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"I made sure you were safe," he says.

"How?" I ask, confused. I didn’t see him when the fires started.

"If I hadn't found you, if we hadn't spoken in the forest, Sebastian would have come for you sooner. You would have sat nearer the courthouse, in one of the available seats. You would have been caught in the blast."

I sigh. This is all so confusing. So hard to understand. So hard to believe. All I have is my brother's word that his visions are true. Even if he is seeing them, even if he believes them, that doesn't make them real. Has Adam gone mad? Did dying destroy his mind?

"Why not stop the explosion?" I ask, my voice tired. "My friend was almost killed. Liam's been arrested. If you have this power, this gift, why not stop it from happening?"

Adam sighs and squeezes my hand. "I know this is hard for you to understand. And I'm so sorry about Lily and Liam. But things are proceeding as they should. As they must. I couldn't stop the explosion without risking too much."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I ask, angry. "Is this all part of your master plan? Did you cause the fire?" The possibility crashes into me like lightning and I feel sick to my stomach. I think of Moira and her grief at facing the truth of her brother. Her desperate need to exonerate him from whatever crimes she could, even knowing the other awful things he had done. We all wear rose-colored glasses when it comes to our loved ones. We all see what we want to be there, which makes it that much harder to see what actually is there.

Adam puts his arm around me, and I rest my head on his shoulder. "No, Evie. This I did not do." He kisses the top of my head. "But it had to happen. For the sake of the Otherworld. You will understand…in time."

I pull away, facing him, my heart torn in two. "How can I trust you?" I ask. "You murdered a woman and child and—"

"And I told you about it," he says, cutting me off. "I didn't have to show you the Memory Catcher. But I wanted you to know the truth. That's why you can trust me." His blue eyes carry so much grief, so much sadness. "I've never lied to you. And I never will. You can always trust me."

I look away, my emotions all over the place. But he's right, in a twisted way. He's never lied to me in the past. That was our sacred promise to each other. Never to lie. The promise we never broke. Ever. He didn't have to show me the memory, but he did.

So, if he's not lying…then this is all real…or he believes his own insanity. "Why are you here?" I ask. “Why now?”

"I needed to see you again. To talk to you. To be with you. I've missed you. You're my other half. We are never complete apart. You know this."

Tears leak out of my eyes and I nod. I do know this. We have always been a team.

"But there's more, isn't there?" I ask, sensing it in his voice.

He nods. "There's more. When you find the dragon egg, you'll receive an offer."

"What kind of offer?" I ask,

"To leave the Night Firm," he says. "For… another opportunity. It's important that you accept."

My stomach drops. "Why?"

"That's all I can tell you," he says.

I know from his tone I won't get any more information, so I don't try. I sit with him, safe in the circle of his arm, and I think of all the things we've missed about each other these past months.

"I killed Jerry," I say suddenly, confessing my darkest crime.

"I know," he says softly, tightening his hold on me.

"It's not an easy thing, taking a life."

"It had to be done."

And in a strange way I realize we are connected, even in this. Even in murder, in death, in ending a life.

I marvel at the macabre serendipity of it all. Growing up, Adam and I were always connected. We shared events in a very twin way. One summer, as children, we were placed in different foster homes. It was the first time we'd ever been apart and the longest three months of my life. It was agony. During that summer, my only consolation was music, and I became obsessed with a country song by Billie Ray Cyrus, “Achy Breaky Heart.” I listened to that song on repeat the entire summer. Adam and I weren't allowed to call or see each other, and when we finally got a new home together in the fall, we couldn't wait to update each other on our lives. When I told him about the song that got me through his absence, he grinned and showed me the cassette tape he'd been listening to. It was the same song.

This was only one example of so many times our twin powers—as we called them—connected us in shared experiences. When I broke my ankle while on a girl's only field trip, he broke his playing basketball after school with friends. At the same time. Our foster parents were not happy.

And now, we've shared in the act of taking a life. An act that has left a scar of darkness on both of us.

The exhaustion of the last few days settles on me, and I rest my head on my brother's shoulder, my eyelids too heavy to keep open. Adam notices, and guides me gently to my pillow, laying my head down and tucking me in, just like when we were kids. Moon hisses at him and readjusts his position to stay close to me.