisfingerscametomychinandhegentlyraisedmyfacetohis.“Mia,I’mcomingwithyou.”

IknewI’dheardhimwrong.Therewas justnoway.Hewasgoingtoheadwest,likeBromasta,topresstheadvantagefollowingElias’sdefeat.

“ToCrownsville,”hesaid.“You’reserious?”Iwhispered,stillgrippinghishand.“Pleasedon’ttell

methisisajoke.”Hesmiled.“Idon’tbelievewe’veseentheendofElias,Mia.Hismagic

ispowerful.UntilIseehisbody,Iwon’tbeconvincedhe’sgone.Youneedsomeonetolookoutforyou,morethanjustPetraeus.Atleastuntilthingscalmdown.”

SolwascomingwithmetoCrownsville!Iwasn’tgoingtolosehim.Notyet.

“Wehavetomove,though,”hesaid.“Didyouhearthehorns?”I hadn’t heard anything but Sol telling me he was coming back to

Crownsville.“They’recoming,”Isaid,regainingmysenses.“BromastaandJay!They

havetogetoutofhere.”WerantotheotherswhereIscoopedupJayforthehugofalifetime.

“No swords,” I said, crushing him against me. “And no more kickingsentinels.I’mserious.”

“I’llbegood,”saidJay.“AndI’llmakecertainofit,”addedBromasta.Afterseeinghimtakeon

thesentinels,Ibelievedhim.“Nowgo,Mia.You’llhearfromus.Often.”ThoughIknewI’ddonetherightthing, lettinggoofJaywashard.A

hornblew.“ContactPetraeusassoonasyou’resafelyaway,”saidSoltoBromasta.“Themomentwe’reclearofOrion,”Bromastareplied,hisarmaround

Jay.SolandIwalkedtothearch.Smilingattheboys,ItooktheSolenetta

frommypocket.“It’stimetogohome.”Coloredmistswirledunderthearch.TheEquinoxwasbeginning.

The otherswatched from the bottomof the hill.Orion, aflame fromthe light of the setting sun, stood far beyond. A brigade of mountedguardsmentoreacrosstheland,dustchurningintheirwake.

“Barrier’s open, Mia,” said Sol. He stepped through the veil ofbrighteningmulticoloredlightthatfilledthearchway,theboysathisside.Theyvanished.

MygazesettledonBromastaandJay.“Good-bye,”Iwhispered.TheEquinox strengthening, I slipped into the shimmering lights, and

emergedinafieldinthemiddleofnowhere.

*

Thesamesunloweredinthewest.Brakalandwasgone.“Iwantmymom,”saidBen.“Where’smymom?”IwishedIknew.IstaredatthespotwhereBromastaandJayhad last

stood.Therewasnohill in sight. In fact, therewasnothingbutacresofbrowning pasture and a dilapidated barn in a neighboring field.Nevertheless,IpicturedBromastaandJay,VermillionandDelane,andthesentinelschargingfromOrion.Didtheygallopwesttowardthisveryspaceinaworldwithinaworld?

“Mia,theSolenetta,”saidSol.“TheBarrierwon’tclosewhileit’sinyourhand.”

Ispunaround,awareofthelights,whichspreadrapidlyintothesky.Ipushed theSolenetta intomypocket.TheEquinox retreated, the colorsfadingbeforetheyfinallydisappearedas ifabsorbedbytheearlyeveningair.

Thekidswaitedinahuddle,lookingtousforthenextmove.Slowlyitsankinthatwewereback.Andinthemiddleofafield.Inthemiddleofnowhere.Withsixkidswhoweredependingonustogetthemhome.Sixkidswhohadsuddenlyreappeared.

“Wedidn’tthinkthisthrough,”Isaid.“Sol,whatthehellamIgoingtotellthecops?”

“I’mthinking,”saidSol.Hisgazerestedonthebarnintheneighboringfield.“TellthemyouwerelookingforJayontheRidgeandthatyouwerekidnappedtoo.Thatyoufoundyourselfhere.”Hepointedtothebarn.“Inthere.”

