“Helen, I love you. You’re my wife, my world,” he said in Evan’s voice. “Have pity.”

It was pity she felt. But the single tear that slipped down Nell’s cheek was all she could give.

“In this place and in this hour,” Ripley chanted. “We cast you out and scorn your power. We are joined, we are the Three. As we will, so mote it be.”

“We cast you out,” Mia repeated, and each who clasped hands repeated, one by one until the words overlapped into a single voice.

The force of it came like a gale, cold and fetid. It swirled up, a black funnel, then spewed into the air. And into the sea.

On the sand Harding, his face gray but unmarked, groaned.

“He needs tending,” Nell said.

“Go ahead and take care of him, then.” Ripley stepped back. Immediately the strength went out of her legs and she buckled.

“Okay, baby. Okay.” Mac caught her, lowering her gently to her knees. “Catch your breath, clear your head.”

“I’m all right. Just a bit wobbly.” She managed to lift her head, look at her brother. “Guess you won’t have to lock me up for homicide.”

“Guess not.” He knelt as well, took her face in his hands. “Scared me, Rip.”

“Yeah, me, too.” She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. “We’re going to be busy tomorrow. Storm damage.”

“We’ll handle it. Todds take care of the Sisters.”

“Damn right.” She breathed in, breathed out, and felt free. “You ought to give Nell a hand with Harding. Poor sap. I’m okay.”

“You always were.” He kissed both her cheeks, held on for another minute. Then looked at Mac as he got to his feet. “Make sure she stays that way.”

She drew in another breath. “Give me a minute, will you?” she asked Mac.

“I can probably spare two, but not much more.”

“Okay,” she agreed as he helped her up.

Her knees were jelly, but she willed them to hold her, steadied herself, and turned toward Mia. Then she forgot the weakness, the shock, even the echoes of power. Mia stood, smiling just a little, one hand on Lucy’s head. The dog’s tail was wagging like a madcap metronome.

“Lucy!” In one leap she had her face buried in the dog’s fur. “I thought she was gone. I saw . . .” She jerked back and began stroking at Lucy, searching for the wound.

“It wasn’t real,” Mia said quietly. “His sword was only an illusion, a trick of violence to test you. He used it to push you to repeat the sin. He didn’t want your death—not yet. He wanted your soul, and your power.”

Ripley squeezed Lucy one last time, then straightened and turned to Mia. “Well, he lost, didn’t he?”

“So he did.”

“Did you know, all along?”

“Pieces.” Mia shook her head. “Not enough to be sure, just enough to doubt and worry.” She held out a hand as Nell crossed to them. “In my heart, I knew you wouldn’t fail. But in my head, I wasn’t sure. You’ve always been a difficult puzzle for me.”

“I might have done it. I was mad enough, frightened enough. But I felt both of you, inside. I never wanted this,” she said in a furious whisper. “You know I never wanted this.”

“Life’s tough,” Mia said with a shrug. “You play the cards you’re dealt or you fold.”

“I knew you’d win.” Nell took her injured hand, gently uncurled the fingers. “You need to see to this.”

“I will. It’s not bad.” She pressed her lips together. “I want the scar,” she said. “I need it.”

“Then . . .” Slowly, Nell curled Ripley’s fingers into a loose fist. “Zack and I are going to take Mr. Harding back to the house for now. He needs a hot meal. He’s shaken up, confused, but all in all”—she glanced back to where Zack had Harding on his feet—“amazingly unharmed. He remembers little.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” Ripley demanded. “All right, let’s go back, clean the rest of this up.” She tilted her head up to the sky, saw the clouds dissolving, and the halo of the moon glowing pure and white.

“Storm’s passing,” she murmured.

Mia nodded. “For now.”

Ripley opened her mouth, looked toward Harding again. “Maybe the guys could take Harding back, give us another minute here.”

“All right. I’ll tell Zack.”

The wind had gentled to a breeze, and the breeze smelled of night and of water. Ripley waited until the men, and the cheerful dog, turned toward home.

With Mia and Nell she closed the circle they had cast. She took her ritual sword—that had been real enough—and cleansed it. The surf foamed up, tame now and lovely, and dampened her boots.

“When I lifted the sword,” she began, knowing her friends were beside her, “I wanted blood. Like a craving. Bringing it down seemed to take hours.” She shifted her feet. “I’m not big on this vision crap. That’s your deal, Mia. Usually. But I saw images. I saw Mac, Mac and me. My parents, my brother. I saw the three of us in the forest the way we were last fall. I saw Nell. You had a baby in your arms.”

“A baby.” Nell’s voice went soft, dreamy, as she pressed a hand to her belly. “But I’m not—”

“Not yet, anyway.”

“Oh, boy!” Nell let out a thrilled and baffled laugh. “Oh, boy, oh, boy!”

“Anyway,” Ripley continued, “I saw those things, and more. The three sisters, in a dark wood, in a circle of light. The one who was Earth on this very beach, in a storm. There were so many, coming so fast they overlapped, but each was perfectly clear.

“And I saw you, Mia. Standing on your cliffs, on the edge of your cliffs. Alone and crying. There was darkness all around you, the kind that came out of Harding tonight. It wanted you. Somehow, I . . . It’s always been you, most of all.”

Even as the chill crept up her spine, Mia nodded. “Are you telling me to . . . beware?”

“Very ware. I saw something else, at the instant I stopped the sword. One last flash. The three of us, in a circle. And I knew it was okay. What I’m saying is, I know it can be okay. If we do what we’re supposed to do, make the right choices.”