“You’re afraid,” Hiram whispers.

  “Deathly.” Veda’s confession is barely a whisper. “Of things within my control and beyond.”

  “I am, too.” Hiram lifts onto his elbow to look at her. “The only way out is through.”

  “I know.” The corners of her lips dip into a frown. “I hate that I can’t stay upset around you. I wanted to wallow. I never got to forgive her, but now I feel this fragile sense of peace. How did you know I needed to sit with everything?”

  “Because I know you. Just as you know me well enough to call out my shit from the beginning.”

  Veda rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m trying to figure out how we got here so quickly.”

  “The sequence of events doesn’t matter, we’re here now.” Hiram kisses her temple. “This is the last thing we should be thinking about. There’s too much happening.”

  “You’re right.”

  “And you hate it.”

  Veda scowls at him. “You’re too smug about this.”

  “Am I?” Hiram makes a small noise. “And here I thought everyone wanted to be seen and understood by at least one person?”

  “Not everyone. Not me.” Veda’s voice lowers. “To be seen is to be known, to have your problems laid out and weighed. You set yourself up for judgment, acknowledge your imperfections, and expose them.”

  “Because you’ll be vulnerable, right?” Hiram shifts closer. “Too late. You already are.”

  “It’s horrible. I don’t recommend it.”

  He smirks. “I’m sure you don’t. You’d rather suffer in silence. I know. I’m the same. But you yelled it out of me, so I think it’s only fair I pay it forward.”

  Veda sighs. “Today is going to suck.”

  “It is.”

  Instead of sleeping, Veda melts into him, her hand resting on his chest until she is as steady as the pull of gravity. In the mooring silence, his heart anchors itself. Calm acceptance keeps him steady, equally as tethered to her.

  He’s known since the first wave, but there hasn’t been time to dissect the feelings that have lurked longer than his practical heart cares to admit. Hiram doesn’t shy away. He makes every choice that comes with loving her, and waits for Veda to accept him when she’s ready. He isn’t sure when that will be, if they’ll have time or space to think beyond the imminent, but he’ll be ready when the time comes. For now, he lives for these fragile moments, holding Veda until her breathing deepens. He wants to stay like this forever but closes his eyes until it’s time to face the day.

  Just after noon, Veda returns with a bouquet of Ruth’s favorite flowers. Instead of attending the Seer’s memorial, she holds her own, sitting on the dock and setting the flowers adrift.

  The sun begins its descent, slowly sliding down to kiss the horizon, but Veda doesn’t move. Antaris joins her for a spell, offering silent comfort. Then Hiram does, too. The dock slowly gets more crowded as Gabriel comes with August. Khadijah and Peter stop by on their way home from Ruth’s memorial, Khadijah carrying a familiar floppy hat. The couple sits on either side of Veda, talking. Only when they succeed in making her laugh does Hiram leave to finish dinner.

  Everyone stays for an unusually quiet meal, but afterward, while Veda watches cartoons with the boys and Khadijah, Hiram walks outside. When Gabriel spots him, he ends what appears to be an intense call in a hurry and gives him a look that reminds him of August.

  “I need another favor,” Gabriel says.

  “I specifically said to not need me anymore.” Hiram then asks, “What is it?”

  “Francisco is on a leave of absence, so I’m currently without a partner and technically on desk duty, which I hate because everyone is here for this manhunt and fucking things up. Anyway, I went canvassing alone by the Dalneau Bridge—”

  “Terrible idea.”

  “I know.” Gabriel rolls his eyes. “But I think I found what Everett meant when he said we’d find the rest of the truth there. I know they searched the area with a fine-tooth comb and found nothing, but I went out a few days ago while August was with his mom. At some point after a few hours, I realized I was walking in circles and touched a tree that turned to ash. Then, with every step I took toward a certain point, everything died. Eventually, I couldn’t walk forward anymore.”

  “Omnipotent magic and concealment.”