“That’smystory.”Irolledmyeyes.“It’llwork,”hesaid.

I stared at the barn. It was half falling down, hardly the lair of theinfamousCrownsvilleKidnapper.

“Don’tmentionme,”saidSol.“It’llonlyconfusethings.”“Andifthekidstalk?”“Who’dbelievethem?”hereplied.“Especiallyifyousticktoyourstory.

Get themaway fromhere.Make it look like you’ve escaped.Get a fewmilesandthencallthepolice.”

“Andwhataboutyou?”Iasked.SolwasinhisBrakalandgear,asoutofplacehereasIfelt.

“Youcandoit,Mia.”Hekissedmyforehead.For luck. “I’llbewaitingforyouinCrownsville.”

Therewasnothingleftbuttoputtheplanintooperation.Iralliedthetroopsbefore leading themoffacross the fieldand towardwhat Ihopedwascivilization,allthetimegettingtheboysstraightonthestory,warningthem that no onewould believe that theyhadbeen inBrakaland.Afteraboutamiletrek,wefoundaroad.Wefolloweditforamileorsofartherbeforewestopped.Asignstoodonthegrassyshoulder.

CROWNSVILLE:60MILESWas that how farwe’d come? Through Bordertown, theWastes, the

valley,Orion.Sixtymiles.Itookoutmyphoneandplacedacall.Thecopspickedusuptwenty

minuteslater.

THIRTY-TWO

Anhourpassed.Thentwo.Thenthree.Stillthecopsdidnotreleaseme.

Theyenteredinandoutofthehospital’sprivatewaitingroomwhereIsat,a never-ending stream of nameless, frantic faces. Only Sheriff Burkettrefused to leave my side. He’d arrived about an hour after we’d beenpickedup,astonished,almostbewilderedbythenewshe’dpickeduponthe wire. Pete hadn’t reported me missing. Now word of mydisappearancehadexploded.

“We’re trying to track down Pete, Mia,” said the sheriff. “Just hangtight.”

Oh,Iwashangingtight.Nighthad longsincefallenoutsideandan imageoftheroomwith its

nondescriptpaintings,softlamps,andoverstuffedarmchairswasreflectedinthewidewindow.Twoworlds.Onesolidandreal,oneexistinginsomekindofdreamyhaze.

“Try not to worry,” the sheriff added. “As soon as we catch thekidnapper,we’llfindoutwherehe’sholdingJay.We’llgetJayback.”

Ididn’treply.Therewasnoneed.I’dspunmylies.AllIhadtodowaswait.

And then thewaitended.Thedooropenedandanothercopentered.SheriffBurkettsprangtohisfeet.

“News?”heasked.The cop perched on the seat beside me, his look despondent. “We

founditburned,”hesaid.“Thebarn’sgone.I’msorry.Thekidnappergotaway.”

Iclosedmyeyesandtriednot to smile.Sol. Ithadtohavebeenhim.

He’dburnedthebarntocoverourtracks.Ourstorywassafe.“Mia, isthereanythingelseyoucantellus?”thecopasked.“Anything

youmighthaveforgotten?”Itwent like this: I’dbeen searching theRidge for JayonFridaynight

when I’d been grabbed and hurled into the trunk of a car by a man Icouldn’t see in the darkness.He’d takenme to a barn in themiddle ofnowhere, where I’d found the six kidnapped boys. Jay had not beenamongthem.

Themanhadleftustiedupinthebarn,returningwithfoodandwatertwoorthreetimesoverthenexttwodays.Onthefinalday—today—I’dmanagedtobreakfreeofmybondsandgetmyselfandtheboystosafety.Itwasasimplestory.Astupidstory.Anditwasworking.

“There’snothingelse,”Isaid.“Howaretheboys?”“They’re with the doctors,” the cop replied. “Their parents have all

arrived.Idon’tneedtotellyouthatyou’reaherointheireyes,Mia.Inallofoureyes.”

