As Eureka hiked over rocks and approached the back of the veranda, the first silhouette stepped out of the rainbow. It was a boy about her age, wearing a baggy, mud-splattered suit. The suit was familiar, though the body wearing it looked vastly different from the last time she had seen it. The boy faced her and narrowed his eyes.

Albion had killed Rhoda, abused the twins. He was the mind behind Diana’s murder. He looked eighteen instead of sixty, but Eureka was certain it was him.

Three more Seedbearers stepped out of the rainbow. Chora. Critias. Starling. All of them were young. They looked like teenagers dressed in their grandparents’ clothes.

Eureka hauled herself over the rail. She was sore and bleeding. Solon had brought the Seedbearers here on purpose. Why? The rainbow broke off at his lips. What remained hung in the air in colored particles, then drifted to the ground like psychedelic leaves.

The hooded mask he wore looked as pliant as cotton, but was made of tightly woven black chain mail, so thin that up close it was transparent. Beneath the mask, Solon looked a million years old.

“Don’t be alarmed,” Solon said, his voice muffled. “It’s merely a mask over a mask over a mask.”

“What’s going on?” Eureka asked.

“My masterpiece.” Solon looked into the night sky, now darker and more dismal without the glorious light. “Those colored rays of breath pave a Seedbearer highway that connects us anywhere in the world.”

“Why would you do this?”

He patted her cheek. “Let’s greet our guests.” Through the mask, Solon’s smiling eyes surveyed the figures before him. “Eureka, I think you’ve had the pleasure of meeting these four tubes of crap.”

The Seedbearers stepped forward, as bewildered as Eureka.

“Hello, cousins!” Solon bellowed merrily.

“It took three-quarters of a century,” Chora said, “but the fool has finally come around. To what do we owe the pleasure, Solon?”

Solon’s laughter echoed behind his mask.

“Take off that ridiculous mask.” Albion’s voice was startling in its youthful timbre.

“Your bitterness seems to be treating you well,” Solon said.

“We have grown strong on hatred and revulsion,” Albion said. “Whereas poor Solon walks like an autumn leaf in its last throes. Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love again?”

“It has always seemed to me that hate is a form of love,” Solon said. “Try hating someone you don’t care about. Impossible.”

“You betrayed us, and now you are pathetic,” Chora said. “Our business is with Ander. Where is he?” She glanced around. Eureka did, too, fearful of what had happened to Ander, to Brooks’s body, to Atlas.

“Ah, there they are!”Starling grinned. Her long braid was now a lustrous blond. “The little streaks of piss we should have killed when we had the chance.”

Cat and the twins emerged onto the veranda. Cat’s head was still abuzz with bees.

“Go back!” Eureka ran toward them.

“Speaking of Ander,” Solon mused, pausing to cough into the sleeve of his robe, “I’ve been wondering just how does he stay so young? I’ve never seen a boy more swallowed whole by love—yet since he arrived at the Bitter Cloud he hasn’t looked a day over eighteen. Don’t you think that’s odd, Albion?”

Ever since Eureka had learned what love did to a Seedbearer, she’d found new evidence of age on Ander every hour. But now, observing Solon’s shocking old age and the other Seedbearers’ return to youth, Eureka saw how extreme the changes in them were.

Did that mean Ander didn’t really love her?

“Where is Ander?” Chora repeated. “And will you please take off that ridiculous mask. My God,” she said, getting an idea. “Do you require oxygen to breathe?”

“He always was a heavy smoker,” Starling said.

“A Seedbearer with emphysema,” Critias said. “What an idiot.”

“It’s true my lungs are as black as the blues,” Solon said, “but I wear this mask for quite a different purpose. It is loaded with artemisia.” His finger hovered over a silver dot on the side of his mask. “To activate it, all I have to do is press this button.”

“He’s lying,” Chora said, but her fearful voice betrayed her.

Solon grinned behind his mask. “Don’t believe me? Shall I demonstrate?”

“What are you doing?” Eureka cried. “You’ll kill Ander, too.”

Albion’s head snapped toward her. His eyebrows lifted. “Going to weep again?” He drew near, holding a vial the same shape as the lachrymatory Ander had used, but a far less intricate one made of dull steel.

Eureka wasn’t going to cry. She slapped at the lachrymatory in Albion’s hand and grabbed him by his throat. She tightened her grip. The Seedbearer wheezed. He tried to push her off, but Eureka was stronger.

Albion looked different from the last time they faced each other, but Eureka had changed even more. She saw that he feared her. She snarled at him, dark rage in her eyes.

William began to cry. “Don’t kill anyone else, Reka.…”

From the corner of her eye, Eureka saw William standing with Cat and Claire, sad and skinny and filthy. He wasn’t the same boy who used to catapult into her bed every morning, spilling action figures across her sheets while she picked clumps of dried maple syrup from his hair. Eureka loosened her grip.