The salt water of the tears that Haven didn’t want to cry ripped away from her eyes. It swirled and grew. The hermit backed up until he was standing in the nook of his tree, safe and dry, but Haven didn’t want that. The water rushed in after him, and Haven finally stopped laughing and crying as it covered his face, pushed its way into his mouth.

Imogen snapped out of her nowhere state for a single second. Neil, the boy she had convinced to stay in Tempest, was dying. She fought against her own magic.

She told the hermit she was sorry.

But if Imogen was really sorry, Haven thought, she wouldn’t do this. She would stop it somehow. This was her magic.

Besides, Haven was sorry, too.

But she couldn’t take it back.

The Grays: Now

The second after Imogen comes back, the Grays flock to her, crowd her on all sides. They fling their arms around her waist, hold her close as if they’re trying to absorb her.

“Hi, witches,” Imogen says, pulling Lelia into her side even though her elbows are too sharp, running one hand through June’s grown-out hair. “How long have I been gone?”

“Fifty-six days,” Hawthorn says.

“Forever,” June hurries out.

Imogen scowls, but both answers must be true, because the Grays can feel them at the same time.

“Where were you?” Rush asks, finally demanding the truth that she should have asked for a long time ago. She gives Imogen a hug but then flits over to Danny, quick and certain.

“I promise I’ll tell you, but only after I eat seventeen plates of pasta at the diner,” Imogen says. She starts across the grove, only making it as far as the dark lump of earth. Haven’s burial mound rises from the grove like a tumor.

Imogen kneels and touches the earth. It feels muted, silent. “I want to do a spell to bring Haven rest. When we’re away from the faerie ring, though.”

“Why?” Hawthorn asks, touching the frames of her glasses the way she does whenever she’s off balance. It brings her back to herself. She can learn how to understand this magic, even if it’s not part of what Ora taught her.

Maybe this is her rebellion.

“Magic brings the worlds closer for a second,” Imogen says, biting her lip.

Danny closes her eyes, lids crushed. “That’s why you came back when Haven . . . used you.”

“And when we cast the spell that broke your ward?” June asks.

Imogen nods. “I felt it. I knew Haven might come after you again, and there was nothing to keep you safe this time. And she was getting worse. I could think again, just for a little while. I didn’t know what would happen, but I had to leave Tempest. So she couldn’t use me against you.”