Holding Amy’s rock, Eunjoo nodded toward the doorway, said, “I told you he would come.”

Calliope turned, and there was Coyote, haunching on the wall surrounding Pueblo Bonito, dignified, waiting.

“You told me, chica.” She kissed the girl’s forehead. “Let’s hurry.”

Dr. Toya led the way as they rushed through the dark corridors, stumbling through doorways, deeper and deeper into the heart, toward Room 33. The skylight from the apex of the moon was now glowing otherworldly, illuminating all the passageways.

They were so close. On the other side of that light—was Phoenix. And the rest of her family. She could feel it. She could feel them.

That shock of light. Unbelievable light.

She grasped the rock baby.

Room 33.

The cicadas buzzing in her ears. A windstorm. Bisabuela’s voice.

The others in front of her, holding their grave goods.

Chance behind her.

She turned.

“Chance?” Her throat filled with cotton, tears prickled at her eyes.

There was no turquoise around his neck. No turquoise on his wrist. He held no stone.

He’d buried his precious ones at Old Lady Salt’s sacred lake.

He’d buried them, for her.

He was so close she could touch him. His hand on the small of her back.

He nodded toward the light. “Go ahead, mujer. There is home. There is your family.”

“Chance?” The tears were spilling down her face. “Where’s your rock?”

He reached for her, pulled her close to him.

She leaned into his body.

His rocks were dancing at the bottom of a lake. They were in the dancehall of the dead, waiting for him.

She’d known that all along, hadn’t she?

He kissed her forehead. “I’m right behind you, mujer. Tell Miwe e’le my story. Our story.” He held her tight, then let her go.

She nodded, stepped back, into the doorway of Room 33. Into the light.

Into Phoenix and her family and grasping her corn girl and her rock baby with all her strength, she closed her eyes.

A pulling in, taking back, reclaiming something stolen.

THIRTY-SEVEN

THIRTY-SEVEN

THE ANCIENT CHORUS

She opened her eyes.

The sky gray and overcast, she stood upon the packed-dirt earth, crumbled with sandstone pieces, in the ruins of Chaco Canyon, the walls mostly eaten by time and elements.

A drizzle of rain blanketed her hair and face like a rebozo.

In her arms, the corn girl, sucking her fist—and her rock baby, now a flesh-and-blood girl, identical to her sister, save a pudgy fist curled up to her chin instead of in her mouth. Calliope kissed both girls.

Mara was laughing. “Holy hell! What a ride! We made it through. We did it, honey. We did it!”

She was hugging Calliope.

Eunjoo too was laughing.

And Dr. Toya.

Calliope looked back to Eunjoo.

She was hugging a woman, her colorful sleeve tattoos and white tank top, army boots, and a black leather jacket tied around her waist.