I hear a sigh through the door. I can almost see Malik standing there. I imagine his hand on the door, palm against the wood.

“Listen, they want to talk to you…about Bea,” he says. “Gabe and the others.”

“Fine. Just…gimme a second.”

I hear him run his hand over the door, then I hear him push away and his footsteps fade down the corridor.

I take a deep breath and think about Bea and the last time I saw her. On the Circle Line. And the Reaper, coming through the carriage. I think about the Old Man and his yoga poses, about Frankie standing at her state-of-the-art espresso machine, then lifting Zig into the air, and something breaks inside me.

Is the world I left behind dead?

Am I dead?

I feel dizzy, light-headed.

I grip the sides of the basin and stare at my reflection, hollow-eyed.

Who am I? Is this me?

Or is it a sheared-off version of me, a cutaway Ana Moon? A new Ana Moon. Reborn. I remember how I felt in that alley. The way my body moved, as of its own volition. I take a deep breath and compose myself.

The only thing I know with any certainty is this: nothing will ever go back to the way it was. Not really. This is me now.

The girl with the khopesh blade.

25

Gabriel—Gabe—is leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom door. When I emerge, he kicks away from the wall with a smile and asks if I mind following him.

Mother’s final words come back to me.

GO! Find Gabriel. Now FALL!

We take a limestone staircase that’s worn to a shine. It carries us in a tightening spiral to the roof and, when he opens the outside door, Gabe ushers me inside a conservatory. The air hits us like a wall, warm and humid. Multiple species of tangled plants climb eagerly to a curved glass roof and beyond lies the reality of Ares. Devastation. Ash. Fires, like flickering stars in the distance.

“An oasis in hell,” Gabe says.

He guides me through a narrow path with ferns reaching for us on either side. The pathway gives on to a courtyard and here sits an oval table. The table is bare save for a bottle of red wine and seven glasses. Around the table sit six people. There are two free seats. Gabe pulls back one of these for me and takes the other.

I sit down and place my hands on the table. Polished rosewood. Frankie has something similar in the front room. Except, carved into the middle of this table is an extraordinary etching of seven interlinked rings. The multiverse.