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WILLOW SCRAMBLED TO her feet. Cole leaned against the far wall of what appeared to be an empty cavern, watching her with amusement.

His hair was wet, suggesting he’d finished his shower, and he’d changed into jeans and a white linen shirt that fell open at the neck, revealing tanned skin and a hint of collarbone. He was more handsome than Willow had given him credit for. It was annoying.

She pressed her lips into a line and commanded her thumping heart to slow down. “Why are you here? And how did you get here in the first place?” She scanned the room. “Is there another entrance? Or are you just one with the mud , wherever that mud may be?”

“Yep, that’s me. One with the mud.” Cole pushed off from the wall and gestured at Willow’s jeans. “You’re a bit muddy yourself, princess. Should I see if I can find a fainting sofa for you to collapse on?”

“Ha ha,” Willow said, brushing the dirt from her knees. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I have no intention of collapsing.”

When she straightened up, the cavern air prickled against Willow’s skin, and to her horror, she swayed. The walls seemed to breathe, and beneath her feet, the earthen floor shifted. Before she knew it, she’d flung out her arms for balance.

“Hey. You’re okay,” Cole said, stepping forward and taking her by the elbow. His touch steadied her. She jerked away.

“Yeah, I am,” Willow said. “No thanks to you.”

The earth trembled again, and Willow found herself suddenly, ridiculously weepy. It had been a long, strange day, and it only continued to grow longer and stranger. She turned away from Cole and angrily swiped her hand beneath her eyes.

“Ah, shit,” Cole said softly.

“Don’t,” Willow snapped. Don’t feel sorry for me. Don’t you dare.

He gave a funny little tilt of his head. “I’m just giving you a hard time. Forgive me.”

“You startled me, that’s all,” she muttered. “Don’t you know it’s impolite to just... pop out on someone unannounced?”

“I do,” Cole said seriously.

“Well, then maybe an apology is in order,” she said haughtily.

“Absolutely.”

Willow waited.

Cole waited with her. After several beats, he rolled his hand in a “go on” motion. “Please, don’t let me stop you.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a twist, to be sure, a princess humbling herself before a peasant—”

“I never said you were a peasant!”

“But everyone loves a good role reversal.” He made a thoughtful expression. “Well, I do, at any rate.”

“Whoa. Hold on. You’re not expecting me to apologize to you ?” She laughed once, incredulous.

Cole looked puzzled. “I thought we covered this. After all, it was you who pointed out the impropriety of popping out on someone unannounced.”

“ Thank you. Yes.”

“And yet you think I should be the one extending an apology.”

“I do! Yes!”

Cole chuckled. “Okay, princess. Whatever you say, princess.”

“Stop calling me that.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Your interpretation of what’s going on here is quite creative, I’ll give you that.”

“Cole? I’m tired. Clearly, I don’t share your interpretation of whatever you seem to think is my interpretation of...” Her head spun, and she no longer remembered where that sentence was going. “Whatever it is you want to say? Just say it.”

He nodded. “Right. Good plan.” He raised his eyebrows. “Willow?”

“Yes?”

“It was you who popped out on me .”

Willow opened her mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. Heat rose to her cheeks. “Well, Cole , you’re the one who did a slow clap, and guess what? That is even ruder.”

“Is it? I must have missed that lesson at finishing school.” He slapped his forehead. “Oh, wait. I didn’t go to finishing school, so I missed all those important lessons.”

Willow bowed her head, hugging her arms to her chest. Her tears were back. Tears of exhaustion, obviously, but...

Oh, God. Now her chin was trembling. God dam mit.

Cole exhaled, a slow sigh that broadcast the shift in his energy. “Hey. Willow. It’s okay.”

She refused to look at him. She swallowed and said plaintively, “Where are we? Is this... the crack between the worlds or whatever?”

“Sadly, no.” He strode to the door and rapped on it. “Brooxie? Ruby? We’re done here, I think.”

As Willow drew closer, she noticed a thin seam of light beneath the slab of stone.

She hadn’t noticed it when she’d been with the sisters because this side of the root cellar had been cast in shadow.

Now the light bled stronger. With a soft click and a sound like shifting gravel, the stone slab eased back—not opening on a hinge, but pulling into itself.

A pocket door made of granite and impossibility.

The sisters stood waiting on the other side. Ruby’s brows were knit tight, but Brooxie’s eyes sparked when she saw Willow. She gave a small, satisfied nod.

Willow blinked against the light as she stepped back into the root cellar, the damp air curling around her ankles.

“So... was it all just a trick?” she asked, hollow-voiced.

“No,” Brooxie said quickly. “Oh, hon, no. It wasn’t a trick.”

