“We’ll find her,” I say, even though it might not be true. Jane might not be in the city at all. Hell, by now, she might not even be in the state.

Across the room, someone calls out our names. Daisy, elbowing her way through the crowd. “I just met a girl,” she says, breathless. “A Jane. Do you want to come and see if she’s the one?”

In her exuberance, Daisy doesn’t even give Bee a chance to answer. She seizes her by the arm and drags her away from me, the two of them vanishing into the crush of bodies. Bee looks back once, and I want to go after her, but my head whirls, all these heartbeats thrumming inside me.

Still clutching the urn, I stumble through a beaded curtain into the next room. It’s quieter in here, and darker too, the windows blocked out with cardboard, the overhead bulb flicked off. Somebody’s got a liquid light show going, a small projector on the floor beaming splotches of color across the cracked plaster. Navy blue and daffodil yellow and a deep juniper green, the shapes pulsing and churning, a kaleidoscope so bright it’ll make your eyes numb. When it gets to the color red, it looks like rage incarnate.

There’s one other girl in here, smudged cheeks and long blond hair, smoking a joint. She starts to breeze past me but turns back suddenly.

“What’s the deal with that thing?” She glares at the urn, jabbing her finger accusingly in its direction. “And why’s it keep talking at me? Is it like a magic trick?”

My hands tighten around the urn. “You could say that.”

The girl raises an eyebrow. “Does it grant three wishes?”

“No,” I say. “It takes away all your wishes instead. Your hopes and dreams, too.”

At this, her face goes strangely blank.

“Bummer,” she says, and passes me the joint like a consolation prize. I take a long drag off it but feel nothing. Of course I don’t. I’m dead. That means you don’t get to have any fun at all.

The projector cycles through its colors again, and I watch, a little mesmerized, as the red returns. A couple guys with headbands, their pulses slow and steady, wander in and cross over the projector beam, and for a moment, the splatter of light looks like a crime scene across their bodies. I like it more than I should. I need to get out of here before I do something that I’d like even more.

I sneak back through the beaded curtain, the urn pressed tight against me, as Bee returns, entirely deflated. The girl across the room turned out to be an ordinary Jane, not the proper Jane.

Daisy shrugs, undeterred. “There’s another party over on Waller,” she says. “We could go there next.”