I google turtledove locket 1830s because I can’t think of what else to do and pull up several pages of antique lockets for sale. I click on one and find a whole page on the history of lockets. Lockets were apparently very in vogue during the Victorian era. They’d been around since Queen Elizabeth I, who wore one carrying a photo of her mother, Anne Boleyn. Queen Victoria, who had been alive when Thalia and Lily were, had carried on the tradition, wearing a necklace containing eight pendants, one for each of her children. When her husband, Prince Albert, died, she’d even worn a mourning locket.

I can’t find any with a turtledove etching, but when I google turtledove meaning, I find lots of information. Turtledoves are a symbol of love and friendship, and everywhere I read it says that turtledoves appear in a set of two.

If Thalia had cursed her sister, why would Lily have been trying so hard to find her? And why did she care so much about the locket? Had Thalia stolen the locket engraved with Lily’s name?

I let out a groan. It’s all so confusing. I’m not sure how this information will help us with Sage’s directive to Find Lily, but I am dying to get back to the house to try.

The door between my and my mom’s room is slightly ajar, and I throw off the covers and hurry over. Her room is empty, her laptop and binders missing from the desk. It’s slightly alarming to find her gone. Besides her meetings with Simon and her willow tree ritual, she basically hasn’t moved from her desk since we got here.

I text Mason. Going back over, can you come meet me?

My phone chimes a moment later, but it’s my mom. Awake? I’m posted up working from a coffee shop. I can order you breakfast.

I hesitate for a moment. My mom and I have somehow managed to see each other even less than we usually do, but I’m too eager to get to Sage’s to waste any more time. I do a quick search on my phone of places to see in Salem, then respond. Mason invited me to tour House of Seven Gables with him. That okay with you?

She responds. Of course. Enjoy.

I take the fastest shower possible. Mason or not, the house is calling to me like a siren. Maybe that’s why Frederick painted mermaids; everything about Thalia makes you feel like diving in, no concern for safety.

I’m pushing my way through the hotel doors, wet hair still dripping on my shoulders, when I nearly trip over Mason, who is camped out on the steps, a cardboard drink holder and a Dunkin’ bag beside him.

“Mason!”

He jumps to his feet. “Finally. I thought you were going to sleep all day. I’ve already had three coffees.”