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And then, without warning, the chaos stops as abruptly as it started, and I fall to my knees, my hands covering my face. All is quiet … and then I hear it, the gentle roar of the ocean breathing water back and forth against the shore. The low rocking of a strong heartbeat.

We are not alone.

Each breathing wave brings the smell of ice and a cold breeze that chills my skin and lifts the ends of my hair. Something very powerful is inches away from my face, and I am instantly trembling.

I inhale sharply and the air is frigid inside my mouth and throat and lungs. I feel immersed in Arctic water, goose bumps rising on my arms. My eyes flutter and finally open.

The room is gray but I can see Bailey and the others passed out across the pillows. I turn slowly, following the source of pale light emanating from the corner. A glowing apparition with millions of tiny white flecks is crystallizing into the shape of a man with blond hair and two braids in his beard. He is dressed in silver and white armor with gauntlets and weapons. A knight from ancient times. He has one blue eye and one brown eye, and they watch me with unabashed interest.

I am shivering so hard that my body is jerking.
This can’t be real! Something in Norah’s drink did this! No way this is real!

I’m staring impolitely because, hey, I’m scared to death. As I open my mouth to speak, his eyes widen in shock.

“Can you see me?” he asks astonished. An icy vapor shoots from his lips, and I realize he is the epicenter of my coldness. I nod hesitantly, and my answer lights up his already glowing features. He seems euphorically happy, his face bright and smiling like an electric lawn Santa.

“Who are you?” I breathe out. He starts to answer but a loud bang upstairs shakes the walls, and he stops. His attention shifts to the stairwell, and irritation narrows his eyes. Happiness gone.

The second heartbeat springs alive in my chest, and the man’s eyes snap to mine in recognition. Two words cut through my thoughts.
He knows!

I hold my breath hoping he’ll say something. I can tell he wants to stay and talk but he reluctantly steps back, his image separating into tiny ice chips before bursting into nothingness. I flinch, and he is gone. The room is black and the chill is sucked from the air and peeled from my skin like he is taking it with him.

Bailey and the others start whimpering and groaning in the dark. Footsteps and a beam of light bounce down the stairs. The light turns the corner and hits me full in the face. I squint and raise a hand against it.

“What on earth is going on here?” Michael demands.

Beside him, Milvi gasps. “Holy moley!”

The beam of light dances sporadically, taking inventory of the room. It’s in shambles. A silk pillow has been torn open and white feathers float down like drunk lightning bugs with their chutes open. Gracie and Norah are sprawled across the rug, their red turbans uncoiled like bleeding laundry. Gracie is passed out, her silk harem shoes pointing straight up like the dead. Abigail pushes to her hands and knees, her purple
kimono butt sticking out like a bruised hippo. She is plucking feathers from her hair and using curse words not yet invented. Bailey is sitting with her back against the wall, wide-eyed and staring at me.

It’s like a sauna in here since the man left, and a wave of nausea rocks my stomach. I reach out for Michael. “You won’t believe what just—”

“Sophia!” He cuts me off in that commanding voice that I know all too well. He orders everyone to get up, to leave at once. Michael is furious, like he caught us defacing public property—which I can’t blame him for, considering the mess. I try to explain again but he barks, “Not now!” and I clamp my mouth shut.

Slowly and supporting each other, we wobble to our feet. I’m fighting back the dizziness that is pushing my vomit button. Bailey is sporting more than a few wild feathers but also an uncharacteristic look of shame. Something is up with her, but I feel too overwhelmed to ask. I just want to get out of the stifling room before I spew.

Michael carries Gracie up the stairs, out the door, and sets her down on the library steps. A light tapping on the cheek wakes her. He instructs Norah and Abigail to see Gracie home, which they do without question. They seem anesthetized by what happened, or maybe just too embarrassed to argue. Bailey is disoriented and meandering sideways down the street so Milvi leads her toward the B and B.

I sit on the steps and hang my head between my knees, feeling a little better with fresh air in my lungs. Michael is pacing and waiting, finally allowing me to explain. I talk at my shoes and say, “Michael, what are
you
doing here?”

“We’ll get to that later, now please tell me what you were doing in there.”

