“You need to believe it’s for your own good,” her mother said.

“For my own good,” Holmes said. “For your own good, maybe, but not mine. Never mine. You’re a chemist; you’ll have this under control by tomorrow. If I’m going—”

“You’re going.”

“Then I’m going to find my uncle, because if I’m correct, he’s in extreme danger.”

Emma looked at me. “You’ll go with her,” she said with despairing eyes. It wasn’t a command so much as an entreaty. A peace offering to her daughter.

Everyone in this house seemed to exist in opposition to themselves, anger and love and loyalty and fear all layered over each other into an incomprehensible blur. I opened my mouth to tell her no, that my mother would kill me, that I wasn’t her daughter’s valet or bodyguard. That out of everyone I knew, Charlotte Holmes could take care of herself, and if she couldn’t, I was the last person she’d let help her.

Blindly, Holmes reached out to clasp my hand in hers.

“I will,” I heard myself say. “Of course I will.”

four

I DECIDED THAT I HAD PRETTY GOOD LEVERAGE TO USE TO strike a deal with my father. Because if I didn’t, my mother would hunt me down and kill me for running off to Europe without parental supervision.

“Leander left,” I told my father, shifting the phone into my other hand. “Holmes’s dad said he took off in the middle of the night. One of his contacts was getting antsy, I guess.”

As I spoke, I kept an eye on Holmes next to me in the backseat. She was wearing head-to-toe black: collared shirt, trim pants, a pair of black wingtip boots that I sort of wanted for myself. Between her knees, she balanced her small black suitcase with its giant silver clasps. Her straight hair was tucked behind her ears, and I watched her tapping furiously away at her phone, lips pursed. She looked dangerous, delicate. She looked like a whisper made real.

She looked like she had a new case to solve. I didn’t know how I felt about that.

The phone line crackled. “So you’re going to Berlin. To look for him.” There was a plea in my father’s voice. I couldn’t think of the last time that so many adults had asked me favors all in a row, like I was someone to be bargained with and not just ordered around. It had been, to put it mildly, a strange week.

A strange year.

“I’m going to Berlin,” I said, “because Emma Holmes has been poisoned by Lucien Moriarty. Apparently.”

Holmes lifted an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. On her phone, I watched a text pop up from Milo. I ran that number. Leander was calling you from a burner. It makes sense, you know. He was undercover.

Find out where it came from. Where was it bought, and by whom?

I was having to stretch my neck fairly far at this point. With an exasperated sigh, she put the phone between us so I could read.

You’re more interested in this than your parents’ situation? Poisoning? Honestly, why on earth have they told you about this and not me?

Because I’m the smart, well-adjusted child, she wrote back. Less likely to seek revenge.

Are you, now.

Tell me, have you already hauled Lucien out of Thailand and begun pulling out his teeth?

Not yet. For now, I’m assigning a security force to the Sussex house.

Yes, good, but within reason.

Naturally. You’re not upset about Mother, are you? Milo asked.

Holmes hesitated before typing a response. No. Of course not. The situation is under control.

“Apparently she’s been poisoned,” my father was saying. “Jesus, Jamie. Way to bury the lede. It’s not that I haven’t seen this sort of thing before with them—but listen, the Holmeses have always taken care of themselves. Still, while you’re out there, do you mind casting out some feelers for Leander? Milo surely knows something. His spies have spies. I’d do it myself, but I have no idea how to contact him directly.”

“Of course,” I said, and prepared to strike my deal. “I’ll do that if you agree to tell Mom why I won’t be in London for Christmas. And if you make sure she doesn’t come out here looking for me.”

He let out a long breath. “Is that what you’d like for your present? Me, roasting on a spit?”

“You could always fly to Germany and look for Leander yourself,” I told him, which was unfair, because I was sure that’s exactly what he wanted to do. My half brothers were both still tiny, though, and there was no way that my father would leave them over Christmas, not even to search for his missing best friend.

I heard my father snort. “You are a piece of work,” he said. “Yes, fine, I will tell your mother if you’ll follow up with Milo. I’m sure he can spare a few bodies to look for his uncle.”

I can tell you that Leander isn’t in the city, the text on Holmes’s screen read. At least not as himself.

He wouldn’t be, Holmes wrote back. I need whatever contacts you have in Kreuzberg and Friedrichshain. Isn’t there some mangy art school out there?

Hold on.

“I have no idea what you’re on about,” I hissed at her. “I thought we were going to Berlin. Where’s Kreuzberg?”

“In Berlin,” Holmes said, as though it were obvious.

“Jamie?” my father asked.

“Can you send along those emails? I’m sure they’ll be useful.”

He hesitated. “I’d rather not,” he said finally, “but if you need any particular information, I can pass it along.”