a crossroads where old row houses and cottages the colors of Easter eggs were tangled with prehistoric yew trees. A tower with a clock face overlooked a pond blazing red in the twilight—the place resembled a resort town gone to seed. Jack and Leander exited the train and strode quickly to a purple Victorian, where a weathered sign above the door read ORSINI’S BOOKS.
Inside the shop, books had overrun the interior, tumbling from tables, towering in piles, stuffed in crates and on shelves crammed with unusual objects collected from the true world . . . an old typewriter, a stone Celtic cross, a stuffed owl. The wooden floor creaked beneath their boots as they searched. Leander murmured, “Jack, the chances of her being here . . .”
“When I want your opinion, I’ll be sure and ask for it.”
Leander halted and Jack followed his gaze to the back door, which was open and half off its hinges.
“Orsini.” Jack ran out the door.
In the courtyard, he fell to his knees beside a pile of black fur and earth . . . it was all that remained of his old friend. With one shaking hand, he tenderly touched a bear-shaped brooch in the fur. When he swallowed a howl of anguish, it was as if he’d inhaled a ball of thorns. “Tell me, Cyrus”—he didn’t look at Leander—“what terrible things have you done for the Wolf?”
Leander crouched beside Jack. The Celtic knot and wolf tattoo on the side of his neck was visible as his golden hair fell back. He said, carefully, “Not as many as you have, with Reiko.”
“I’m not the one who caused an innocent girl to be taken from her family.”
“Not yet.”
Jack thought of Finn out there, alone—or, worse, with Caliban—and wanted to rip someone apart.
Leander bowed his head. “I never should have spoken to Lily when I saw her. All of this . . . it’s my fault.”
Jack relented. “Reiko has had her claws in that family since Finn was a child. But you might have prevented her sister’s fate.”
Leander shouted, “I’ve tried everything to free Lily! I will do anything for her!”
“What do you mean, exactly?”
Leander’s expression was desolate. “I will die for her.” He hesitated. “Jack . . . Caliban and Lot are tracking you by your blood—because of what happened to you on Halloween. The elixir won’t work on you. You’ve been marked from the beginning.”
“Atheno betrayed us.”
“Well, he was a kelpie. Are you really surprised? You need to disguise your mortality if you’re going to move through the ’lands. You need to be what you once were.”
“And how do you propose I do that?”
“I know a witch.”
“Do you now?” Jack felt a glittering darkness stir within him.
“She can help you.”
“And what about Finn?”
“You’ll have to risk the witch scrying for her—and that might alert Lot’s spies. I’ve led them on for a bit . . .” Leander rose, digging into his blazer pocket. He took out an amulet and held it toward Jack. “Take it. You need this more than I do.”
Jack gazed at the amulet, a dragonfly made of brass and crimson glass. “Where did you get this?”
“I stole it from the Wolf. It’s something I was supposed to return to its owner, in exchange for information. But I’ve since learned what I need to.”
“Why is it shaped like a dragonfly?”
“Because the witch is called the Dragonfly. She lives near the Green Mill.”
Jack accepted the amulet and met Leander’s gaze. “You know where the Wolf’s house is, don’t you?”
Leander backed out the door. “Lily can’t be taken out of the Ghostlands, Jack. I’ll save her before the seven days are up. I’ll kill Lot.”
Then he was gone.
“Leander!” Jack felt the brass and glass dragonfly move in his hand. He unfolded his fingers and the amulet, now a mechanical insect, rose, twitching and clicking, from his palm to hover before him.
Jack said, hoarsely, “When I’m done burying my friend, take me to your witch.”
AFTERWARD, BEFORE HE LEFT, Jack took the phoenix pendant Finn had given him from around his neck and reluctantly slid it into a cup of tea, leaving only the leather thong exposed.
“Clever girl. If you find your way here . . .”
CHAPTER 11
And Christabel awoke and spied
The same who lay down by her side—
O rather say, the same whom she
Raised up beneath the old oak tree.
—THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER, SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE
Finn fled into the forest, away from the swarming lights. When she glanced back, she saw the branches twist