Eight: the number of yarn shops Farooq-Lane had visited until the oldest Liliana found enough skeins in the color that she said would suit Farooq-Lane. This Liliana had a good sense of when visions were coming on, which meant time with her could be spent less on survival and more on creature comforts. Ancient Liliana was very much about domestic pleasures. Knitting! She was intent on teaching Farooq-Lane, because she remembered teaching her.

This was the strangest part of the oldest Liliana—she remembered a lot of what she’d already lived through, and a lot of that seemed to involve Farooq-Lane. In her past. In Farooq-Lane’s future. Somewhere along their collective timelines. Thinking about it too hard hurt Farooq-Lane’s brain.

“Thank you for standing up for me,” the old Liliana told her once, in her precise, gentle way. “About turning the visions inward.”

“Did you remember me doing that?” Farooq-Lane asked.

“It was a very long time ago. So it was a lovely surprise to be reminded. Well. Not a surprise. A gift. I knew you were a good person.”

Farooq-Lane wished she’d met Liliana before she’d met the Moderators.

Seven: how many meetings the Moderators held to work out the logistics of an attack that would occur without being in the presence of a tree at any stage. A good deal of these get-togethers were devoted to debating if getting information from trees was even possible. Farooq-Lane thought disbelief was a waste of time when their quarry was also impossible.

Some of these meetings were spent discussing the Potomac Zeds. Their backgrounds, their families, their hopes and dreams. They got ahold of Jordan Hennessy’s father and asked him if he had any idea where she was.

“I thought she was already dead,” Bill Dower said. He sounded disappointed, if he sounded anything at all. “Huh.”

They got ahold of Ronan Lynch’s boyfriend’s Harvard roommate.

“They broke up after he trashed our dorm,” the student said in a plummy voice. “I never expected to hear his name again, honestly. What did he do now?”

They tried to find Ronan Lynch’s brothers, but after the attack that had cost Bellos his arm, Declan and Matthew Lynch had gone off the radar.

“Their stuff is gone from the town house,” one of the Moderators said, somewhat impressed. “Did anyone see them come back for it?”

No one had.

And no one knew a damn thing about Bryde.