  Gabriel nods. “I tried every revealing spell I could think of, but nothing worked. Now that this case is top priority, I’m supposed to alert my commander if I find anything, but I don’t want a hundred people trampling over the scene and destroying evidence. Without Francisco, I don’t trust anyone there, but I still want to go back. Since I need backup, and the kids are watching the movie right now . . .”

  “I’m an attorney.”

  “I’ve seen you fight. Illegal amulet notwithstanding, I’d trust you to have my back just like I trust Francisco.”

  “How is he, by the way?”

  “Mostly recovered. He’s off mainly because he’s gone to Portland with Marlene for rehabilitation. He has a lot of family in the area who are banding together to help. I’m glad they weren’t here . . .”

  Hiram is, too.

  “How about you?” Gabriel waggles his brows. “Is Veda a permanent houseguest?”

  Ignoring him is easy. “I have hiking boots in the trunk. Let me tell Antaris I’ll be back, and then we can go.”

  “Wait, you didn’t answer my question!”

  Hiram closes the door in his face.

  Fifteen minutes later, Hiram parks on the side of the road before the Dalneau Bridge and lets Gabriel lead the way into the forest on foot. Their destination is deeper off the road. He sees the pile of ashes first, then catches fragments of the barrier refracting the sunlight. Gabriel is watching him expectantly, which makes him realize his second purpose of being here. “You want me to try and tear it down.”

  “I thought you knew that.”

  Hiram laughs. “What was the strongest spell you used?”

  “A shattering spell approved for investigators. Concutere.” That spell is strong enough to take down a building if it lands in the right place.

  “My amulet is designed to serve my best interests, but sometimes it won’t absorb consequences from certain spells. I can enhance that spell, if you’d like.”

  Gabriel thinks about it. “A bit of an archaic way to cast, but worth a try.”

  Working together is useful when Mages aren’t strong enough to withstand the consequences of some spells. The amulet will shield him from most of the blowback, but not all.

  Gabriel raises his hand. “Concutere.” Without direction or focus, an orange orb appears in the palm of his hand and hovers.

  Hiram opens his hands around the orb, the heat of its magic warming his palms. “Potentia.”

  The orb grows hotter, turning from orange to ice blue. Hiram steps back, letting Gabriel guide it. Silently, it races toward the barrier with conscious precision, which shatters like glass, the fragments scattering across the forest floor. It sounds like someone screaming, high-pitched and terrifying. But it vanishes immediately, revealing what’s been hidden all along.

  It’s closer to a shack than a cottage, though it’s well maintained. Gabriel is instantly on high alert. He’s the first to the wooden door. A talisman chimes in warning, but Gabriel puts it to sleep with a spell Hiram doesn’t hear. Gabriel steps inside and quickly returns, looking shocked.

  “You need to see this.”

  When Hiram enters, his first instinct is to pack Antaris and Veda up and return to the island. The shack is a mess, covered in nothing but pictures and frantic scribblings, trash littering the floor along with balled-up sheets of paper with numbers and incoherent words written in jagged penmanship. This is the prison cell of a man going insane but fighting it every step of the way. Hiram has chills. One wall is covered entirely with pictures of Veda. How long has Everett been watching? He estimates the time from her attire in each picture and guesses at least since February. It tracks from what Veda recalled about the shift in his behavior. There are a few photos of Khadijah and Peter, one of Antaris with Veda at the school holding pots of lavender, and several of Hiram marked with the word cousin. Everett had worked out the link between him and Ariadne.

  But it doesn’t stop there. Everett made more connections. Pictures of Marlene and Seren, with the word trickster scrawled across their faces. He knew. Pictures of all Ariadne’s victims, including Grace, are marked with the same thing: Sight Unseen. How did he know she had performed the spell on each of them? Hiram’s musings are interrupted by a photo of a familiar section of trees.

  Did Everett find Veda’s house?

  “Look at this,” Gabriel says from behind him.

  In the corner, a small television flickers to life, already showing Everett on-screen.

  “The remote was buried under a pile of garbage,” Gabriel explains, holding it up. “When I stepped on it, this started.” He waves the remote and unpauses the video.

  “If you’re watching this, I’m dead, and she hasn’t found this place.”