I suck in more air. “You won’t believe it. There was this guy—wait, first I felt this strange ripping inside me and I thought, I mean, I
knew
I had to defend everybody against these weird shadow thingies that weren’t really there. And then this guy appears outta nowhere, and then he disappears just like that.” I try to snap, try to snap, try to snap my fingers but they are rubbery and won’t work so I drop my hand.

“What were you trying to do?” Michael demands again. It doesn’t go unnoticed that he ignored my amazing statement. I compose myself, tenderly lifting my head so as not to slosh the contents. I’m surprisingly coherent, considering all I’ve been through.

I don’t want to explain about Steve and the curse so I say, “That’s not important. Did you hear me say there was a man in there who—”

“Sophia!” Michael yells, and my spine stiffens. I hadn’t noticed that he is genuinely concerned. No, it’s more than that. Michael is scared.

I go to him on shaky legs. “What is it?”

Michael’s face melts with regret for his temper, and he squeezes my hands. “I’m
sorry, Sophia, it’s just that … I was worried and you
did
promise not to do anything foolish again.” He waits for me to deny that I’ve been foolish but I can’t. “Please just tell me, exactly, what you guys were trying to do.”

“Just messing around, really. It was stupid. They were trying to hypnotize me and …” I shrug and laugh it off.

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, basically. But it was bizarre. I’ve never been hypnotized before and I think I fell into a trance or something ’cause I didn’t feel like me. I mean, it
was
me, but a different me. Just like—”
Just like the night I tried to kill Steve
. I close my eyes and shake my head until the intruding memory falls off. “And then … the wind was blowing
inside
the room. Freezing wind, like, your-tongue-sticking-to-the-north-pole kind of freezing. And then I think the candles went out and—”

“Did you have a Ouija board?”

“What? No. They were just trying to hypnotize me.”

Michael squints like he doesn’t quite believe me and then says to go on.

“Well, then I opened my eyes and I saw this guy. He was all white and silver and armed to the teeth, like a knight or something. He was really cold and sorta floating in the corner. And then he looked at me and I think he asked ‘Can you see me?’ Anyway, I said, ‘Uh, yeah,’ or something. And then he started to glow brighter like a—”

Michael pulls away and groans, running a hand through his hair. He obviously doesn’t like what he is hearing. He moves to the sidewalk and starts pacing. I trip over hedges trying to catch up with him.

“What is it, Michael? I’m a freak, right? You think I’m a freak.”

“No, of course not.”

“I know it sounds weird. I was in a trance, though, right?” Even I’m not sure I believe this. What I saw was real. I know it. But I need some kind of reassurance. For some reason, I think Michael can provide it.

He is working on an answer, or maybe he has a question like,
Have you eaten any funky ’shrooms lately?
He looks pained, so I take his hand.

“What is it, Michael? You know, don’t you?”

Michael is struggling like he has ADD and can’t sustain a single line of thought. “Sophia, you were … you guys tried to … somebody called for …” He rubs the back of his neck, contemplating, and then stops abruptly, his anguished expression dropping like a stone. His eyes wash in and out of color, and my second heartbeat—constant and reassuring—flares like a geyser. Something is happening inside Michael, and I instinctively tighten my grip on his arm.

“Michael? What is it?”

His eyes are crystallizing into prisms, and he is sliding into a trance right in front of me.
Just like before
. I beg to know what’s happening but he doesn’t seem to hear me.

Milvi appears out of nowhere, startling me. She grabs my hands, trying to pry them from Michael’s arm.

“Let go, Sophia!” she spits out angrily. “You have to let go!” Her eyes are churning like Michael’s, and I gasp in shock and stumble back.

“I have to go,” Michael says, and then nods to Milvi. They turn and run away, leaving me shell-shocked and alone.

For the briefest moment, I am immobile, and then my adrenaline hits and I race after them. I round the corner and reach for Michael’s T-shirt just as two blue lights flash against my eyes.

Chapter 31

Down the Spiritual Rabbit Hole

My hand is full of Michael’s white T-shirt, and I shut my eyes against a brilliant burst of light. I have the sensation of being pulled forward, my body lifted and stretched and levitated. Ribbons of water brush over me like I am being dragged through the ocean. Ripples and waves swirl around but I am speeding through unaffected. I can’t understand what’s happening or why I’m not wet.

