“There are weaknesses,” he says. “Fault lines in the fabric between worlds. Sometimes, people Fall through them. And when a Pathfinder Falls for the first time, or a Normal Falls by some cosmic blunder, there’s a disturbance—a signal—and we can feel it. The closest Pathfinder responds. Like an Uber. Count yourself lucky that in your case it was me. I’m a five star.”

His eyes hold mine. Then he grins.

“And now?” I ask. “What now?”

Malik pushes himself off my bed. “Now we go,” he says.

Go? Together? Just him and me?

“Go where?” I say, willing myself not to leap across the room and smooth down the duvet, where he’s left his still-warm, bum-shaped indentation.

“We’re not alone,” he says. “There are others. You’ll meet them. It’s your only hope. Your only chance of getting her back—your friend.”

“Her name’s Bea.”

“Bea then.”

“And why should I trust you, Malik Habib?”

“Because, Ana Moon, what choice do you have? You’ve seen them, haven’t you? It took your friend. It has her.”

Cold fear. A stone in my gut. I let my fist fall to my thigh and dig a knuckle into the meat of my leg until it hurts.

“So,” he says, watching me. “You have seen them. Big and ugly as sin. Eyes like black holes. We call them Reapers.”

“I don’t know what I saw.”

“You’re not listening,” he says. “Listen to me.”

“Why? You think I’m obligated to listen to everything you say? The hell with that. Welcome to the twenty-first century, mate.”

“What? No. I was—”

“You’re damn right I’m not listening to your crazy Matrix mumbo jumbo. I can—”

“You’d prefer to stay here, is that it? Those two men in the room next door, they’re not your fathers. They may look like them, they may even behave like them, but they are not them. And there’s something else too. Something you’ve realised.”

“Like what?”

“They suspect, Ana. They can sense you’re not theirs—the one they love. To them, you’ve changed. You’re different.”

And I realise something with a jolt. I might not belong here, but somebody does. A girl, someone Gad and the Old Man were expecting. A girl whose room we’re standing in, who should be here right now.

Me, but not me. Another Ana Moon.

“What have you done with her?” I whisper, fighting a tumult of thoughts. “The other…the person that…”

“Don’t worry,” Malik says. “She’s been taken care of.”

My jaw drops. “Taken care of, taken care of?” I make a gun out of my thumb and forefinger and point at my temple.

“No. Geez. Relax. This isn’t some film. I’m not the godfather. I mean the others have her, and they’ll bring her back. Once we’re safely out of the way.”