I start running. Turning into the alleyway just as I'm overcome by such sudden excruciating pain, I crumple to the ground. My fingers clamped to my temples, my head aching as though it's being stabbed from all sides, as a swirl of images unfold in my mind. A series of sketches, one turning into the next like pages in a book, followed by a detailed description of what it includes. And I've just made it to the third page when I realize these are instructions for making the antidote to save Damen, including herbs planted during the new moon, rare crystals and minerals I've never heard of, silk pouches embroidered by Tibetan monks—all of it needing to be carefully assembled in a series of very precise steps before soaking up the energy of the next full moon.

And just after I'm shown the exact herb needed to complete the immortal elixir, my head clears as though it never happened. So I reach for my bag, fumbling for a scrap of paper and a pen, jotting down the final step when Ava appears.

"I made the portal!" she says, her face lighting up as her eyes meet mine. "I didn't think I could do it, but this morning when I sat down for my usual meditation, I thought: What could it hurt to give it a try? And the next thing I knew—"

"You've been here since morning?" I say, taking in her beautiful dress, designer shoes, heavy gold bracelets, and jewel-adorned fingers.

"There's no time in Summerland," she scolds.

"Maybe so, but back home it's past noon," I tell her, watching as she shakes her head and frowns, refusing to get bogged down in the tedious rules of the earth plane.

"Who cares? What could I possibly be missing? A long line of clients wanting me to tell them they're about to become extremely rich and famous despite all evidence to the contrary?" She closes her eyes and sighs. "I'm tired of it, Ever. Tired of the grind. But here, everything's so wonderful, I think I might stay!"

"You can't," I say, quickly, automatically, though I'm not sure it's true.

"Why not?" She shrugs, lifting her arms to the sky and twirling around and around. "Why can't I stay here? Give me one good reason."

"Because—" I start, wishing I could just leave it at that, but since she's not a child I'm forced to come up with something better. "Because it's not right," I finish, hoping she'll hear me. "You have work to do. We all have work to do. And hiding out here is like—cheating."

"Says who?" She squints. "You telling me all of these people are dead?" I gaze around, taking in the crowded sidewalks, the long line for the movie theaters and karaoke bars, realizing I have no idea how to answer. I mean, just how many of them are like Ava—tired, fed-up, disillusioned souls who've found their way here and decided to drop out from the earth plane and never return? And how many of them have died and refused to cross over like Riley once did? I look at Ava again, knowing I've no right to tell her what to do with her life, especially when I remember what I've chosen to do with mine.

Then I reach for her hand and smile when I say, "Well, at the moment, I need you. Tell me everything you know about astrology."

Chapter Thirty-Seven

"So?" I lean toward Ava, elbows pressed against the tabletop, trying to keep her focused on me as opposed to the sights and sounds of Saint-Germain.

"I know that I'm an Aries." She shrugs, her eyes preferring the River Seine, the Pont Neuf, the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and the Notre Dame cathedral (which, in this version of Paris, are all lined up in a row), to me.

"Is that it?" I stir my cappuccino, wondering why I even bothered to order it from the cartoon like garcon with the curlicue mustache, white shirt, and black vest, since it's not like I have any intention of drinking it.

She sighs, turning to look at me when she says, "Ever, can't you just relax and enjoy the view? When was the last time you were in Paris anyway?"

"Never," I say, rolling my eyes in a way she can't miss. "I've never been to Paris. And I hate to break it to you, Ava, but this—" I take a moment to gesture around, pointing at the Louvre, which is placed right next to Printemps department store, which is next to the Musee d'Orsay, "—is not Paris. This is like some cranked up Disney version of Paris. Like, you've taken a pile of travel brochures and French postcards, and scenes from that adorable cartoon movie Ratatouille, mixed them all together and voila, created this. I mean, did you see the waiter? Did you notice how his tray kept tipping and twirling but never once fell? I doubt the real Paris has waiters like that."

But even though I'm acting like the biggest party pooper ever, Ava just laughs. Swinging her wavy auburn hair over her shoulder as she says, "Well, for your information, this is exactly as I remember it. Maybe these monuments weren't all lined up in a row, but it's so much nicer like this. I did attend the Sorbonne you know. In fact, did I ever mention the time when I—"

"That's great, Ava. Really," I say. "And I'd love to hear all about it if I wasn't running out of time! So, what I meant to ask was, what do you know about astrology or astronomy or whatever it is that involves the various moon cycles?"

She breaks off a piece of baguette and butters the side, saying, "Can you be more specific?"

I reach into my pocket and retrieve the folded-up paper I scribbled on right after my vision, squinting ather as I say, "Okay, what exactly is a new moon and when does it occur?"