My left arm is forced against my side but I push it through the current, a swimmer’s stroke to grab more of Michael’s shirt. I latch on and push my face up to meet the enormous pressure flattening my hair. I crack open my eyes, expecting water to seep in but there is nothing: no water, no air, no Michael. Just a tunnel of pale blue light with millions of tiny white lights whizzing by at warp speed.

I hear a strange humming noise, wind through wings, and then Michael’s shirt rips around my hands and I panic, clenching tighter. I don’t want to let go but I am jerked backward as the material tears, one arm dangling free. The action rotates me sideways and then over again until I’m face up. The shirt gives way, and I’m separated from Michael. Fear rises in me and I scream but no sound comes out. I feel the pressure decrease as the streaking lights slow and fade and I am weightless, drifting and passing through seconds ticking on a clock. I float like an astronaut, my hair drifting up and around me. There is no breath in me, no heartbeat, not even Michael’s. I rotate, turning facedown, and see dark colors—the ground—rushing up beneath me. I scream again, and this time I hear it, strangled and terrified. With arms stretched out before me, I fall to the ground and roll up like a rug, slamming to a stop against a log.

I inhale a bunch of dirt and immediately cough it up. My hair is a wild mess and body parts wail in protest: banged knees, bruised hips, scratched elbows. I hear a voice, familiar and angry.

“We sensed the call and I tried to— She grabbed Michael’s shirt! She wouldn’t let go!”

Struggling to my knees, I flip hair from my eyes and look up at Milvi, Uriel, and Michael’s father. Two things I notice simultaneously: One, I am in the woods; and two, no one is happy that I am in the woods.

I gingerly climb to my feet and catch up with my breath. “Holy crap, what the heck was that?” I half-laugh, half-cough while brushing my hands together. I am having the most bizarre night of my life and can’t even begin to wrap my mind around that one.

Questions are multiplying like rabbits:
How did I get here? Where am I? Where is Michael?

Before I can voice any of them, Milvi snaps at me. “You shouldn’t have done that!”

I’m shocked by her outrage. I’ve never seen Milvi upset before. At anyone. About anything. It seems to go against her nature, which only amplifies my guilt for upsetting her.

Before I can apologize, Mr. Patronus says, “Are you okay?” and I nod, but he inspects me anyway, dusting leaves and sticks from my shoulders. I take over and try to clean up. “Must have been quite a ride,” he muses, and I want to smile and give him a
Hell yeah!
but his pinched expression dissuades me.

“What happened?” I ask tentatively. I sound disjointed because my voice is scratchy from the dust. I’d give anything for a drink of water.

Uriel calls out, “Here they come!” and everyone turns toward an opening in the trees. My second heartbeat pops alive as Michael moves into view. He and his brothers are walking along the side of the road. They are looking out in anticipation for something in the distance. I am elated to see him and start forward but Mr. Patronus throws out an arm.

“You mustn’t,” he says with a mix of reverence and authority. He has a militant stance, and his eagle eyes are focused on his sons. Tall and confident like Michael, Mr. Patronus emits the same calm demeanor that Michael does, when he’s not mad or worried about me. Mr. Patronus seems like someone who could explain my night, but now isn’t the time. His concentration lies elsewhere.

Tires squeal against the asphalt and engines roar. When two cars appear to my left—a gray Camaro and a white Charger—I know exactly where I am. The same treacherous road where Dante and I raced Wolfgang and Vaughn Raider. The same road where I thought Dante rolled the Lambo. And now the same cars from my vision are streaking toward us at full throttle. I get my mental bearings and remember what is coming, a horrific crash. Instinctively, I run ahead to warn Michael but Mr. Patronus and Milvi catch me.

In a rambling rush, I tell them what I know. They are startled by my knowledge but refuse to let me warn the others. I am forced to watch as the teens lose control and the cars tumble over the road like discarded toys.

Bumpers and mirrors spin away as the cars slam and rotate and slam again. Screaming and the unmistakable sound of twisting metal and shattering glass claw at my ears. I cover them in anguish. This is too much to bear! My body physically aches with helplessness.