Awa dropped down by a hot spring steaming out of heather-covered rocks. Even bleary with exhaustion, she was as graceful as … Samina riding a thirty-foot wave under the scar moon. A crow cawed, and Djola blinked this memory away. Awa dipped her feet in warm water and stuck her head into a cloud of steam. Her bee clan buzzed around an enormous hive. Would they be let in? Cathedral trees waved bushy crowns filled with rare songbirds. Purple vines crawled up the trunks. All else was the white, black, and gray of moonlight and dreams. On a ridge high above the trees, someone played a frozen waterfall. Icy tones made Djola shiver.

“Do you live for change, not revenge?”

The cracks in his heart quaked. No seed and silk potion dulled his sensibilities. Samina slid down elephant leaves like dew dripping into shadows. She was shade and memory, the afterglow of life. A cloak of sleet covered her breasts and frothed at hips and ankles. Her heart beat a lightning storm. Bare feet were whisper quiet on ash-colored grass. Djola wanted to run far away or swallow poison and die in her arms. Actually, he longed to rush through the gloom and gather her close. But her skin would feel like death; her breath would be a cold ache sucking warmth and spirit. Djola kept his distance. Samina was a haint, close kin to Hezram’s fiends, deadly and unpredictable.

Unaware of Samina behind her, Awa shook mist from her hair and studied Djola. She pulled a gray marble eye from her Aido bag. “Try this.” She dropped it in Djola’s gloved hand. “Rogue impulse.” She gestured at his blank eye.

“Nothing to lose.” Djola pressed the marble into the socket. It dissolved with a flash of light and searing pain, a knife through his head. He winced as shadowy grays burst into colors. Samina looked as she did when alive. Her sandy skin was tinged green, her silver hair streaked red. Blue-violet eyes sparkled.

“Can you see?” Awa peered at him. “Better?”

When Djola nodded, Awa drew a metal wheel from her Aido bag and faster than thought pressed it through the crossroads Vévés on his chest. Howling, Djola yanked her hand out. “What is this?” He stared at a golden wheel spinning over the cracks in his heart. He took a deep breath. Vigor returned as the wheel burned bright.

“Jumbajabbaland gifts. Bal gave them to me.” Awa grinned. “A conjurer stole Bal’s memories to protect her from her parents’ dangerous lives. Yari would do that for you and Samina, so perhaps my Bal is your Bal.”

Djola wanted to disagree and agree.

“Choose what to believe.” Awa sank down near the giant hive. Bees swarmed her.

“Yes, choose,” Samina said, drifting close. Snowflake tattoos glinted.

Awa turned. “Kurakao! You’re here.” She tried to sit up. “I kept my promise.”