Noel screamed again. Near her foot, his flesh tore away from the dagger. His body sank into the void all at once and . . . disappeared.

And as if she were on the winning side of a tug-of-war game, Lowe’s torso suddenly gave way and flew over the tree limb. They both toppled into the mud, a tangle of arms. She gasped for breath as he flipped around and drew his legs over the bough. Then they both scrambled to their knees.

One by one, the Mori dove into the shrinking void like a flock of black birds arrowing into a pool of water. What was seconds ago big enough to swallow Noel’s body was now the size of a dinner plate as the last specter flew in.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hadley saw gold glint. The amulet. It lay strewn across the tree limb, one side of its broken chain caught on the dagger jutting out of the wood.

Lowe saw it, too. His hand shot out. He snatched the amulet off the chain and tossed it into the closing void. As if it finally had everything it wanted, the black mouth snapped shut and disappeared completely.

A weary grunt pulled her attention across the lawn.

She raced around the branches and stopped short in front of her father’s wheelchair, where he was prying his twisted legs apart. He was still in pain, his eyes still pale. But he was alive. “Father,” she said, unable to hold back the tears that streaked down her cheeks.

Her father’s staff came running from the back porch, terror and fear in their eyes. “Call an ambulance,” she shouted out to them.

“It worked,” her father said between labored breaths. “I can feel the magic leaving.”

But it wasn’t the only thing.

Lulu’s rumbling engine sputtered to life again. Hadley tried to call for Lowe, but whether he heard her or not, she didn’t know. He just leaned forward into the motorcycle’s handlebars and sped away without a single look behind.

And he was gone.

THIRTY-THREE

ONE MONTH LATER . . .

HADLEY SET A FULL glass of champagne down on the edge of the desk as distant laughter from the office party floated through the doorway. She’d never shaken so many hands in all her life. All that bare skin was hard to get used to, and now that it was over, she had to fight the urge to wash her hands, exchanging one phobia for another. But she did fight it—a small victory.

She just needed to take a breather. If she stuck around any longer, Miss Tilly might’ve damn well tried to hug her. She gritted her teeth and shuddered at the thought.

Small steps.

“That’s the last one,” her father said as he hobbled into the room on crutches. He nodded to a box of odds and ends that sat at her feet.

“You sure you want to give up this desk?” She leaned back against the edge of it. “Last chance to withdraw your retirement. The staff’s already half-cut. I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to toast to you changing your mind.”

A smile lifted his lips. “Can you imagine the paperwork? Besides, they’ve already printed your business cards. How does it feel to be department head?”

Strangely, not as satisfying as she once imagined, but she merely said, “Daunting.”

“Pish. You’ll be fine. Oh, and while I’m thinking of it, I had Miss Tilly place notices in the trade publications that we’re seeking a replacement for George’s position. And if you need help interviewing—”

“I think I can manage.”

He blinked at her, studying her face while motes of dust fluttered within a slice of afternoon sun spilling from the nearby window. Though his sight had returned days after the final confrontation with his old partner, he still spent a lot of time looking at her more closely than he ever had before the blindness. “Don’t be too proud to ask for help.”

“I won’t,” she assured him, as her father’s assistant, Stan, walked into the room.

Stan picked up the box of her father’s things. “We should get going, sir. Driver is waiting outside.”

“Take that out to the trunk,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute or two.”

“When’s your appointment with the doctor?” she asked her father as Stan left the office.

“Half an hour, but he can wait. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Father, I appreciate all your concern, but I really can handle things here.”

He leaned on one crutch and shook his head. “It’s not that. I wanted to talk to you about Mr. Magnusson.”

Just the sound of his name sent a pang through her chest. Had it been a month since she’d last seen him, riding away out of her father’s backyard? Because it felt like an entire year’s worth of sleepless nights.

“What about him?” she said, trying to make her voice sound normal.

“Are you in love with him?”

She balked at the accusation, crossing her arms below her breasts. Yes, her father had seen her fall apart a few times in the first days after Lowe had disappeared out of her life, when she was intermittently racked with anger and hurt. But she’d pulled herself together. Mostly. “I don’t know why you’re asking about this. Nothing’s changed. He’s made no attempt to contact me.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

“What you asked doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t be surprised to never see the man again.” Admittedly, she’d once or twice taken a taxi past the Magnusson house to see if she could spy his red motorcycle in the driveway. She never did, and subsequently gave up trying. “For all I know, he’s run off to Egypt again. And considering the way we parted, I feel quite sure he won’t be trying to sell the museum anything else he finds in the desert.”