The dancers—something in their eyes. Something manic.

Something frightened.

“Yes,” said the young Hasid. “Yes, of course. He’s just—”

But the dark Hasid cut him off. “Then come!” he cried. “Join us!”

The young man found that he was breathing in the dark rhythm:

In-out, in-out.

Clap-clap, clap-clap.

And then, suddenly, as easily as falling asleep, his feet began to move:

Step-step, step-step.

And it all made terrible sense.

The dance was sweet; there was nothing as sweet as the dance. And he could not abide the fear of what would come to pass once it reached its end.

The whole world was the shuffling beat of palm upon bony palm.

“Come!” called the Dark One. “Take us to the holy Rebbe!”

—

“Lilith?” said Bluma.

The reply came back soft and clear, as if the pale lady were only inches from her ear.

“Hello,” said Lilith, and she beckoned from the far end of the alley. “Come.”

The way was long and narrow, its squared corners rounded in with snow, and it took Bluma far longer to traverse its length than she had expected.

“Bluma,” said Lilith. “What are you doing here?”

Bluma found herself shivering to hear her name spoken aloud, as if it were a piece of cold metal held against the back of her neck.

“You called my name,” she said. “And I came.”

At this, Lilith frowned. “I did not call your name.”

Bluma wanted to argue, wanted to yell that of course Lilith had called to her, but she stopped herself; if Lilith denied it again, Bluma would have to ask herself who—or what—else might have done the calling.

And that was a question she didn’t want to consider at all.

“You are troubled,” said Lilith. “What is the matter?”

This question seemed unutterably stupid, and Bluma brushed past Lilith as if she were nothing more than an annoyance.

“Bluma?”

Idly, Bluma cast her eyes around the empty plot of land on which they found themselves. High brick walls loomed in on all sides. Here and there, she could see stalks of uncut grass rising through the thick blanket of snow.

What was this place?

“Bluma,” said Lilith from behind her, and Bluma flinched. She had begun to hate that word, to hate the inescapable sound of it.

It was like a trap, and she wanted to be rid of it.

“What troubles you?”

Now Bluma felt a hot spike of anger surging up in her chest. “Where did you go?” she said. “You made me think that I was safe and then you just left.”

Now Lilith’s brows fell, and her jaw set hard. “What happened?”

She wanted to tell Lilith, wanted to say what had happened, but Bluma was afraid that speaking it would bring them back again, the sharp eyes and long fingers, touching her, grabbing her, holding her back, and…

Lilith’s eyes were cold and hard. “I understand.”