  Hiram steels himself for more.

  “I gave as many clues to as many people as I could, but it’s not enough. I thought I—” Everett’s eyes flicker red. He covers them, clearly pained. “I Saw her real face in a vision, and now this is my fate . . .”

  “Has Veda been home since you got back?” Gabriel asks.

  “No,” Hiram replies, distracted by Everett. Veda’s paranoia wasn’t enough. Seeing this will send her into a tailspin he isn’t sure he’ll be able to stop.

  “You need to do what I couldn’t and burn this place down with everything in it.”

  The video cuts off. Gabriel grabs everything he can carry while Hiram walks out. Eyeing the nearby trees, he wants to make sure none are too close for this. By the time Gabriel emerges, his arms are full.

  “We need to—”

  “Burn it down.”

  Gabriel looks unsettled. “If anyone finds out I destroyed evidence, I could lose my job and compromise this investigation.”

  “Who says you’re destroying anything?” Hiram raises his hand, amulet glowing fire red. “Ardeat.”

  Sparks land on the wooden roof. They catch, then spread. Hiram watches it burn, flames engulfing the structure until it is nothing more than a skeletal silhouette.

  He doesn’t move until only ashes are left.

  The next morning, Veda wakes with a clear, determined mind. Hiram is barely out of the shower when she sets on him with a list.

  “I’m scared.”

  “You should be. We’re going into the woods to find the last four ingredients for the Liquid Curse, and you’re coming. Gabriel says I need a bodyguard and you have an amulet.” She goes into the closet and throws suitable clothes for hiking on the bed. Before she leaves, she says, “Antaris is already getting dressed.”

  The door closes and Hiram curses.

  He’ll take her determination over sadness any day. When Hiram emerges from his bedroom, Antaris and Veda are waiting for him. The former is wearing boots that clash magnificently with his T-shirt and bow tie, but when he looks at Hiram for approval, he says, “Perfect.”

  “One more thing.” Veda vanishes in the direction of his office, returning with a small box. Curiously, Antaris opens it, excitement blooming when he realizes what’s inside. His own rucksack. He quickly puts it on, draping it over his shoulder like she does. It looks good on him. Inside, Veda has packed a magnifying glass, a few small bags, one plastic vial, tweezers, and a pair of binoculars.

  “He’ll be able to add to it, the older he gets, the more his interests grow.” Veda smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I ordered it and had it mailed to Khadijah. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  Antaris signs thank you. His appreciation seems to warm Veda’s spirits.

  They drive to the edge of town and enter the forest after Hiram casts a spell on his car to conceal it from view. Not long into their trek, Veda tells him he walks too loudly, too confidently, arrogantly. On the island, it didn’t matter, but here, wildlife scatters long before they get close. Antaris, by contrast, is quiet. Hiram sees Veda lose track of him, only to realize he’s right beside her. When she pauses beside a tree, pressing a hand to its bark, Hiram is grateful for the break.

  “Remember on the island when I showed you how to tell what direction you’re going?”

  Antaris nods.

  “Show me which way is north.”

  His son circles the tree four times, gaze traveling up and down. Hiram, watching intently, mutters that the question is too difficult for him. Veda hushes him, clearly believing Antaris is up for the task. That belief is rewarded when he points north with certainty. Veda beams.

  “How did he know that?” Hiram asks, surprised.

  “I taught him that branches growing south spread south toward the sun, while the north side of the tree grows straight up.”

  From that moment on, Hiram pays close attention as Veda identifies the ingredients she finds, demonstrates how to properly harvest, and when they happen upon bushes of fruit, she explains which fungi and berries are safe to eat. Pokeweed is easy to find. Veda needs it for its root. Absinth wormwood needs to be as fresh as possible. The valerian and ivy are the last things she finds, but once they’re secured, they keep going deeper into the forest. Antaris finds a particularly rare needlegrass that he wants permission to pick as his first ingredient for his storage room. Veda looks around, then kneels next to him.

  “We can’t pick this.”

  “Why not?” Hiram asks. Antaris looks to her for an explanation, too.

