I tuck away my key necklace. The pink and white vertical stripes on Jenara’s wall glow a silvery hue, gilded by the moonlight streaming through translucent curtains draped across the arched window. Vines of black flower silhouettes stretch across her ceiling—immaculate shadows painted by Jeb’s masterful hand a few years ago. A mural worthy of an art museum.

I catch him staring at it before he tightens his jaw and looks away. The sadness in the action knots me up inside.

“Jeb.” I stall behind him and wrap him in my arms, my mouth pressed to the clothes hugging his broad shoulder. “You’ll find your way. I promise . . . there’s so much you have to offer this world still.”

He tenses, but crosses his arms so he’s clutching my elbows in place. “I’m not sure how to let go of something that once held me together.”

“You don’t have to let go. That part of you is still intact. In frames, painted on walls, sketched on squares of paper. Your muse lives on here, through the people who are getting joy from your artwork every day. That’s more magical than anything. Let that hold you together until you find a new path.”

He brings me around so we’re facing each other, then kisses me. “You’re pretty smart, for a netherling.”

I laugh. “And you’re pretty tough, for a human.” I drag his head down for another kiss.

Rabid coos and stares up at us, wide-eyed and fascinated.

Embarrassed, I pull back. The momentary reprieve was nice, but I know it won’t be so easy to brush aside everything Jeb’s lost. It’s something we’ll deal with together, day by day, until he finds his way again.

For now, we have this situation with Jenara to tend to.

Jeb clears his throat, obviously thinking the same thing. “So, I guess I should check the house.”

“Do you think she’s at work?” I peel off my boots to let the plush shag of the pink area rug cushion my toes.

He cracks Jenara’s door and peers into the hall. “I know Mom has to be. She always takes the evening shift. You two wait here.”

Once he steps out, leaving the door ajar behind him, Rabid clambers onto Jenara’s bed. His spindly fingers and toes wrinkle the black-and-white damask comforter. The pink dust ruffle and shams remind me of how Jen and I used to play dress-up in this room. How we fashioned wedding gowns out of sheets and pillowcases, told secrets, ate junk food, and stayed up till all hours of the night.

It seems so long ago.

Two white, faceless mannequins stand in front of her window with luminary shades tilted on their heads like hats. Jeb wired their hollow insides and threaded lightbulbs through their craniums to make lamps for her fifteenth birthday.

I turn one on, casting a white, starry pattern across the wooden floor and Jenara’s bedspread.

“Ooooh.” Rabid stands on the mattress and dances through the glowing shapes created by the luminary. I face the mirror, watching his reflection in the glass. He’s like a macabre ballerina in a busted snow globe. So out of place in this room filled with normal, human things.

Then I see my own reflection. My netherling eye markings haven’t fully faded yet. My skin is glistening, and if my hair weren’t caught up in a braid, it would be rustling—alive and enchanted.

I’m an alien.

Come to think of it, we’re all aliens now. Even Jeb. After what we’ve been through and seen, this tranquility seems more dangerous than the chaos we faced. I wonder if this is how soldiers feel after returning home from a war. How do they get past it? How do they learn to belong again? To feel safe once more?

The fuzzy buzzing whispers of a few bugs break through my thoughts, a welcome comfort. I close my eyes for an instant, but snap them open as a high-pitched squeal from the other end of the hallway makes me jump.

I shoo Rabid off the bed and into the closet. “Don’t come out unless we call your name, okay?”

He nods, burrowing into a pile of sewing accessories—scarves, belts, and swatches of fabric—on the floor.

I stand in place, arms at my sides . . . trapped.

Jenara’s hysterical sobs grow closer as Jeb leads her toward the cracked door. He talks in gentle tones, so quiet beneath her crying I can’t make out what he says. My heart hammers in time with the hinges squeaking open.

When they step in, she’s wrapped up in his arms, gripping the lapels of his shirt, head tucked against him and face hidden behind a curtain of wet pink hair—fresh from the shower. Jeb must’ve caught her just as she came out of the bathroon. Her green satin pajamas remind me of past slumber parties and giggling games.

I’ve missed her so much.

“Jen?” I murmur tentatively, without even knowing what to say next.

At the sound of my voice, she turns her head in my direction.

“A-Al?” Her freshly scrubbed pink cheeks bulge as she tries to suppress her sobs. She loses the battle and cries out, running to me.

I hold up my arms to hug her and we crash onto the mattress together, the springs bouncing beneath us. Catching my breath, I bury myself in the citrusy, bubblegum scent of her shampoo. A smile radiates from my heart to my lips and I hold her tighter against me, tears dribbling down my temples. Hers or mine . . . it doesn’t matter. The sensation is wonderful.

Jeb rubs her back. “J.”

“No, no, no, no.” She sobs into my neck. “Don’t wake me up. I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming.”

He puts one knee on the bed next to our embracing bodies, and the concern in his eyes for his little sister is enough to make me forget we ever left.

“It’s okay, Jen. It’s not a dream,” I reassure her. “We’re here.”

Jeb strokes her head, purposely skimming my cheek with a fingertip in the process. He doesn’t want to hurt his sister—he’s spent so many years protecting her. But he knows this is best for all of us, in the long run.

Still, it’s obvious he’s struggling and lost, like that little boy he once was.

I clasp his hand and drag him down so his body falls against me on my right side. He snuggles close enough that his soft breaths graze my ear, putting his arm across me and Jen so I’m sandwiched between my two favorite people. Together, the three of us cry and then laugh until we’re hiccuping.

For the first time in weeks, we’re together again. A family.

This feeling. Maybe this is how we find our way back to normalcy.

Once Jenara calms enough, she sits up, trying to slow her ragged breath. “Where have you been? We looked everywhere for you!” The accusation is directed at Jeb. “We thought you were—”

“I’m sorry,” Jeb rises to his knees, interrupting her before she can admit that they were thinking the worst.

I stay put, spine anchored to the mattress. Afraid to move.

“Al, maybe we should just tell her everything all at once,” Jeb says, his voice wavering.

“Including how I sent you there?” I grasp for the right words and fumble terribly.

Jenara’s watery green gaze falls on me. “Huh?” Understanding crosses her face. “Wait.” She scoots off the bed and stands, wobbly but determined. “The police were right? You knew where he was all along? But why would you . . . ?” She sobs again. “What about your mom? Where is she? And your dad? What’s going on?”