Ruby’s posture softened. “You did well,” she conceded. “Better than I expected.” She smiled at Willow, and Willow could feel that they were no longer adversaries. They were... something else.

Cole cleared his throat. “When’s the last time you slept? Or ate? Or had a glass of water?”

The question hit her like a punch to the ribs. Water. Yes. She wanted a glass of water more than anything in the world. More than anything in this world anyway.

Willow nodded.

“Okay,” Cole said. “Upstairs, then.”

He took one of Willow’s elbows. Brooxie took the other. “Let’s get you fed and watered,” she said gently. “We’ll save the rest for the morning.”

They had to take the staircase in single file. Willow noticed that someone had stashed a child’s rocking horse in the crook of the stairs, half-buried in an old quilt. A long-dead wasp lay belly-up in the seat. Dust lined its glassy wings.

In the kitchen, the sisters moved like a practiced pair.

Brooxie opened the icebox. Ruby set out four mismatched bowls and began ladling soup from a dented enamel pot.

It smelled of sweet corn and ham hock, savory and rich.

Cole led Willow into the main room and pulled out a chair for her at the long table. She sank into it gratefully.

Cole handed her a glass of water with a wedge of lemon floating in it like a tiny moon. She took it with both hands and drank the whole thing in six greedy gulps.

“I’ll get you more,” Cole said, whisking away her glass.

Ruby set down a napkin made of real cloth and folded with care.

“Thank you,” Willow said.

Soup came next. Brooxie dropped in a biscuit the size of her palm and pushed the bowl toward Willow. Willow lifted the spoon, blew on the soup, and took a tentative bite.

Warmth hit her tongue and spread through her. Salt and fat and something sweet, maybe squash. She took another spoonful, greedier now. Starving. As she ate, she thought of the door retracting into stone, of the way the air had changed, like breath held just beneath the world’s skin.

She pushed that away for now, letting the easy chatter between Cole and the sisters wash over her. Willow’s bowl was scraped clean when she finally found the energy to join the conversation. Her cheeks were flushed, her muscles warm, and her thoughts just clear enough to stir curiosity again.

“How did you all meet?” she asked.

Ruby’s spoon paused midair.

Cole’s smile turned faint. “You’re not one for easing into things, are you?”

“I’d say she’s not one for avoiding them,” Brooxie said, setting down her butter knife. “We met the usual way. Usual for Lost Souls anyway. Tragedy. Suspicion. A touch of fate.”

Willow raised an eyebrow.

“He was only four,” Brooxie said.

“Cole?”

She shook her head. “Small for his age. Liked sugar cubes in his tea. One front tooth had come all the way in, and the other was catching up fast.”

“Oh,” Willow said. She looked from one face to the next. “You’re talking about Cole’s brother.”

“Micah,” Ruby said softly.

“He wasn’t the first—or the last,” Brooxie said.

“It doesn’t happen often,” Ruby added. “But it shouldn’t happen at all.”

Willow clutched her cloth napkin. She wanted to know more, but she didn’t want to overstep.

“The parents— my parents—look the other way,” Cole said angrily.

“From their children going missing?” Willow said. “No. No parents would look away from that.”

“They have other mouths to feed,” Brooxie said.

“And wealth, an awful lot of it, to buy food and clothes and shoes with.” Ruby exhaled. “Wealth they didn’t have before. Wealth that came from nowhere—”

“Like stardust from the sky,” Cole said darkly. “And could disappear again just as fast,” Ruby finished.

Willow wanted to say something that mattered. But what? She could point out the obvious: that their world was built on cruelty and corruption. That she planned on escaping it for that very reason. But would that ease Cole’s pain, or Ruby’s or Brooxie’s?

Cole’s jaw worked as he struggled to control his emotions. “Everyone’s too scared to go poking around for the truth, so we’re doing it ourselves. Me, Ruby, Brooxie. A few others.”

“What do you think is happening?” Willow asked.

“We don’t know,” Brooxie said. “Whatever it is, it’s been happening a long time. And it’s dark. It’s been covered over in honey and Scripture and wishful thinking, but we think—”

Ruby put her hand on top of her sister’s, giving her a meaningful look.

“We don’t know what to think,” Ruby finished. “But that’s what brought Cole to us.”

“Yep,” Cole said tersely. “I brought my grief. Ruby brought questions. Brooxie brought sight.”

“Hon, you know I’m not Sighted,” Brooxie murmured. “Not in the way you mean.”

“You see more than most,” Cole pointed out.

Brooxie gave a funny shrug that said, That may be, but where has it gotten us?

Willow studied the three of them. The way their pieces fit together. She wasn’t part of it, but they wanted her to be. She could feel it.