Zora looked chastened. “Sorry,” she said again.

“And you’re wrong, anyway. Dorothy went through the anil without a time machine, and she survived.”

“True. But she was holding the container of exotic matter,” Zora said thoughtfully. “And her hair turned white. All of us got white streaks in our hair after we fell through the anil without a vessel.” Absently, she fingered the white braid beneath her ear. “But your hair isn’t white.”

Ash lifted his eyebrows. “It’s not?”

“Nope, dirt blond, as usual.”

“Hey,” said Ash, but he couldn’t even muster up false indignation and the word fell flat. He ran a hand back through his hair.

“Okay, say you did travel back in time. Somehow. How did you end up in the exact time that Dorothy and Roman went back to?”

Ash, frustrated, said, “I don’t know.”

“We’re missing something,” Zora murmured. “I suppose it’s possible that Roman and Dorothy left behind a sort of . . . trail.”

Ash raised his eyebrows, and Zora, groaning, elaborated. “Okay, think of it like a boat cutting through the water, leaving a wake behind in the waves, right? It’s possible that you were dragged along in their wake and that’s how you ended up in the same time that they did.” Her eyes traveled from his hair to a spot on his abdomen, just below his ribs. She frowned at his bandage. “And, maybe . . .”

Ash lifted a hand, suddenly, stopping her. He’d just caught a scent in the air—engine grease and smoke—and the skin on the back of his neck pricked. He turned, but the morning was sunless and blurred at the edges, and he couldn’t see where fog became clouds and water became sky. The world seemed still.

“We shouldn’t be talking about this out here,” he said, feeling suddenly exposed. He took a step toward Dante’s. And then . . .

There. A creak of wood. A soft footfall. Ash reached for the gun he’d tucked into his waistband. Zora’s eyes were suddenly alert.

“Who’s there?” Ash called, struggling to breathe against the tightness in his chest. He closed his fingers around the gun’s hilt but didn’t pull it out. Unnerved, he searched through the soupy, gray light, looking for movement, listening for breathing.

Silence.

Zora nodded at something in the water out past the docks. “What’s that?”

Ash followed her gaze and saw a pinprick of light glimmering through the distant trees. He could hear a motor, low and rumbling, churning up black water in its wake. A moment later, a motorboat separated from the shadows and fog.

Ash caught Zora’s eye as the boat drew up alongside the dock and pulled to a stop. Something was wrong.

He took a step closer to the edge of the dock, pulling out his gun—

A hand shot out of the fog, and then Ash’s arm was being wrenched behind his back, the gun slipping from his fingers.

“Easy now,” said a cool voice. The hand was small, but strong, and Ash’s first thought was that Dorothy had betrayed him, that she was going to kill him now, prememory be damned.