“But it’s not just you anymore,” Eleanor said. “And even if it was, we would still help you, because you’re our friend, and we don’t want to lose you!” Her voice rose until she was almost yelling, her hands balled up into fists at her sides. How could Pip be so stubborn? Did she want to forget them?

“I’m not getting rid of the warrior,” Pip said, shouting just as loudly as Eleanor. “Not until you’re safe! Not until my dad is safe and the triplets are safe and everyone is safe, which they can’t be until I win!”

“Until we win,” Otto said quietly. Pip looked at him, panting a little, her hair sticking to her face. “You aren’t on your own, Pip.”

“I know. Sometimes it feels like I am, though,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Otto said. “I know what you mean.”

Ben, who had been looking rapidly between them as they spoke, stepped forward. Wordlessly, he wrapped Pip up in a one-armed hug. With the other, he grabbed Eleanor—then reached out and snagged the collar of Otto’s shirt, yanking him in. “You kids,” he said roughly, and his voice broke. “I had no idea what you were dealing with. You are amazing. All of you.”

For a moment they stood there, leaning into Ben’s comforting warmth. Then Pip pulled away, swiping a hand over her face to hide a sniffle. “I’m just saying,” she said, her voice cracking, “we have other things we need to deal with first. Starting with finding out what’s wrong with Eden Eld.”

“I should think that would be obvious by now,” the hedgewitch said, entering with Thea in tow. “You are.” She looked right at Eleanor.

“Me?” Eleanor said, brow wrinkling.

“You and your careless, graceless tearing through the Wending. You have no skill, no precision. You fling your will at it without focus, and it picks up everything you’re thinking. You wanted more time and you were thinking about the People Who Look Away, so it flung you into the past and right into their path, and dragged me along with you. Then you ripped Thea out of her time, demanding it take you back to Eden Eld—only which Eden Eld? The one you’re constantly obsessed over. The Eden Eld of Halloween. It’s only doing what your thoughts tell it to, because you haven’t bothered to control them,” the hedgewitch said. “Oh. Hello, Bartimaeus.”

“Hedgewitch,” Bartimaeus said uncomfortably, shifting somewhat nervously from one foot to the other. She gave him an unimpressed look.

“You’re still alive, then.”