She’d forgotten that small kindness, and others like it. Even in this house of ghosts, there was a little bit of light.

“The tea’s steeping.” Jamie came to stand beside her. “You okay?”

“I think so.”

“You know, when I first got to Nowhere House, I was fractured.” Firelight flickered in his eyes. “I flinched at the slightest noise. Refused to let anyone touch me. Locked myself in my room. Lillian gave me a home, but it was Ian, Ken, and Lucie who put me back together, piece by piece. It took me a long time to let them in. I was afraid, too; afraid of what it would do to me if I lost them. It’s a leap of faith to love people and let yourself be loved. It’s closing your eyes, stepping off a ledge into nothing, and trusting that you’ll fly rather than fall. I can’t step off the ledge for you, Mika. It’s something only you can do. And I know you will. It might not be right now, but I know you. Sooner or later, you’ll fly.”

Mika had no difficulty with the loving part. She loved him, loved all of them, with a ferocity that hurt. She had known that for some time.

But to allow herself to be loved? That was so much harder. That required bravery and trust and the vanquishing of the monsters that lived under the bed. Jamie had said, rightly, that he couldn’t step off the ledge for her. Only she could do that.

Could she? Could she go to the very edge of that ledge and, even knowing there was always a chance that she would fall, still jump?

“What if I can’t?” Mika asked out loud, her voice little more than a whisper.

“Then I’ll take anything you can give me,” Jamie replied. He took a step closer. “But just so you know, you can have all of me. If you want it.”

“I do want it. I want it more than anything.”

He smiled crookedly, but he didn’t touch her. Instead, they had their tea, and Mika showed him the potion still simmering in her cauldron and explained her hope that it would confuddle Edward into believing whatever lie they told him, and for a little while, they both let themselves hope that this would work, that after tomorrow they’d never again have to worry about a spiteful solicitor or a pile of bones hidden in the garden.

And for the first time in days, Mika laughed—really, properly laughed—when Jamie told her what the girls had said when they’d told them the truth about Lillian. “I think we expected them to be suitably solemn and respectful about it, but in hindsight, that was an absurd expectation.” He paused. “Altamira said we should have buried Lillian in the woods.”