“They are. But one of my patients was left behind. I don’t know how or why.” As the doctor spoke, she burnished the turquoise stone between her fingers. Calliope thought back to the day her family had disappeared—the day she’d disappeared. In the foyer of her house, Phoenix’s rock collection had been scattered. She’d stuck a piece of his turquoise into a duffel bag, but on the journey, she’d lost it. “I need to make sure he’s safe, bring him back …” Calliope raised her eyebrows, unable to hide her skepticism. Dr. Toya would risk leaving her people, getting stuck between worlds, or on the other side, for a patient? It hardly seemed worth the risk. Dr. Toya must’ve read the cynicism on their faces because she added, “My sister’s son is schizophrenic. He needs me.” The way she inflected needs, the way she rubbed the turquoise around her neck, Calliope felt the familiar tug. Did Phoenix still need her? He’d gone six months without his mama. She’d gone on, six months, without him. She couldn’t waste another minute.

“Do you know how to get through?” Calliope asked. “Have you checked the sun dagger?”

Dr. Toya nodded, motioned for them to follow her as she stood and walked toward the northwest face of the mesa. At the edge, three slabs of slanted rocks. The sun was not yet overhead.

“I’ve been up here three days,” Dr. Toya said, “watching the dagger move across the sun spirals. Today, at noon, it should cut through both the larger spiral and the smaller snake, which means equinox. The middle of time.”

They should have been early. They should have had several more days. Time was stringier here. They had come just in time.

Dr. Toya nodded down toward Pueblo Bonito. In the center of the flat roofs, a hole, a skylight. It would be blindingly dark in those unventilated rooms. No windows, no lights. But in that center, there would be a pinhole cascading light, especially at noon when the sun would glare down from its highest point in the sky. Calliope knew without being told—Room 33.