Danny stands there, clearly waiting for one of the Grays to tell her that she’s ridiculous. Even if they’re witches — Emma Hart has been dead for almost a hundred years, and there’s no such thing as a dead girl drawing a map on your arm, leading you into the deep, deep woods.

June pulls out a granola bar and chases down a bite with whiskey. She definitely shouldn’t have skipped dinner. Her confidence is not holding up to the notion of chasing a spirit into the depths of the Lost Coast. “Why would she draw a map exactly like Imogen does?”

“Maybe Imogen taught her,” Rush says, trying to keep her words light. But it’s all weighing on her — the secrets, the kisses, the places where the two overlap.

“Let’s move,” Hawthorn says. “If we’re going to find anyone tonight, we have to get started.”

The Grays head away from Tempest, their sandals and sneakers and boots marking the earth in a way that will be instantly brushed over, forgotten. They take turns using their cell phones as flashlights until the batteries start to die. They decide, one by one, to save their last sliver of a charge, just in case they need the phones in an emergency. Not that there’s any service where they’re headed.

Danny leads them down a slope into a great valley, each step plunging them deeper into a place that shouldn’t exist in the modern world. This is one of the last places that people don’t trespass, don’t harm, don’t scratch with their steps and clutter with their lives.

If the Grays get lost here, they are well and truly lost.

They’ve been walking for over an hour when Danny stops.

“We’re looking for a special tree?” June asks, inspecting the tree trunks. Some are breathtakingly high, others are as wide as buildings. A few have bark that grows in straight strips, while the patterns on others twist in a tortured spin. Needles cluster high overhead, thickening into clouds. “They all look special to me.”

“I don’t think we’re even close yet,” Danny says, and the Grays’ frustration gathers around her. “It’s hard to be exact with an arm map.” She pulls out the dowsing rod and holds it out, straight and certain. The Grays can tell she’s been practicing without them — the way Danny carries the rod is starting to look natural, balanced.

But June thinks there might be something missing.