Surprised by this unexpected bit of kindness, Eleanor looked inside the bag. Instead of the hedgewitch’s potions and charms, the bag held a long skein of moonlight thread—and the three books from the Library. She gave the hedgewitch a startled look. Eleanor had left the books in her room. The hedgewitch could have hidden Claire’s book—or destroyed it. Why hadn’t she?

The hedgewitch stepped back. Eleanor shook her head. She didn’t know what to think or feel—and there wasn’t time to figure it out.

She turned back around. Otto and Pip caught her hands briefly, a single second of contact. Their hands dropped away quickly, but even that fleeting touch steadied her.

In that moment, Mr. January appeared at the edge of the light.

He did not step out of the shadows; he was simply there, facing away from them. And then his sisters appeared to his left and right, maybe twenty feet apart from one another. It was like the darkness had peeled back to reveal them.

Mrs. Prosper turned. Eleanor could see traces of Melia in her features, but they had grown more precise, more perfect. She looked at them with poisonous hatred. In the trees behind her, large, shadowy shapes moved, and Eleanor thought of the massive, mushroom-infested mucks with a thrill of fear.

Katie turned, and as she did, two other versions of her stepped free. They each stretched out a hand as Rag-a-bone and Shatterblack prowled up to flank them. One held the Editor’s quill, the other her inkpot. The Katie in the center had the book of Eden Eld clasped under one arm. A small satchel hung over her other shoulder.

And then Mr. January turned neatly on his heel, with a flourish of his cane. He peered at them with a twisted smile. With a clack-clack-clack of bones, the rattlebird swooped in, landing in the branches above him. The graveyard dog paced out of the darkness, a growl rumbling in his broad, deep chest.

“Well. Here we are,” Mr. January said, smooth as anything. “This isn’t what I had planned, of course, but it’s a marvelous bit of innovation on my sister’s part, don’t you think? She’s caught us up on all the tricks you got up to in your absence.”

“Did she tell you that we met you, Ash?” Eleanor asked.

To her surprise, he visibly recoiled. “That is not my name. It has not been for a very long time,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “My timeline does not include your little excursion. And soon all will be put right, as if it never happened.”

“We saw what happened to you there. Why would you want to go back?” Eleanor asked. The others glanced at her. This wasn’t part of the plan. But she wanted to understand.

“We were young and weak. Our parents taught us to be strong,” Mrs. Prosper said.