Taped to the corner was an ancient-looking key. I gently peeled back the tape and held it in my hand. Questions about Circe’s secrecy and where she was leading me took root in my mind. I allowed them to grow and branch off into a hundred new possibilities. This woman had to know something about me, but why not just tell me, since she seemed to like writing letters so much? There had to be a reason she couldn’t simply say what she meant, and curiosity bloomed anew as I thought about what that reason could be.

I closed the safe and rehung the picture, untangled the vines from around my leg, and righted the pot. I grabbed my bag from my room, stuffing the other letters inside, and added the new key to the ring with the two others Mrs. Redmond had given me. I barreled out of my room and crashed right into Mo. She stumbled back, stunned.

“Something chasing you?” she asked.

I readjusted my glasses. “No. I—I’m gonna look around outside.”

“Oh, okay,” Mo said. “This property’s big enough to get seriously lost, so don’t go too far. You got your phone? You wanna take Mom’s Taser?”

“Got my phone. And I don’t need the stun gun. I have mace though.”

“That’s my girl,” Mo said. She narrowed her eyes at me. “It’s a lot of open space, and you’ve never been in the sticks like this. We’re so far from town, from other people . . .” She trailed off.

I looked at the floor. Would she ask me to be extra careful? To make sure I didn’t do anything that might put us all in some kind of danger? She slipped her hand under my chin and leveled my eyes with hers. “Stretch. Be careful, but not too careful. This is the perfect place to let your guard down.”

It was permission I didn’t know I needed. I grabbed her and hugged her tight before slipping on my shoes and circling around the back of the house.

A wide plain of half-dead grass that looked like it hadn’t been cut in years sloped away from the house. I took out the map. A red line traced the path Circe wanted me to take, straight through the center of the rear yard. I took a few tentative steps into the knee-high grass. It bent toward me as I waded through, cutting a swath of vibrant green into the brown.

As I approached the tree line, a series of low aching groans cut through the air. The trees twisted back on themselves. They had noticed me.

Stretch.