“We’ll never be apart,” Ada vowed, her hands cupping Imogen’s face as she thumbed tears away. She kissed the most perfect one, and it tasted as salty as she imagined the sea. Neither Emma nor Ada had seen the Pacific. It was thirty miles away, through untamed redwood forest.

“Will I be happy?” Emma asked.

She waited for Ada to say Of course. When the pause drew on too long, her hopes narrowed. A simple yes would do. Emma looked up at Ada from where she lay on the bed, so that Ada’s face took up the entire world.

Ada’s fingers trickled through Emma’s stubborn hair. When a few minutes had wafted past, Ada pressed a kiss to Emma’s lips, and with it, she sealed every one of Emma’s hopes. “I choose to believe you will,” she whispered. “Someday.”

The Grays: Now

It’s a good thing we came prepared,” June says, tugging her backpack straps. Her bag is deceptively large, fitting worlds of helpful items. She brought her athame, a tumbled piece of pinolith to keep her third eye open, black candle stubs to banish bad energy, a matchbook from the diner, one steel flask filled with water, another with gut-twisting cheap whiskey, and enough snacks to keep them going on a long, uncertain hike.

Lelia grabs Danny’s arm and takes stock of the situation. She knows this map, or at least other maps like it. It’s the shape of the Lost Coast. “Look,” she says. “The X is more than halfway to the water. That”— she runs a finger along a dark, craggy line —“is the Pacific coast. Between Tempest and the Pacific is one of the oldest and most important stands of coastal redwoods in the world. Only trees. No towns, no roads.”

“What does the X stand for?” Danny asks.

The Grays look at one another and take stock. They’re all pretty sure they’ve made an important connection, but they want to check with one another before they share it. It’s getting harder to give away pieces of Imogen. It feels like the pile is dwindling, and soon they might run out.

“Imogen drew a map like that once,” Lelia says. “It led the hermit to the tree where he . . .”

The words lived and died blossom in the air.

“I’d call it a coincidence, but witch logic says otherwise,” Lelia adds.

“Are we sure it’s Imogen who drew the map?” Danny asks. “I mean, she’s not the one I’m dowsing for.”

“You think Emma did this?” Hawthorn asks, pushing her doubts around her face, twisting her features.