The trance was broken. Memphis fell back onto the floor with a hard thud. He was wet with sweat and shaking. He’d been to the healing place. He’d seen his mother in that world.
“Memphis. What you doing on the floor?”
Isaiah was awake and looking at him with sleepy eyes, as if it were any old morning.
“Isaiah?” Memphis choked out. “Isaiah?”
“That’s my name. You sure acting funny,” Isaiah said, stretching. “I’m thirsty.”
His brother was healed. He was healed, and Memphis had done it. His palms still tingled from the touch. He hadn’t lost the gift; it was back. Memphis gathered Isaiah up into his arms, crying.
“Whatsa matter?
“Nothing. Nothing, little man. Everything’s just fine now.”
“I’m still thirsty.”
“I’ll get you something to drink. Stay right here. Don’t go nowhere.”
“Anywhere,” Isaiah corrected sleepily.
“That, too.”
Memphis ran to the kitchen and stuck a glass under the tap, willing it to fill faster. “Thank you,” he said, though he didn’t know who he was saying it to, or why. He turned off the water and hurried back to Isaiah’s side.
Outside the kitchen window, lightning crackled high in the clouds. The crow looked on in silence.
THE COMING STORM
Evie, Theta, and Mabel walked out into the clear, crisp afternoon. It was a bright, cloudless day; the air felt newly born, and Evie had a hankering for a new hat. It had been four days since she’d faced down John Hobbes, the Beast, in that small room. Four days since she’d trapped his soul in her most sacred relic and let it go in order to save them all. Even now, her hand went to her bare neck under her scarf, wishing for the weight of it. She’d not had a single dream since, but she tried not to think about it. She tried not to think about any of it. She and Uncle Will had barely spoken of that night. He seemed even more remote than before, cloistered away with his books and newspaper clippings till he was almost a ghost himself. Later, she would ask him about the Diviners. She would ask him how she would know if there were others like her, and how she could make her power stronger, more within her control. There was so much Evie wanted to know. But that could all wait. For now, she, Mabel, and Theta were on the trolley, headed to a hat shop Theta knew about, where Evie intended to buy a new cloche with a ribbon tied into an elaborate bow to signal that she was single and quite available. This was their city. This was their time. She’d promised Mabel they’d make the most of it, and she intended to fulfill that promise at last.
The trolley idled at a light and just before it moved again Sam hopped on the outside, holding fast to the bars at Evie’s shoulder.
“Hiya, ladies,” he said.
“Sam! Let go!” Evie scolded.
Sam peered behind him at the rapidly moving street. “Seems like a bad idea.”
“I’m still amazed they let you out of the Tombs.”
“Chalk it up to my charm, sister. I did manage to make off with some handcuffs, though.” His smile suggested something naughty and Evie rolled her eyes.
“Just wanted to let you know I’ll be gone for a few days,” he told her.
“I’ll wear a black veil and cry all night.”
Theta and Mabel giggled and looked away.
“You’ll miss me. I know you will, sister.” He gave her one of those wolfish grins.
“Hey!” the conductor called. “Get down from there!”
“Sam, you’re going to get in trouble!”
Sam grinned. “Aw, baby, I thought you loved trouble.”
“Will you get down before you kill yourself?”
“Broken up about my well-being?”
“Get. Down.”
Sam leaped from the trolley, nearly upending a woman pushing a pram. “Sorry, ma’am.” He brushed his hands clean and shouted after them, “One day, Evie O’Neill, you’re gonna fall head over heels for me!”
“Don’t hold your breath!” Evie shouted back.
Sam mimed an arrow through the heart and fell down. Evie laughed in spite of herself. “Idiot.”
Theta’s eyebrow inched up. “That boy’s got it bad for you, Evil.”
Evie rolled her eyes. “Don’t kid yourself. It has nothing to do with me. That boy only wants what he can’t have.”
Theta looked out at the bright lights of Broadway, winking into existence against the dusk. “Don’t we all?”
By the time Evie reached the museum, it was dark and the day’s last visitors had gone. Humming a tune she’d heard on the radio, she dropped her scarf, coat, and pocketbook on a chair and made her way to the library. The doors were slightly ajar, and an unfamiliar woman’s voice came through the crack.
