“The storm’s coming, Will. Whether you’re ready or not, it’s coming.”

“What if you’re wrong?” Will said. He sounded tense.

“Do you really think this was an isolated occurrence? You read the papers like I do. You’ve seen the signs.”

The conversation grew hushed and Evie edged closer to try to hear.

“I told you then that it would come to no good.”

“I tried, Margaret. You know that.”

They must have moved; the sound became muffled and Evie could make out only bits and pieces: “Safe haven.” “Diviners.” “Going to be needed.”

Evie leaned closer, straining to hear.

“What about your niece? You know what she is. You have to get her ready. Prepare her.”

Evie’s heartbeat quickened.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“You have to tell her, or I will.”

Unable to bear it, Evie burst into the room. “Tell me what?”

“Evie!” Will dropped his cigarettes. “This is a private conversation.”

“I heard you talking about me.” Evie turned to the tall, imposing woman standing at Will’s desk. It was the same woman who’d come calling nearly two weeks ago, the one who’d left her card. The one Will pretended not to know. “What isn’t he telling me?”

“Miss Walker was just leaving.” Will glanced in warning at the woman, who shook her head slowly—in resignation or disapproval, Evie couldn’t be sure.

“I expect I was.” The woman secured her hat. “I’ll see myself out, thank you. Storm’s coming, Will, whether you’re ready or not,” she said to him again and marched out of the library in her regal way.

Evie waited until she heard the quick snap of the woman’s heels on the marble tile outside, then she turned on Will. “Who is that woman?”

“None of your concern.”

Will lit one of his cigarettes and Evie snatched it from his fingers, furiously stubbing it out in an ashtray.

“But she was talking about me! I want to know why,” Evie demanded. “And you said you didn’t know her before!”

For a moment, Will hesitated at the desk, looking utterly lost. Then that scholarly cool washed over him and he was the unimpeachable Will Fitzgerald again. He pretended to adjust the objects on his desk into some phony semblance of order. “Evie, I’ve been thinking. It might be best if you were to go back to Ohio.”

Evie reeled as if she’d been punched. “What? But Unc, you promised me—”

“That you could stay for a while. Evie, I’m an old bachelor, set in my ways. I’m not equipped to look after a girl—”

“I’m seventeen!” she yelled.

“Still.”

“You couldn’t have solved this case without me.”

“I know that. And I’m trying to forgive myself for getting you involved.” Will sank into a chair. He wasn’t used to sitting still, and he seemed at a loss as to what to do with his hands, resting them at last on the arms of the chair as if he were Lincoln posing for the memorial.

“But… why?” Evie said. She stood pathetically before him like a schoolgirl begging the headmaster for another chance. She hated herself for it.

“Because…” Will began. “Because it isn’t safe here.”

Evie could feel that she was on the verge of angry tears. Her voice quavered. “Why won’t you tell me what’s happening?”

“You have to trust me on this, Evie: The less you know, the better. It’s for your own good.”

“I’m tired of everyone deciding what’s for my own good!”

“There are certain people in this world, Evie. You don’t know what they’re capable of.”

Tears beaded along Evie’s mascaraed lashes. “You promised I could stay.”

“And I honored that promise. The case is finished. It’s time to go home,” Will said as gently as he could.

She had helped solve the case. She’d braved the headaches and the bloody battle with John Hobbes and the ghostly congregation of Brethren in that filthy hole. She’d given up the one thing that mattered most to her—the half-dollar talisman and the chance to know what had happened to James—in order to see it through. And this was her reward? It wasn’t fair. Not by a long shot.

“I’ll hate you forever,” she whispered, losing the battle against the tears.

“I know,” Will said softly.