As he stumbled out into the sunlight, which now seemed too strong to his eyes, the countless other questions he had welled up inside: Why did Mom go on for so long without it happening to her? When did it begin? What were the first signs?

And why was Nadia mixed up in it all?

But there were no answers, only the sure knowledge that tonight, when he slept, he would dream again. Once the madness began, it never stopped.

Nadia hung around after school as long as possible, speaking to no one, in hopes of slipping back into the chemistry lab. Of course, she didn’t have her materials with her, the various powders and bones necessary for more complicated magical work … but there had to be some kind of simple spell that would reveal the force underneath more completely.

“Hey.”

Startled, Nadia glanced over to see Faye Walsh standing at the far end of the hallway, a patent-leather file folder in one hand. “Oh. Hi.”

“Looking for something?” In other words, Do you have a reason for loitering on school grounds, or do you want to get a move on?

She’d have to try again another day. “I was just … finishing some stuff up. I’m headed out.”

Ms. Walsh nodded. “Have a good evening.” At least she did Nadia the courtesy of not watching her the whole way out.

So Nadia started home; the walk wasn’t too far, and though she’d only traveled it once, she figured this town wasn’t big enough to get really lost in. It was kind of weird, though, being surrounded by trees and quiet instead of the bustle of city life. Nadia felt safer in crowds. This kind of setting—with nothing but the sky overhead, nobody much around—she associated with trashy true-crime TV. They always put the abduction reenactments in settings like this, showed the cell phone or purse abandoned on the ground.

Nobody’s going to snatch you. Besides, you could protect yourself if they tried. She knew those spells backward and forward, could do them if she was drugged or stunned or anything. That was basic witchcraft self-defense.

Nadia cut across the running track on her way toward the road that led back to her house. There was a little patch of trees back there—probably where the stoners hung out, though right now nobody was around. Somebody’s ancient car, a maroon land yacht from the 1970s or something, was parked nearby but empty. No sound broke the eerie stillness that surrounded her.

It’s not eerie, Nadia reminded herself. Outside Chicago, you can actually hear things like the wind through the trees. Or—wait, what is that?

The rumbling sounded like an earthquake, or at least what Nadia thought an earthquake might sound like. Then the ground began shaking beneath her feet.

Earthquakes in Rhode Island? Nadia grabbed at the trunk of the nearest tree, right at the outskirts of the grove, to steady herself.

But it wasn’t an earthquake.

The ground just—sank. In front of her, an entire trench opened up, dirt flying and trees tilting, all of it sloping into the new ditch. Nadia gaped as the lone car tilted onto one side and slid down into the trench.