She moved incautiously, and the towel touched an open cut. Kami let out a small sound.

“Sorry,” Jared said, fast. “Sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Jared looked at her, eyes shading to silver as he stared. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of disinfection,” Kami warned him. “Could you go lean against the dishwasher or something, you impossibly tall person,” she added.

Kami dabbed disinfectant on a cotton ball, and crossed the kitchen floor to stand beside him. Jared slouched down against the dishwasher.

It made her remember the hallway at the Water Rising, shaking in the dark and wanting so badly to be close.

But this was Jared, and that had been Ash.

“That looks nasty,” she said, wielding her cotton ball. She dabbed and he drew in a hissing breath. “Was Rusty wearing rings or something?”

“Yes, that’s Rusty,” said Jared. “Hands dripping with ornate gold rings. His new look, surprisingly pimping.”

“You’re so clever, mouthing off to a woman who has disinfectant and is ready to use it.” Kami dabbed at the gash again, feeling his breath go uneven against her cheek.

“Sorry,” she whispered, dismayed that she was hurting him that much.

“There must be some way to magically heal people,” Jared said, face turned away from her. “But I’d have to practice on people to find out, and I don’t like the thought of getting it wrong.”

“Lillian should know,” Kami suggested.

“Aunt Lillian is not terribly impressed with me right now.”

“That stunt you pulled at the Crying Pools,” Kami observed, “was not terribly impressive.”

Jared shrugged. “I thought it might work. And I didn’t much care if it didn’t.”

Kami didn’t know what to do about it, if he felt like that. She didn’t even know why he would.

“It was dumb,” Jared said at last, watching her back away. “I won’t do it again.”

“You’d better not,” Kami told him. “And speaking of dumb things. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the gallant rescue.”

Jared crossed his arms. “Do I get points taken off for bad technique?”

“Why were you even there?” Kami asked. “Were you following me home?”

“Are you asking me if I was stalking you?”

“Maybe,” said Kami. “Were you?”

“Yeah,” said Jared. “Little bit.”

Kami had to smile because he was so weird. She could hear her brothers watching television, the sound of her father playing music as he worked. It seemed as if everybody was safe for the moment, and she could just try to work this guy out. “Don’t do that.”

“I wasn’t following you home so I could break into your house and steal your underwear,” Jared pointed out. “There are sorcerers killing people in this town. I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Kami looked down at the first-aid kit. She didn’t think there was anything you could do for a split lip, though “don’t get punched in the mouth again” seemed like a good first step that Jared had obviously not considered. He kept welcoming pain, as if it was the only friend he wanted.

“Why not just walk home with me? As in, with me aware of the fact that you were there?”

Jared did look at her then. “But I thought . . . ,” he began.

Kami saw her mother at the gate, coming home before dark for once. Mum had stopped to stare at the disturbed earth. Kami saw the look on her face, guessed what she might be thinking: that this looked like a grave, looked like trouble and magic on their very doorstep.

“What did you think?” Kami asked Jared. She wanted him to say something, anything, to make her feel better.

He said nothing. He’d been able to say he hated her.

“Why this anxiety to keep me safe?” she demanded.

Jared’s lip curled. “You saved me. In the woods. Now we’re even.”

“I didn’t realize we were keeping score,” Kami said slowly. “I don’t want you to guard me. I’m nothing special. You said that. Didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Jared said. His voice was rougher than usual, and she wanted to hit him.

“I’m not your magic link anymore. I’m nothing to you anymore. So leave me alone.”

He looked at her, winter in his eyes. He hated her sometimes, he said: she was sure he hated her then.

“Whatever you want,” said Jared, and turned away. He paused at the kitchen door. “Thanks for the first aid,” he added. “You didn’t have to do that.”

It was a simple enough thing to say. It didn’t change anything. But it made her want to cry. She didn’t cry. She watched Jared pass her mother at their gate, and saw her mother turn pale in Jared’s shadow.

Kami put her hand in her pocket and drew out the two objects she had in there. She looked at them glitter in the November sunlight: Ruth Sherman’s lipstick and the button she had pulled off Sergeant Kenn’s uniform when she pushed him away. She didn’t need comfort, not from anyone. She had a way to fight.

PART IV

WINTER SONG

I have been torn

In two, and suffer for the rest of me.

—Edna St. Vincent Millay

Chapter Fourteen

Call upon My Soul Within the House

Several weeks of attempting to hunt sorcerers had passed when Kami woke and found that the world had turned white. It was as if someone had tipped a layer of powdered sugar over Sorry-in-the-Vale, turning the landscape into a vast wedding cake.

Kami stirred in a warm nest of blankets, blinking at the brilliant pallor of the world outside her window. Her lashes stuck to her cheeks, and her hand was pinned under Tomo’s head.

Mum and Dad had spent the night shouting at each other. Tomo and Ten had climbed into Kami’s bed and huddled there, all of them listening miserably together.

Kami pulled herself upright in bed. Tomo was sprawled over three-quarters of the mattress, and Ten was curled at the bottom of the bed like a cat. She’d seen other families fighting and breaking apart, but it had never seemed like something that could happen to hers.

