An argument about homework drifted up from a trio of girls down on the street. A trio of girls who weren’t family and wouldn’t survive if the asteroid hit. Family would. They wouldn’t. One of them was thrilled that calculus had finally gotten them into applied math. Charlie’s personal relationship with math ended with perfect fifths and diminished thirds, but that was no reason math geeks should die.

“I step up to the mic, that’s what I do.” She’d never gotten stage fright, not from her first school pageant to the last thrown beer bottle. This was no time to start.

Could she slip into the Wood between the indignant noises the pigeons made as they searched the roof for more muffin?

As one, the pigeons took to the air, circled once, and landed across the street on the roof of the bank.

Apparently not. Or at least not yet.

Probably best to head to the courtyard and out between the viburnums, avoiding questions and answers both.

It was easy enough to get her guitar from her room, and although she could hear the twins in the living room, she slipped out of the apartment without being spotted.

Unfortunately, Allie was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “Where are you going?”

Second circle was all about connections. It was possible, Charlie realized, that Allie’d felt her decision to leave. That she’d felt all of her decisions to leave but, until now, had chosen to let her go. She remembered what she’d told Jack about Allie needing to keep people close and smoothed the edges off her response. “I’m going to the park.” Not a lie. And the park was only ever and always would be Nose Hill.

“Why?”

“I want to try something.”

And years of it’s a Wild thing paid off as Allie shook her head without asking what that something was. “Charlie, we need you to help with the real estate listings. Not everyone is going to want to sell. A charm and a fair price will only go so far.”

“Wait until after ritual.”

“After is four days away. If it doesn’t work . . .”

Charlie twitched before realizing Allie had been referring to the ritual. Allie had no idea of what she was about to attempt.

“. . . or Jack doesn’t come back with the solution, I want to hit the ground running. I need to know how much of the city I can protect. And if it doesn’t work, you’re going to be needed after to ferry family to Aus . . .” It took Charlie a moment to realize Allie was frowning at a dull patch on the guitar’s headstock where the varnish had peeled off. “Is that the guitar you bought in Cape Breton? The one that helped you chase the storm?”

“Yes.”

“And deal with the oil rigs?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”