Danny has been trying to reason it away, and Rush has been afraid to let herself feel this again but it rolls over both of them as their lips open and a secret warmth passes between them. The dull, obvious reasons they shouldn’t do this still exist, but there is no room for them as Rush’s hands claim Danny’s hips, and Danny’s fingers slide over the pink silk ribbons of Rush’s cheeks. She sinks fingers deep into the earthy brown of Rush’s hair.

Danny thinks, wildly, that she is finding one more thing that she needs, even if she has to keep it a secret, even if it never happens again, even if no one else cares.

This matters. They matter.

Rush and Danny kiss and kiss so they don’t have to talk about Imogen or Emma. They kiss and pretend, for a minute, that they are the only ones who matter. They kiss as night coats them in a first, thin layer of darkness that feels like it could be peeled off with careful fingers.

But it’s only going to get darker.

Danny: Now

When I spin away from Rush, I’m aware of so many things.

The first is that she kisses like a wave breaking.

The second is that if I don’t stop, now, I might never be able to.

The third is that every cell in my body is awake, and when I feel like that, magic can’t be far behind.

“I need to dowse,” I mutter, running toward the Deathmobile.

“Now?” Rush asks, close at my heels.

“That kiss . . .” That kiss was a million things. It was everything I needed and wanted and shouldn’t have done. But I don’t tell Rush any of that. “I’m pretty sure it gave my magic a boost.”

When I get to the car, I grab my bag and pull out the dowsing rod. I untie the black string holding the raven feather, careful not to ruffle it. Then I settle the feather into the crook of the bow, messing up the knots because my fingertips have gone numb and stupid at the touch of Rush’s skin.

Rush comes up behind me, slipping her cello back into the trunk. After she bangs the lid of the trunk down three times to close it, she offers me a soft black case that matches the bow.

“Thanks,” I say, pinching the final knot into place.

I want to grab her again and kiss her until our minds drain of every thought, every memory of dead boys and lost girls. Instead, I hold up the new dowsing rod, and power sings through me.

“It’s a few miles,” I say, as confidently as if I’m looking at a map. I point past the cemetery, away from Tempest.

“Can you feel her?” Rush asks, leaving Imogen’s name unspoken. “Did she send another message?”