I felt the power of the line reject Maisie. The ground in both worlds quaked as its energy reverberated around her, causing her image to shimmer like a mirage. Then, in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

The witches who had formed the circle around her looked shocked and horrified, but they held to their discipline, keeping their hands linked together. From the middle of the circle rose up the most beautiful ball of light I had ever seen. It turned at an angle that wasn’t possible in a world with only three dimensions and removed itself from their reality. The ball brushed against Emmet’s side as it disappeared from the witches’ world and entered into mine, growing ever larger and shining ever brighter.

I could still feel the point of Jackson’s blade pressed into my flesh, and with one last desperate move, he tried to stab me. But the orb expanded around us, burning into the shadow that had masqueraded as Jackson. A roar of flames drowned out his cries of rage and anguish and vexation as he disappeared into ash. The dagger he had been holding fell to the ground before me, landing blade first in the earth.

There was a brilliant flash of light, an effulgence that took over my body, and I felt the power of the line enter me, but before it could entirely settle in me, before I could even acknowledge the rapture pulsing inside, a second wave hit me—my own power. I was drowned by a feeling that lay somewhere between ecstasy and coming home.

When the light faded, when the elation subsided, I was no longer tied to the tree. I was in the center of the circle of thunderstruck witches, on a patch of burned earth that would never again grow a blade of grass.

THIRTY-THREE

“I ran into Peter this morning,” Ellen said as she unloaded a bag of organic fruit and vegetables from the farmer’s market onto the kitchen table. “He was walking on cloud nine. He’s ecstatic that you’re letting him take you in for the baby’s first sonogram.”

“He’s Colin’s father. Of course he’s going to be there,” I said.

Iris entered the kitchen with another bag of groceries and set it on the counter. “Well, call me old-fashioned, but if you’re going to marry the boy, I sure wish you’d do it before little Colin is born. It would be nice if both of his parents had the same last name on the birth certificate.”

“Stop pressuring her,” Oliver said, coming in on Iris’s heels. “The other nine families pester her plenty enough about taking over anchor duties. She doesn’t need any pressure from us.”

“Thank you, Uncle Oliver,” I said and with a snap of my fingers, I put away the groceries they’d carried in.

“Now you are just showing off,” Iris said, barely able to suppress a smile.

“Emmet says it’s good practice to start with the little things first,” I responded, crossing my arms and sticking out my tongue.

“You keep practicing like that, and it’ll be your butt growing, not your abilities,” Iris said and made a playful swipe at me with a dish towel.

“About Emmet,” Oliver said in a serious tone. “Are you sure you’re okay with spending time alone with him? I mean, aren’t you a little weirded out by him?”

When the power of the line had brushed past Emmet on its way to me, it had broken the nine intelligences he’d embodied off from their sources and had somehow melded them together into a single consciousness. Emmet was no longer a mere golem. He might not exactly be a real man, but for all intents and purposes he was close enough. I wasn’t sure if he had what you might call a soul, but who was I to judge?

“No,” I replied. “I was a little weirded out by him before, but now he seems right to me. And he’s the best teacher I could have hoped for,” I said. After all, he had maintained the knowledge of each of his nine creators.

After the investment, my aunts, uncle, and I had made a pact: no more lies or secrets, even if they were well-intentioned. I decided that the present would be as good at time as any to live up to my side of the bargain. “Listen, y’all. I’ve been thinking about something. Well, more than thinking about it…I’ve been working with Emmet on it.”

“And what might this ‘it’ be?” Iris asked, folding her arms and leaning back against the sink.

“I want to find Maisie,” I managed to say before the others piled up on me.

“The families will never allow it,” Ellen said, as if that should be the end of it.

“To hell with the families,” I responded. “I mean it. To hell with what they want and with what they’ll allow.”

“Gingersnap,” Oliver said, “you have to think about what’s best for you and your baby. We all loved Maisie, but you have to realize she’s probably dead. And even if she isn’t, I’m not sure you’d recognize what’s left of her as Maisie.”

“It’s out of the question,” Iris said. “She was going to sacrifice you. She lost her place in this family and her right to be in this world.”

“You said she tried to stop the investment at the last minute,” I said. “I heard her ask you all to stop it. I don’t believe she was capable of going through with her plans. You said something to her, Ellen. Right before. Something that changed her mind. What was it?”

Ellen looked at me, the corner of her mouth twitching as she spoke. “I told her that you and Peter were having a baby.”

“From what you’ve told us, Mercy,” Oliver said, “she may not have tried to stop the ceremony to save you. Maybe she just had second thoughts about harming Peter’s child.”

“I see,” I said, pushing my chair away from the table. “If you will all excuse me for a moment, I think I could use a little time alone.”

“You go on, sugar,” Iris said. “If you need anything, you call out, okay? I’ll be right there for you.”

Oliver had dedicated himself full time to clearing, cleaning, and painting the room across the hall from mine, getting it ready to serve as Colin’s nursery. Toys—some old, some new—lined a shelf that Peter had mounted the previous weekend. Peter’s old fire engine had pride of place, and I found myself unable to resist the urge to add something of my own to sit by its side.

I crossed the hall to my room and dug out the box of toys I’d been saving ever since I’d outgrown them myself. As I rifled through it, the old Ball jar Maisie had given me for our birthday pressed itself into my hand. I pulled it free. Inside danced the flames of the nineteen memories that Maisie had captured for me before the drawing of the lots, back when I had still believed she loved me in spite of my selfish heart. I opened the lid and watched as they flew out. With trepidation I reached out and touched the closest. I found myself sitting in this very same room at an incredibly small table. Maisie and I were having a tea party for the new dolls Aunt Ellen and “Uncle” Erik had brought us from their vacation in Europe. The memory faded.

I reached out again, this time with more determination, and touched a spark that seemed to be trying to escape me. Warmth flooded through me, and I relived the experience of my first dance recital with my sister. Our performances were laughable, but we were both certain that we were destined to be ballerinas when we grew up. It was written in the stars. And then it was over.

I looked at the remaining flames and gasped. It took a moment for me to realize that it wasn’t just my imagination—they had lined up in a single row and were moving away from me. No, they weren’t just moving away from me, they were trying to lead me to Maisie. As the realization hit me, the flames flew back to me and danced around me. “All right,” I said. “But for now, I need to wait.” The flames obediently returned to the jar. I closed the lid on them and returned the jar to the box of toys, burying it deep inside the closet.