“Yeah, didn’t you get the note?”

“Yes. That’s the problem. You ran away with the circus and left a note?” I’ve never heard her snap like that before.

“They’re magicians, and I didn’t run away. I’m eighteen.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and then she sighs. “I know, but this wasn’t your plan.”

“Plans change.”

We sit in silence for a moment, and I’m wondering if I should hang up when she starts talking again. “You didn’t… you didn’t have to run. I would have understood if you didn’t want to be adopted. It wouldn’t have hurt my feelings. I know that must have been a complicated ask. I’m sorry I sprung it on you like that.” Her voice isn’t angry anymore. It’s sad.

It’s the sadness that kills me a little bit. “It wasn’t that.” Part of it was, but I try to make my voice as earnest as possible. “This is my dream. I wanted to follow it, and I knew you would take care of Parker for me. Right?”

“Always.” Her voice is strong. “But Ava, you can come home anytime.”

“Thanks,” I choke out. But Deb’s house isn’t my home, and I can’t go back to my real one. I hang up before she can say anything else. I don’t want her to say she loves me or something.

Everyone’s watching me. Even Roman and Willow. I glare at Roman, and he has the decency to move away and tug Willow after him. They both pause in the archway, framed by the tangle of roses—Roman in a black suit, looking like some sort of gothic prince, and Willow trailing right behind him with her long, tangled hair and a flowing white dress that makes her look like a wraith. Roman casts one look over his shoulder at me before they step through and disappear into the fog that seems to be trapped inside.

I follow. The vines grab at me, and I have to twist around them to stop them from snagging on my clothes as I step through the arch. Rosebushes surround me on both sides. The fog is so dense it’s hard to see in any direction, but we continue down a path made of stepping-stones with pebbles between them. As the fog twirls and shifts around us, I catch glimpses of red beneath my feet, and for a moment I think they’re petals from the rosebushes lining the walkway, but they’re tiny red stones as small as drops of blood.