“But I come back, peep,” she said, with infinite gentleness. “Every damn time. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

When I shook my head, turning away, she put a light finger under my chin, turning my face back toward hers.

“Because that’s what it means to be a Harlow, my Emmy. Thistle Grove is where we become who we are. Which means that no matter where you turn, where you visit or escape to, this will always be the place that calls you back.”

22

You Beastly Child

Talia’s bedroom was not what I expected.

I’d arrived at The Bitters at half past eleven for the séance Talia and I had planned. Over the past few days, we’d all come up empty on practicable suggestions from our respective elders. The Thorns had chosen to stay out of our scheming altogether, and once I’d calmed down enough to give Nana Caro the scoop about the pact, she hadn’t had any secret battle magics up her sleeve, besides the sheer ferocity with which she approved of our intentions; as far as she was concerned, the Blackmoores had had it coming for a long, long time.

So unless you wanted to count Elena Avramov’s philosophical musings about what really constituted a curse—which Linden and I were not willing to do—we were back to square one.

Then inspiration struck, and Talia had the notion to summon Margarita Avramov’s spirit for help.

“And the best part is, it won’t be cheating,” Talia had said when we met to talk it over at Angelina’s Diner the day before, her eyes shining with that brash eagerness I was coming to recognize as her default state. “I won’t ask her anything about what’s going to happen, which is the biggest faux pas, right? I’ll just politely request any . . . thoughts and comments she might have on the Gauntlet. Leave it nice and open-ended, let the Dread Lady take it from there. I mean, she cowrote the rules, she’ll know what’s out of bounds.”

“Welp, that’s a no from me, buds!” Lin said, slapping her palms onto the table. “Count me right out. Any ancestor that goes by “Dread Lady” is one ancestor I do not need to meet.”

I considered the idea, arms crossed over my chest.

“I don’t think it violates any of the Gauntlet rules,” I said, with cautious interest. I was still so rattled by the revelations that had come to light at Nana Caro’s that even planning a risky-ish endeavor felt like a nice change of mental scenery. “I mean, we’ll be playing in the gray, like you said, but it’s not like soliciting advice is prohibited. If we’re careful about our wording, I think we should be in the clear.”

And though I wasn’t about to say so, I couldn’t deny a certain level of personal fascination. I’d never witnessed a true Avramov séance, which they kept locked down to members of their close-knit clan, and those who were willing to pay steeply for the privilege. And the thought of seeing Talia in her element, like she’d been that night in the Witch Woods, held its own glimmering appeal.