IglancedatSheriffBurkettwhowasnoddinginpridefulagreement.Ifonlytheyknewthetruth.

Struckwithguilt,Istaredintomylap.“Whathappensnow?”“Wecombthebarnforevidence,”repliedthecop.“Wekeeplookingfor

thekidnapper.Wekeeplookingforyourbrother.”WiththeSolenettasafelystuffedinmypocket,IpicturedJayasI’dlast

seenhimattheNonskyFault.Wherewashenow?Aworldawayfromtheliethatwouldforeverbeapartofmylife.Icouldn’twaittogethomeandusetheparlerstone,totellhimofthetroublehe’dcaused—he’dloveit.Thecopswouldsearch; they’dnever findhim.Andthenonedaythey’dgiveupthehuntandthiswouldallbeforgotten.Forthem.Neverforme.

IlookedtoSheriffBurkett.“WhencanIgohome?”Iasked.“NotuntilPetegetshere.Hehassomeexplainingtodo,Mia.Iwantto

knowwhyhedidn’treportyoumissing.”“You knowPete,” I said, rushing to Pete’s defense.The last thingwe

needed was Child Protective Services breathing down our necks. “He’salwaysinandoutofthehouse.Webarelyseeeachothersomedays.Hemight not have even noticed I was gone.” I wasn’t convinced myexplanationwashelpingPete’scause.“Honestly,hewouldhavecalledyouifhe’dknownIwasmissing.”

“Perhaps,”saidthesheriffskeptically,thenchangedthesubject,“You’re

sureyouwon’tseeadoctor?”“I’msure.”Fourhourspassed.Fivehours.Comeon,Pete.SheriffBurkett’sphonerangandhe left theroomtoanswer it. Itwas

thefirsttimeI’dbeenalone.Restless,butsotiredIcouldsleepforaweek,Iwandered to thewindowand lookedout over theparking lot.A largepack of reporters were gathered by the hospital’s brightly lit entrance.HowthehellwasIgoingtoavoidtheminthecomingdays?

The door to the room opened, and I turned. Sheriff Burkett enteredwithsimmeringangerinhiseyes,hisfacered.Helookeddisgustedlyawayfrom themanwho followed him into the room, amanwith unwashedbrownhair,athree-daybeard,andsparklingblueeyes.Balianeyes.

Pete’sgazelockedwithmine.I’ddoneit.I’dmadeit.Iwashome.

*

Wedidn’tspeakuntilweenteredthekitchenathomeandthedoorwassafelylockedbehindus.

“Allthistime,”Isaidtohimaswesatatthetable.“Youneverspokeaword.”

It was the same old kitchen, the same old Pete. Only not anymore.Therewasenergy inhiseyes, avisible liftingof theweightof the secrethe’dcarriedforsomanyyears.

“Ithasn’tbeeneasy,”hesaid.“Butitwasnecessary.”He took from his pocket the parler stone—an exact replica of

Bromasta’s.“I spoke to your father. He and Jay are safe. They should reach

Solander’sencampmentearlytomorrowmorning.”“VermillionandDelane?”“They’rewiththem.”I was glad, though a touch worried about Vermillion being

unsupervisedaroundJay’shair.“Andus?”Iasked.“Whathappensnow?”“Iteachyou,”saidPete.“Youlisten.Youlearn.”Petehademptiedhispocket,soIemptiedmine.IplacedtheSolenetta

onthetable.

“Hideit,”saidPete,barelygivingitaglance.“Don’ttellanyonewhere—notevenme.”

“I’llburyitsodeepit’llneverbefound,”Isaid.“Andwhenthecopsquestionyouagain,sticktoyourstory.Don’tveer,

nomatterwhat the boys say. You offer one face to theworld—a sisterhopingforherbrothertobefound.”

Ihesitated,notusedtoseeingPetesoincontrol.“Youknoweverythingthathappened,”Isaid.“Don’tyou?”

