“But that doesn’t matter. Not if we can’t get you back.”

The seaweed head turns to Timony.

Maybe there’s someone who can get down there for us, he says. Mice, or birds, or something.

“This isn’t a campfire story,” the doonie replies. “There are no magical beasts to ask.” He turns to look at Honey. “Unless Mistress Honey knows of some?”

I know enough not to hunt the little cousins, she replies, but I’ve made no friends among them.

“But we know someone,” I say to Geordie.

I’m thinking of that time after my accident, when I was still in the rehab. The crow girls left me two locks of their dark hair that turned into crow feathers when they laid them on my bed.

If you ever think we can help, they told me, hold these in your hand and call our names.

I still have those feathers. Or at least I had them back at the Professor’s house in Lower Crowsea. In Newford. They’re in my room, in the drawer of my night table.

They might as well be on the other side of the moon.

Except . . .

Once upon a time . . .

I turn my attention to Honey and Timony.

“Can either of you get back to Newford?” I ask. “You know, do your walking between the worlds thing and just step over there?”

“You want one of us to take you back?” Timony asks.

I shake my head. That wouldn’t work. I’d be the Broken Girl then and sure to screw something up. And I refuse to go if Geordie’s still here.

I look at him again. The seaweed that’s holding all the bits and pieces of him together is starting to dry out. Whenever he moves little pieces flutter to the ground. There’s already a pool of dried-out debris lying around him.

“I need one of you to go back and get something for me,” I say, turning back to the others. “Two crow feathers in the drawer of my night table. Can you do that?”

I’ve never been there before, Honey says.

“Neither have I,” Timony tells me. “But I can take the knowledge from your mind, if you’ll let me.”

“Go for it.”

He puts a hand on me again, just the palm lying against my brow. I feel the tingle again, but it’s different this time. Softer. Like anticipation.

“Picture it,” he says.

I do.

And then he’s gone.

I blink. I know I’ve seen a lot of magical comings and goings in my time, but it still surprises me every time.

I start to say something reassuring to Geordie, but before I can even open my mouth, Timony is back. Lizzie and I both jump. I don’t know that Geordie can in his seaweed body and who can tell what he’s feeling? Honey just regards the doonie with a considering eye.