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I cannot wrap my head around that amount of time. And speaking of time, if Memnon knows how many years he slept, then he knows the year it currently is.

What else must he know?

For the first time since he confronted me behind Lunar Observatory, I wonder about his life. How exactly did he get from South America to Northern California? Where did he get his clothes? From whom did he acquire information about the modern world? And where in the goddess’s name is he staying?

These questions fill me with a combination of dread and guilt. I don’t really want to know the answers to any of them, but I also feel like I released this man, then abandoned him to the world.

Not that I was in any place to help him. Not after how he treated me.

Speaking of how he treated me…

My thoughts turn to my latest dream. I want to wither away at the fact that I’ve now twice had sex dreams about motherfuckingMemnon. I mean, heiswickedly beautiful, so I guess my eyes have good taste, but comeon,mind, we do not spread our legs for evil dream men. Even ones who know their way around a pussy.

I draw in a ragged breath.

“Hey, you okay?” Sybil says next to me.

“What? Yeah, I’m good.” I rush the words out.

She stares at me for a second. “I’m sorry about the amulet,” she finally says.

She thinks my mood is about that mess of an amulet?

If only.

I wave her words away. “It’s fine. It really is. I’ll just try again.”

I can feel Sybil’s eyes on me a second longer, but given how uneven the ground is, she eventually has to look away.

We run for a little longer when the dirt path forks, one branch continuing onward and the other curving back the way we came.

“Unless you want to keep going,” Sybil says, “we’ll want to take this one back to the house.” She points to the branch that twists toward home.

“Don’t want to keep going,” I say. My energy is already starting to flag, and there are still miles between me and my bedroom.

We take the path that curves back the way we came, birdsong and dappled light following us through the Everwoods.

We’ve got to be less than a mile from campus when up ahead of us, the pathway is roped off by crime scene tape.

Sybil and I slow. There are people in Politia uniforms milling about, their magic filling the air. There’s something else lingering in the breeze, something grim and oily and malevolent. Beneath even that, I sense…

Death.

Ruthless, agonizing death. It’s just a momentary impression; then it’s gone.

“Selene…” Sybil says, a thread of fear in her voice.

Before I can respond, one of the uniformed officers notices us.

“Hey there!” the woman calls.

I think she’s going to send us on our way, but instead, she beckons us closer as she heads toward the crime scene tape. “Can I speak with you two for a moment?” she says.

Sybil and I glance at each other before I call out, “Yes. Of course.”

We walk over to the cordoned-off area. Every step closer has my gut churning and my intuition telling me to stay away. Something here isn’t right.

“You two locals?” the officer asks, pulling out a notepad and pen.