I don’t know how to tell him that I couldn’t retrace my steps even if I wanted to. They, along with every pertinent detail of my life, are gone. To make matters worse, the only person I remotely trust other than Ivan is the man who was supposed to kill me for it all. And right now Luka and I both need their help.

But Ivan isn’t done.

“The fact that you contacted me is proof you prepared for this possibility. As you yourself said, the sole thing you left yourself was a link to me. And, as it turns out, I do indeed have something for you.”

My gaze snaps to him. “What is it?”

Ivan gets up. “We have been here too long.” He looks at Claudia. “Are you satisfied?”

Claudia gives a curt nod that is mirrored by her brother. But she looks disconcerted by this last statement of Ivan’s.

“Come, Audra. You will stay at my house tonight.”

“The friend I mentioned,” I say abruptly, “is waiting near the café.”

Ivan shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but your friend cannot come with us.”

Ivan’s quick refusal shifts me into panic.

If Luka is lying, I need to be able to control what he thinks he knows.

But if there’s any truth to Luka’s story, I won’t leave him to the hunters as payment for saving my life. I may not know who I was, but I know at least that much about who I am.

“I need him,” I say. “He remembers things I don’t.”

“Not possible,” Ivan says, moving toward the door.

“Then the underground will have to get their hope somewhere else.”

Ivan slowly turns.

“Do you really know whom you can trust?” he says. “I wonder: How did he find you, anyway, the so-called Watcher you escaped?” I understand instantly what he’s insinuating.

“I wonder the same myself,” I say, looking at each of them in turn.

It’s weird having a Mexican standoff in the middle of Croatia.

“There is an old saying among the Utod,” Ivan says, at last. “ ‘Better to die blindly than having seen too much.’ But I say: Better to live. If you have any question in your mind at all, then you must leave your friend behind. Particularly if you care for him.”

“He’s not a threat,” I say, and pray that I’m not lying.

16

Booths line the street advertising boat tours and deep-sea fishing trips. The beach beyond is filled with pedestrians eating gelato, couples walking with strollers, kids running ahead of their parents.

I’ve just reached the main thoroughfare when Luka falls into step beside me.

“So what now?” he says.

Along the horizon, the Adriatic Sea is a sapphire beneath the setting sun, far too beautiful and serene to exist in the same dimension as my fractured existence.