The room grew dim around her. Her head spun, and her hands fell to her side.
“If we cannot keep you hidden, we must prevent your being used as a weapon.” The other man spoke urgently, as if he knew she was close to passing out. “Understand that, child. No one is going to save you for your own sake.”
Evangeline had often wished her eleven-year-old self had been clever enough to renounce her father and declare that the eighth day must be upheld at any cost. But the fact was, they probably wouldn’t have believed her, and no answer would have changed the truth of what they said.
Nobody would ever care enough to save her for her own sake.
She gave up trying to sleep at dawn and went downstairs, where she discovered the books she’d requested on the kitchen counter—local history and geography. Jax had been thoughtful enough to get them, which made his failure to check on her last night even stranger.
When she looked outside, his house appeared the same as it had at midnight, but Evangeline shivered uneasily. The house gave off a feeling of emptiness. She couldn’t put her finger on why, but she felt very strongly that no one was home—and that no one had been home last night when she’d reappeared. Something’s wrong. Jax would have been here if he could have been.
She slipped outside and crossed the property line to crack open the door of their shed and peek inside. The motorcycle was there, and that caused her a stab of alarm. Both boys seemed to be absent from home without their usual means of transportation.
But they weren’t expected to report their travel plans to Evangeline. Fat Friend had a truck, and Black-Haired Girl had a car. The boys could have left with either one of them.
Walking up to the front door was harder than opening the shed. Despite her growing certainty that they weren’t home, it took all her bravery to mount the front steps. The door was unlocked and swung open, giving Evangeline her first glimpse inside.
Squalid was the word that came to mind.
The house was much smaller than Mrs. Unger’s and looked as if it had been decorated by an old woman and then fallen into the hands of unsupervised boys—boys who didn’t know how to use a vacuum and weren’t in a hurry to clean up dirty dishes. Inside-out sweatshirts lay draped over chairs, and balled-up socks littered the floor. On a low table in the living room, Evangeline spotted a sheath with Jax’s dagger in it and a walkie-talkie.
Where had Jax gone without his honor blade? Where had they both gone, leaving the front door unlocked?
She could scry for them. All she needed was a small, personal piece of each of them.
Now she grew bold, running upstairs. The absolute silence of the house assured her that she was alone, but this was still a violation of every rule she’d made for herself. She pushed open the door of the first bedroom and knew from the telescope leaning against a wall that it was Jax’s. She got what she wanted from a hairbrush on his bedside table, pulling out a few strands of brown hair and carefully tucking them into the back pocket of her jeans.
Now for the other one.
She ventured across the hall to the second bedroom. She had no right to snoop in his personal belongings, but she headed for his dresser anyway, where, amid scattered change, crumpled receipts, and gum wrappers, she found a comb with a few strands of auburn hair. She reached for them, but then her eyes fell on a photograph tucked into the corner of his mirror.
A girl—and not the black-haired one. How many girlfriends did Riley Pendragon have?
Evangeline felt foolish. She had no business doing this, and he wouldn’t thank her for spying on him. She turned away, but a sudden thought made her stop and look at the photo again.
The girl had auburn hair and a familiar smile. This wasn’t a girlfriend; this was family. Jax said Riley had no living relatives, but this girl was someone he’d been close to, someone he still missed, someone whose picture he cherished. A sister, most likely. Evangeline wished she had a picture of her sister.
With sudden resolve, she plucked the hair from his comb, pushed it into a different pocket, and left the house.
Back in Mrs. Unger’s kitchen, she filled a metal baking pan with water, carried it to the table, and cast Jax’s hair into it. While she waited for the water to grow still, she located saffron and put a few silky strands on her tongue to dissolve. She closed her eyes and recited the words of the incantation in the old language.
At first, when she opened her eyes, all she could see on the surface of the water was a reflection of the ceiling light above. Whispering the words of the spell, she leaned closer. The reflection wavered, and an image of Jax appeared. He was riding a bicycle—not his regular bike, but a very fancy one. Evangeline’s relief was quickly replaced by annoyance. She’d been worried about him, and he was fine. He hadn’t returned last night because in the seven days between her existence, he’d found something better to do.
Evangeline blinked to clear the image, and the pan of water returned to its normal state. Jax was perfectly safe, and Riley probably was, too. There was no reason to scry for him.
If she was smart, she’d stop now.
Biting her lip, Evangeline plucked Jax’s hairs out of the water and put the other ones in their place. She shook a few more threads of saffron out of the spice jar, laid them on her tongue, and repeated the incantation for the spell. It wasn’t very long before another image appeared in the water.
Riley was leaning against the side of Black-Haired Girl’s car. She had the roof up to protect the vehicle from the weather, but neither of them seemed to mind standing in the rain themselves. They were talking intently, and Riley slicked back his wet hair, looking worried. Black-Haired Girl smiled up at him, nudging him with an elbow. He relaxed a bit and grinned at her.
Evangeline splashed the water with her fingers, obliterating the image.
Riley was on a date, and Jax had gotten a new bike. How nice that they enjoyed such Normal lives.
She picked up the pan of water and threw it across the room into the sink. Water flew everywhere, and the pan hit the sink so hard that plates rattled in the cabinets.
When the doorbell rang a couple of hours later, Evangeline knew who it was. Only one person had the nerve to march up the front steps and press the button like that, over and over. When she didn’t answer, he started pounding. “Evangeline? Are you in there? I know you’re mad at me, but you’ve got to let me know you’re okay.” More pounding. “Evangeline?”
Finally she gave up and opened the door.
Jax exhaled with relief. “Look, you have every right to be angry, but I didn’t mean to leave you alone last night.” He rubbed his hand against his face, wiping off the misty rain. “Can I come in and explain?”
“No.”
“Will you come out?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry,” he began again.
“Jax.” She gripped the doorknob tightly, steeling herself. “I want you to leave me alone. No more messages or gifts. No lawn parties, no electricity. Just stop.”
He wilted. Evangeline bit her lip. It wasn’t his fault, and she owed him an explanation. “Your life goes by so fast for me,” she said. “I only catch glimpses of it, and I can’t participate.”
“Oka-a-ay,” he said, his brow furrowed. “But I don’t understand why we can’t be friends.”
“Because it hurts, Jax.”
She saw his eyes widen in understanding. His hands floundered, as if he were trying to come up with a response. Instead, he took a step backward and down, off the front stoop.
Evangeline closed the door.