“Fromthemomentthefirstboydisappeared,”Petereplied.Hewasdifferent.Icouldseeitinhiseverymovement.Itwasclearon

his face. He’d known about Sol, about Gus, about countless Brakalandexileshere inCrownsville.Hewaspart of abiggerworld, one I’dnevernoticedthoughitwasallaroundme.ButnowIknew.Therewouldbenomoresecretsbetweenus.

“Canyoudoit,Mia?”heasked.“Canyoulivealie?”I was about to replywhen lights shone from the driveway and a car

pulledupoutsidethehouse.Wonderingwhoitcouldbesinceitwasthemiddleofthenight,andhopingtohellitwasn’tthepressorthepolice,Idartedtothewindow,Peteastepahead.Butitwasn’treporters.Itwasn’teventhecops.

Itoreoutofthekitchenandontotheporch.Williewasdashingtowardthe house, her eyeswide, her face pale in themoonlight. “Mia, I don’tbelieveit!”shegasped.“IjustspoketoDad.Iknewsomethingwaswrongwhenyoudidn’treturnmytexts.I justthoughtyouwerefreakingaboutJay.”

Asecond laterwewerecollapsedontheporchstep,wrapped ineachother’sarms.Iknewrightthenthateverythingwouldbeokay.I’dknucklein, play my part. I didn’t have to lie—not to the people I cared aboutmost, not toWillie, not really.Because thatwas the thingwithme andWillie:Sometimestherewasjustnoneedforwords.

*

IfoundhimontheRidgethenextday,backinjeansandaT-shirt.ItwastheSolIknewfrombeforemadnesshadenteredmylife.

“IwenttoCrowley’shouse,”Isaid.“I’venotlongbeenback.”Sittingbesidehimonthegrass,Ilookedoutoveraninvisibleworld.“I

feellikeIshouldwavetoRip.Lethimknowwemadeit.”“Hewillhaveheard,”saidSol.“It’llbethetalkofBordertown.”The plains stretched before us, empty and endless, Onaly and the

SleeperHillGianttheonlysights.“Istillcan’tbelieveyouburneddownthebarn.It’salloverthenews.”“Itwasfallingdownanyway,”saidSol.Hegrinned.But other loose ends remained. I’d spent most of the morning with

Willie.She’dwarnedmethatherdadwantedtotalktomeandthatthecopswerealreadyintown.

“I’mnotsurethatSheriffBurkett’sbuyingit,” Isaid,“especiallyaboutJay. It won’t be long before one of the kids says something aboutBrakaland.”

“AndtheSolenetta?”askedSol.“Topsecretlocation.Petemademehideit.”“That’sgood.”“Andiftheycomebackforit?”The golden flecks in Sol’s eyes twinkled in the sunlight. “We’ll be

ready.”He drewme into a kiss that chased any thoughts of danger frommy

mind. I savored every sensation—the touch of his fingers as they grazedmy cheek, his hand on my neck beneath my hair. Why care abouttomorrow,orthenextday,orthedayafterthat,whenIhadSolnow?

Ourkissendedandwelayonthegrassandwatchedthecloudsgatherinthickclusters.TheydriftedtotheeastandIcouldn’thelpbutwonderifthosesamecloudshadpassedoverOrionorovermyfather’shouseinthevalley.Did itmatterwhichworld those cloudsbelonged to?OrhadSolbeenrightwhenhe’dsaidthatallworldswereconnected?

You see,nomatterhowquickly life changes, some things always staythesame.Takethelights,forinstance.

Therehavebeen strange lights inCrownsville for as longas I’ve livedhere. Lights on the Ridge; lights on the river; lights that seep from thegroundandthenfloattotheskyincloudsofcoloredmist.

TherehavealwaysbeenstrangelightsinCrownsville.NowIknowwhy.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ToNathaniel Jacks,myamazingagent,whoalways said “when”not “if”,andwhohelpedmeturnsomethingrawintosomethingreal.Hugethankstoyou,Nat,andtoeveryoneatInkwell.

