Pain exploded in Cat’s eyes. She screamed a brutal scream.

Eureka shoved Esme aside and swatted at the bees on Cat’s scalp, but they wouldn’t fly away. She tried to pick them out of Cat’s hair. They stung her hands and would not budge. They were a part of the base of Cat’s skull now, swarming the back of her head, stinging and re-stinging endlessly.

Esme staggered backward to rejoin the other witches. She was out of breath. “If you will carry Ovid as far as the threshold, we will take him from there.”

“The only thing you’re getting is out of here,” Eureka said.

“Be gone!” Solon said, taking courage from Eureka’s stand. “I’ve wanted to say that to you bitches for so long.”

“You’re not thinking, Solon,” the middle witch said. She and the old witch were supporting Esme, who looked faint. “Remember what happens when you can’t afford our glaze.…”

“Nothing lasts forever,” Solon said, and winked at Eureka.

“All your little enemies will find you,” the old witch said. “The big one will find you, too.”

“Solon,” Ander said, “if you let them drop the glaze—”

“Are the bad people coming back?” William leaned on Eureka. She hated that she could feel his rib cage through his shirt.

“Don’t cry,” she whispered automatically as she tended to Cat’s scalp. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It was too late. William’s tears fell on her shoulders, on her cheeks. Their innocence was startling, a sparkling jewel in the black rift. She changed her mind.

“Cry,” she said. “Cry it all out on me.”

William did.

“We will give you until midnight to change your mind,” the old witch said. “Then the glaze is gone.”

Solon stamped out his cigarette. He walked to where Cat whimpered woozily in Eureka’s arms. He kissed Cat’s cheek.

“As you wish.” Rage surged beneath the surface of Esme’s weakened voice. The other two witches flicked their tongues and four bees slowly returned to orbit their heads. The rest remained with Cat.

Carrying their crippled companion, the old and older gossipwitches lumbered back through the long, dark hall of skulls.

20

YET TROUBLE CAME

Around dusk, Eureka and Ander stood at the edge of the veranda and looked down at the Tearline pond. Solon had retreated to his workshop with Ovid, and the twins and Cat were resting in the guest room. Cat said the throb in her skull had dwindled to the level of a migraine. She barely felt the constant stings anymore; that pain was easier to bear than knowing what had happened to her family.

“Maybe it was just gossip,” Ander had said, but they all sensed that the witches spoke the truth.

Theyhad divvied up the last of the food—two small apples, a few gulps of water, the dregs of a box of muesli. After Eureka ate, hunger churned in her more fiercely than before. Her body was weak, her mind cloudy. She had not slept since waking from her nightmare of drowning in the wasted dead. Six nights remained until the full moon—if they even survived that long.

The rain had fallen for so long she didn’t feel it anymore. It had become as regular as air. She leaned over the veranda’s railing, touched Ander’s back so that he leaned over, too. Two blurry shapes looked up from the surface of the pond.

“You didn’t disappear just because you weren’t there in the Glimmering,” she said. “And I …”

“You’re not the face you saw, either?” Ander asked.

“I went to high school with that girl,” Eureka said. “Maya Cayce. We hated each other. We competed over everything. When we were young we used to be friends. Why would I see her in my reflection?”

“Somewhere all of this makes sense.” Ander’s fingers lightly traced her neck. “The question is: do we survive the journey there?”

Eureka turned from the reflection to the real. Her hands slid up Ander’s chest, her fingers twined around his neck—and she knew she shouldn’t. Her hands had murdered yesterday. They were out of food. The glaze would be gone by midnight.

“I wish we could stop everything and stand here forever.”

“Love can’t be stopped, any more than time,” Ander said softly.

“You’re talking like love and time aren’t connected,” Eureka said. “For you, they’re the same thing.”

“Some people measure time by how they fill it. Childhood is time, high school is time.” He touched her lips with a fingertip. “You have always been my time.”

“I would puke,” a voice said behind Ander, “but it might attract starving locals.”

Someone stepped from the shadows of the cherry tree. The witches must have dropped their glaze early. He had found them.

“Brooks,” Eureka said.

“Atlas.” Ander lurched forward. So did Brooks. Eureka was caught in the middle, both of their bodies against hers.

They would fight now. They would try to kill each other.

“Get out of here,” Eureka said quickly to Brooks.

“I think he’s the one who should get out,” Brooks said to Ander.

Ander’s lip curled in disgust. “You’re going to lose.”

Brooks’s face became a gruesome flash of rage. “I’ve already won.”

Ander drew the long orichalcum spear from its sheath at his hip. “Not if I slaughter that body before your world can rise.”