There was a trail of footsteps in the snow: a dark line leading from their doorstep to Kami did not know where. Her mother was already gone.

The creak of the bedroom door made Kami startle. Her father looked in, and Kami saw the crease of worry between his brows ease when he saw them all there. Another thing that shocked Kami was seeing both her parents so scared.

“I’m calling this one a snow day,” Dad said. “Come on. Let’s all have porridge and honey and hot chocolate, and build snowmen. You in?”

Tomo woke up, flailing wildly like a small windmill that had found itself trapped in a bed. Ten was already uncurling, looking alert and happy.

“Thanks, Dad,” Kami said. “But though your offer is generous and chocolaty, I think I’m going to school. Lots of work to get done.”

You can’t find them, Lillian Lynburn had said. But she was wrong.

* * *

It seemed like everyone had had the same idea as Kami’s dad. There were a few kids standing in front of the school, but the school’s windows were dark, the doors barred. None of Kami’s friends were in sight except for Ash: Kami imagined Angela had taken one look at the snow and decided she was officially in hibernation.

But Amber Green was there, and Kami had stolen one of her pencils. Ash had said he could use Amber’s possession to make sure they could see Amber no matter what spells she cast to make herself invisible. Ash had also agreed to help Kami.

“I think your plan is insane,” said Ash.

Ash agreeing was really the important part.

“Trailing someone is a classic maneuver,” Kami told him. “My plan is elegant in its simplicity. Walk with me now.”

Kami gestured to Ash to follow her through the school gates. She walked with him down the path along the wall, ostensibly heading up toward Aurimere, then gestured to him to go down low.

Ash crouched in the icy grass and gave Kami another baffled and pleading look. Kami smiled at him encouragingly and moved back along the wall, keeping low, so nobody would see their heads over the wall as they returned to the school. Just before a curve in the wall, Kami stopped. She could see the gate from here, and see people trickling out.

Ash leaned toward her, his jean-clad knee pressing against hers. “What on earth are we doing?”

“Shhh,” Kami reproved him. “The first rule of stakeout is no talking on stakeout! And you’re already in trouble for not remembering the second rule of stakeout, which is bring me doughnuts.”

Ash subsided into a worried silence, which he preserved until they watched Amber Green and her boyfriend, Ross Phillips, take a left directly from the gate, instead of heading down to Sorry-in-the-Vale and their homes. Kami squeezed herself against the curve of the wall and prayed they would not see her, gesturing for Ash to do the same.

Once Amber and Ross had passed, Ash said, “What if they’re just going off to . . . uh, you know. Be alone together.” His already cold-flushed face turned even pinker. He was so handsome and so embarrassed it was impossible not to smile at him.

“Then we’ll go away very quickly,” Kami promised. “This is how it goes. Shadowing people is frequently the tawdry part of an investigation.”

“How many investigations have you actually conducted?” Ash asked doubtfully.

Kami chose not to dignify that with a response. She moved past Ash and followed Amber and Ross, whose path soon diverged away from the wall, the town, and Aurimere. Their course was clearly set west of the town, which was mostly overgrown fields. It was like a moor, crisscrossed with dirt lanes leading nowhere. One such lane led to Monkshood Abbey, the house where Rob’s parents had lived, and killed.

Amber and Ross were tiny dark figures in the lane, small shadowy shapes against a framework of pearl-glistening boughs, banks of snow-crowned undergrowth, and snow-lined stiles and gates. Carts or cars had obviously passed down the lane this morning: there were two dark furrows in the pale surface of the snow. Amber and Ross were each walking in one of the lines in the snow when they blurred, their dark shapes suddenly lost to Kami’s eyes as if they had been stirred into the landscape like sugar cubes in a glass of hot milk.

Ash cut himself off midswear with a guilty look at Kami, clutched at the pencil, and muttered some other words under his breath.

Amber’s form coalesced back into view, blurred at first, then clearer and clearer. Kami could see snowflakes settle, like shining pieces of lace, in the fox fire of her hair.

“Come on,” Kami said. “Shortcut.” She plunged into the undergrowth, brambles clawing at her jeans. She scrambled over a stile half concealed in the bush, grabbing at the snow-piled wood to boost herself over, and her white woolen gloves were instantly soaked.

The fields stretched wide and far, a pristine blanket of white fringed with the curling darkness of trees on its borders. The sky pressed down low against the earth, a dense layer of pale gray cloud that seemed like a dark, dim reflection of the snow. Cutting diagonally across these fields meant that they would get to a certain turn in the lane before the other two did. She faced an expanse of trackless snow, a perfectly blank page.

Kami began to run.

* * *

Monkshood Abbey was set at the top of a snowy slope, the dark crest on a white wave. The foot of the slope was ringed with fire.

Last time Kami had seen Monkshood, the house had been deserted and the moat had been empty. The only difference now was that the door was not barred, and they watched the beacon of Amber’s hair disappear through that door into the dark.

Monkshood seemed to lurk on top of the low hill. It was not built with the towers and wide-open windows of Aurimere. It had been built for the cadet branch of the family, Kami guessed sometime in the Victorian age: it was square and respectable, menacing as well as humble, like the cringing henchman you always knew was up to no good.