“She’s the one with the water magic.” Danny waits, clearly wanting someone else to lend their own belief to her theory. The Grays give her silence. “I mean . . . can you really not see this? Not even think it might be possible?”

The Grays would never think that. They would definitely never say it. Especially not Rush. Imogen killed Sebastian and Neil. Rush clenches, confused and angry. She can’t believe that Danny would kiss her, touch her, take things so beautifully far — and then follow it up with those accusations.

Danny takes a step forward, and Rush takes one back, a reflex as deep as breathing.

“Why are you trying so hard to find her if you think she’s a murderer?” Lelia asks, crossing her arms.

The Grays close ranks. June staggers over to Rush, who puts an arm around her waist. Lelia drapes one of her long skinny arms across Hawthorn’s shoulders. They don’t leave a space. Not for Danny. Not for Imogen. Not for anyone.

It keeps getting them hurt.

Danny finally slows down, stumbling toward an apology. “I wish there were another explanation. I thought you should know in case . . .”

Lelia and Hawthorn and June turn and walk away from Danny. They don’t even have to discuss it.

“Where are you going?” Danny asks, her voice groping after them.

They don’t turn back. They can’t go soft.

“We’re going to find Imogen ourselves,” Hawthorn says.

“How?” Danny asks. “That’s why you brought me here. That’s why you need me.”

“Maybe we only needed you to get this far,” June says, picking up a walking stick and stabbing it into the ground.

Rush runs after Hawthorn, Lelia, and June. “We can’t leave Danny in the woods alone.” That word, alone, tastes hard and sour, an apple that will never ripen.

“She’s a dowser,” Hawthorn says with certainty. “She’ll find a way out.”

Danny: Now

The trees close in quick, sew up the space where the Grays used to be, make themselves into one dark quilt.

I walk faster. The dowsing rod pulls me across the woods until I’m running, mindless and breathless to match. I don’t know how many miles I am from the sea, but it’s close enough that the air prickles with salt. Through the fog, I get a flash of what’s going to happen next.

I’ll find Imogen.

I’ll drag her back to Tempest with me.

I’ll show the Grays that I was right.

I’ve been running with my eyes closed, which I realize only when I trip. I have a red palm, a turned ankle. I get up, keep going. Pain distracts me and I lose my way. I focus on Rush, let the memories burn through my body, giving my magic something to run on.

I wonder how long it will last before it fades.

How long I’ll last.