“This is weird. They’ve already started packing stuff up,” she whispered. “Like they can’t wait to get rid of me.”

“That’s not it.” I pulled her inside and mostly closed the door, to keep Traci from overhearing. “Nash said his mom did the same thing after their dad died, then after Tod died, not because she wanted to forget about them, but because it hurt too much to look at everything that reminded them of what they’d lost.”

Her chin quivered. She didn’t look like she believed me.

“They’re packing this stuff up because they miss you, Em. Not because they’re glad to be rid of you. Besides—” I glanced into several of the open boxes “—most of these are still empty. Grab one and pack up what you want.”

For a couple of minutes, I went through the clothes in her closet, looking for anything that might still fit, while she went through what little remained on her shelves. Her mom and sisters had claimed everything but some elementary school soccer medals, a participation trophy from the one year she’d tried middle school cheerleading, and the first-place ribbon from fourth-grade field day, when we’d won the egg toss.

“Is that all you want?” I set the shirts I thought Em could still wear in the box she was using, on top of the medals and several pictures of the two of us, dating all the way back to third grade.

Emma shrugged. “They took most of the good stuff. And I think I’m happy about that. I don’t need stuff to remember myself by, right? I’m still here. And I want them to remember me.”

She had a valid point. And she seemed to be in good spirits, considering.

“Any luck with my jeans? Or some shorts? It’s already getting warm outside.”

“The pants are a total loss. Sorry. You just don’t have the hips for them anymore. Maybe a couple of skirts, though....”

We were going through the last of her clothes when Harmony called us from the living room. “Girls? I think she’s ready.”

My heartbeat was a hollow thump my chest suddenly felt too small to contain.

Em looked as nervous as I felt. We put down the clothes and filed into the living room, where Harmony now sat next to Traci on the couch. Em and I took the two armchairs facing the couch at opposite angles.

“Traci? You okay?” She frowned at her sister in concern. Traci looked...confused.

“I feel weird. Tired.” She looked like she could fall asleep where she sat.

I scooted to the edge of my chair to take the can of soda Harmony offered me. Traci had a cup of what looked like hot tea. I peered into it, but saw no trace of whatever Harmony had spiked it with. “So...how does this stuff work?”

“‘This stuff’ is just water from a natural source in the Netherworld. Water therehas various properties, and this one—” she held up a plastic vial, very much like the one Sabine kept her liquid envy in “—works like an amnesic. Traci is sleepy, but her cognition is not impaired, so she can talk to us just like she normally would. But she won’t remember anything that happens in the next hour or so.”

“What about after that?” Em asked.

“She’ll probably fall asleep, then wake up here and only remember that she took a nap.”

I glanced at Traci, who was watching us in mounting confusion. “So we can tell her everything?”

Harmony nodded.

“Everything, everything?” Em clenched the arms of her chair. “Like, about me?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

Emma didn’t look sure, and I was hyperaware that the clock was ticking. So I started. “Traci, we have some things to tell you, and most of them are going to be hard for you to believe. But don’t worry about that, because you’re not going to remember this anyway.” We only needed her to understand long enough to make a very difficult decision.

Traci focused on me sluggishly. “This feels like a dream.”

“Are you sure that stuff won’t hurt the baby?” Em asked.

Harmony smiled and leaned back on the couch, still facing Emma. “I’m sure. It’s really just water. And the baby’s way too young to worry about memory loss.”

“What does this have to do with my baby?” Traci laid one hand across her mostly flat stomach.

“Okay. Here goes....” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then swallowed my own nerves and uncertainties and met her gaze. “Traci, there’s a better than average chance that your baby isn’t human.”

Traci blinked. Then she laughed kinda sluggishly. “Have you two been drinking? It’s, like, three in the afternoon.” She seemed to have forgotten Harmony was even there.

“No.” Em gripped the arms of her chair. “Your baby’s not human, but that’s okay, ’cause Kaylee’s not, either. In fact, she’s dead.”

“Who are you again?” Traci frowned at her.

“We’ll get to that in a minute.” I stood. “Traci.” She turned to see me and suddenly seemed more drunk than tired. “I’m a bean sidhe. Most people call us banshees, but whatever you know about banshees is probably wrong. Incomplete, at the least. Also, like she said, I’m dead.”

There were probably a million better ways to tell her what she needed to know and a million people better prepared than I was to deliver the news—like Harmony—but we were short on time and on volunteers Traci knew well enough to trust.