Lilith’s jaw twitched, once, twice. “There are deaths that occur in secret, Bluma,” she said, “and burials attended by one alone. Not every grave is marked.”

Slowly, languidly, like a wooden spoon in a pot of cold soup, the wind stirred the air within the four brick walls of the second cemetery of Zubinsk.

Bluma swallowed. “A secret cemetery,” she said.

“Forgotten,” said Lilith. And then, with more than a little bitterness: “Men have a way of forgetting.”

“You are clever too,” said Bluma, and Lilith began to smirk.

“Is that so?” she said.

“This cemetery is closer to the center of town,” said Bluma. “Nearer to the Rebbe.”

“Oh,” said Lilith with a wave of her hand. “I have no interest in the Rebbe.”

This was a surprise. “Really?” said Bluma. “All the others seem to want him.”

“I am not,” said Lilith, “like all the others.”

“What do you mean?”

Now Lilith’s eyes narrowed. “You saw them, Bluma—all grasping for advantage, desperate to be the richest, the strongest, the most powerful. They clamor for the Rebbe, but only because the others desire him. No, I have no time for such nonsense.”

“But you are here,” said Bluma. “In Zubinsk.”

Lilith nodded. “We are.”

“Why?”

“Because a great soul is about to perish,” said Lilith. “And we wish to save her.”

Bluma’s heart began to beat faster. Was Lilith speaking of her?

“Who?” said Bluma. “Who is she?”

And at just this moment, in the reflection of the spoon, Bluma saw the dark silhouette of a girl stumble into the thin frame of the alley’s entryway. Out of habit, she turned, looking over her shoulder to see the girl in the flesh.

But there was no one there.

“Carefully, now,” said Lilith. “Wait until you recognize yourself. Only then can you call out and catch your name in the basin of the spoon.”

Slowly, the silhouetted girl began to come nearer, closer and closer down the alleyway. Bluma was prepared, ready to speak her name as soon as she recognized the girl in the reflection.

The word was on the tip of her tongue.

And this is why it was such a shock to Bluma when she found, as the girl stumbled out of the shadowy alley, that she did not recognize herself at all.

“What is it?” said Lilith.

“Her face…,” said Bluma. “I don’t know her.”

“No,” said Lilith with a sigh. “No, of course not.”

Bluma dropped her arm. “Then what can I do?”

Lilith’s brows fell. “We must put your name into the spoon. Which I suppose means that we must find your name somewhere.”

“But where?” said Bluma.

“It is a difficult question. Perhaps, once we have whom we have come for, we should return to the Far Country and consult Lord Dantalion….”

“Who have you come for?” said Bluma, her hope rising.