  “There aren’t enough. So with these, we look but don’t pick,” Veda explains. “We need to let them grow and spread. That way, there will be more when you come back. It’s important to respect that there is a balance. Everything in nature is made of magic and connected to the Cosmos. If we don’t respect it, the Cosmos will bite back.”

  As if on cue, a clap of thunder comes out of nowhere. A high-pitched squeak escapes Antaris as a spark slips from his fingers. The small ball of fire lands like melted glass in the leaf bed beneath their feet, spreading quickly. Hiram wastes no time pulling Antaris away and extinguishing the flames with a spell. The boy is shaken and devastated, but Hiram is quick to steady him by seating him on a nearby rock and tightening his boots.

  “It was an accident,” Hiram says calmly. “Accidents happen. They help you learn.”

  “He’s right,” Veda chimes in.

  The birth of an idea makes Hiram look around. “Do you think we can find Nénuphar?”

  Veda considers it. “Do you think he’ll be able to see it?”

  Antaris looks between them, blinking in confusion.

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  They leave the path and go where the old forest steers them. It never matters the direction; magic is the reason the cave has always found them exactly when it’s meant to be found. This is what Veda tells a fascinated Antaris. The trees thin and sunlight peeks through the canopy.

  Veda’s eyes brighten as she points to something ahead. “There it is.”

  When the cave’s magic doesn’t warp his son’s world, a safeguard for those who do not need its power, Hiram knows he made the right choice in bringing him here. Antaris is the first to reach the cave’s mouth, his trepidation clear. Together, they lead him to the water’s edge, his eyes sweeping the amethyst walls and limestone ceiling, searching for the cave’s pulse. Signs of overwhelm start to show.

  “Do you remember what to do when you feel overwhelmed?” Hiram asks gently.

  Antaris nods, closing his eyes and taking one deep breath after another.

  “It’s okay,” Hiram reassures him. “I used to come here as a kid. I didn’t know then, but each time I swam in the water, I felt a little better. The magic here only shows itself to those who need it.”

  Antaris points to himself.

  Veda kneels next to him. “Even adults need healing. Do you want to try?”

  He nods slowly.

  “What you see will be a memory,” she explains.

  They only bother kicking off their shoes and socks. Veda waits at the water’s edge while Antaris takes a tentative step. Realizing the water is warm, he seems to relax, growing more confident as he goes all the way in. He floats on his back, staring up at the shimmering rocks that drop from the ceiling. Hiram sees the moment Antaris slips into a memory. Hiram follows, and slips into one himself.

  “Grace is gone. She’s gone . . .” John’s voice breaks. “You deserve to know.”

  “Know what?”

  “Your son.”

  The world narrows to a single moment, then broadens so widely it feels indeterminate and terrifying. But his decision is made in an instant. “Send me your address. I’ll be there in the morning.”

  Hiram inhales his way out of the memory. Seconds later, Antaris does the same. His eyes glisten. When Hiram gathers him into an embrace, Antaris signs a single word, repeatedly.

  Mother.

  “Did you see her in your memory?”

  Antaris nods, smiling even as tears stream down his cheeks. No sadness, only peace.

  The drying spell leaves Antaris’s hair in soft curls, Hiram’s standing at odd angles, and Veda’s as wild and voluminous as ever. Antaris bursts into giggles every time she tries in vain to pat it down. They emerge from the cave as the first streaks of sunset stretch across the sky. A pasture of blooming flowers greets them beyond the entrance, and Antaris rushes ahead, eager to explore. They keep watch as he wanders.

  “Most of them are weeds,” Veda says when Antaris plucks one. “But some weeds are useful. Like the dandelion in your hand.” Hiram notices her body moving with more ease now, her energy lighter, back to her usual cautious calm.

  “How was your swim?” he asks.

  Veda starts walking, and he falls into step beside her, keeping enough distance from Antaris to give him a sense of independence without letting him feel alone. She says nothing at first, fussing again with her poofy hair. “My vision was from the night of Peter’s graduation party. I saw you.”