TotheentireSimonPulseteamformakingmefeelsowelcomeandforallyourhardworkonthisbook.ImmensegratitudetoAngelaGoddardfordesigning the most amazing cover. Wow. Special thanks go to thegorgeousAnicaRissifortakingachanceonthisstory,andAnnettePollert,my wonderful editor, who is just so awesome she blows me away.Annette,I’msoluckytoworkwithyou.ThanksforlovingMiaandSolasmuchasIdo.

Ioffer abootay shake toeveryone inPurgatory, and raisea spezna totheNextCircleofHell.Youguysaretherealdeal.

HugehugstoCueballandJoJoformadness,mayhem,anddaysattheBranch. I’m throwing an outdoor disco on your behalf. You know themoves.

To the formidableWalsh clan: Sunny, Susan,Doug, Bridget,Maggie,Emma, Mark, Paige, Mac, Lily, Donovan, Charlie, Matt, and Cherie.Homedoesn’tfeelsofarawaywhenIhavefamilylikeyou.

ToallmyfamilyacrossthePond—especiallyMandy,Fintan,David,andTanya. Mandy, thanks for reading over all these years and for neversuggestingthatIwascrazytokeepgoing.ToDavidandTanya,whowerethereontheroadtripthatstartedthisstorynoonecouldaskforabetterbrother and sister-in-law. And toMum andDad, who never doubted Icoulddothis.Ihopeyou’rewatchingfromsomewhereupthere.

Finally,toMikeforreadingthisstoryandthentellingmethatitwastheone.LikeWillie,Ibelieveinfatedlove.Thisone’sforyou.Always.

SARA WALSH is British, but happily lives in Annapolis, Maryland.She graduated college with a degree in psychology, but decided thattelling stories was much more fun. The Dark Light was inspired by alocalnewseventaboutaboywhomysteriouslyreappearedafterhavingbeenmissingforadecade.

Visitheronlineatsarawalshbooks.com.

JacketdesignedbyAngelaGoddardJacketphotographcopyright©2012byGianlucaFontana/Stock4B

TattooartbyMarkHeggieAuthorphotocourtesyofTamelaKempofBaltimore,Maryland

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Thisbook isaworkof fiction.Anyreferences tohistoricalevents, realpeople,or real localesareused fictitiously.Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’simagination,andanyresemblancetoactualeventsorlocalesorpersons, livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.

SIMONPULSEAnimprintofSimon&SchusterChildren’sPublishingDivision1230AvenueoftheAmericas,NewYork,NY10020www.SimonandSchuster.comFirstSimonPulsehardcovereditionAugust2012Copyright©2012bySaraWalshAllrightsreserved,includingtherightofreproductioninwholeorinpartinanyform.SIMONPULSEandcolophonareregisteredtrademarksofSimon&Schuster,Inc.TheSimon&SchusterSpeakersBureaucanbringauthorstoyourliveevent.FormoreinformationortobookaneventcontacttheSimon&SchusterSpeakersBureauat1-866-248-3049orvisitourwebsiteatwww.simonspeakers.com.DesignedbyMikeRosamiliaThetextofthisbookwassetinBerlingLTStd.Walsh,Sara.Thedarklight/SaraWalsh.—1stSimonPulsehardcovered.p.cm.Summary:Whenseventeen-year-oldMia’sten-year-oldbrotherbecomesthelatestchildtodisappear,shediscoversthathertownofCrownsville,Nebraska,adjoinsanotherworld,andwithhelpfromnewfriendSol,shetriestorescuehimfromtheSuzerain,whoistryingtodestroyherworld.ISBN978-1-4424-3455-41.Missingchildren—Fiction.2.Supernatural—Fiction.3.Magic—Fiction.4.Identity—Fiction.5.Adventureandadventurers—Fiction.]I.Title.PZ7.W168933Dar2012[Fic]—dc232011041701ISBN978-1-4424-3459-2(eBook)