Amma and me speaking the same words, standing over Ethan Lawson Wate—our Ethan.

His eyes opening and Uncle Macon’s closing.

Abraham standing over the Book as the fire threatened Ravenwood in the distance, his brother’s voice begging him to stop, right before he killed Jonah.

I could see it all.

All the people this book had touched and hurt.

The people I knew and the ones I didn’t recognize.

I could feel it pulling away from me again, and I screamed louder this time.

Amma grabbed the Book, her hands over mine. Where parts of her skin were touching the leather, I could feel her skin burning.

Tears formed in her eyes, but she didn’t let go.

“Help us,” I screamed into the sky.

It wasn’t the sky that answered.

Genevieve Duchannes materialized in the darkness, her hazy form close enough to touch.

Give it to me.

Amma could see her; it was obvious from her haunted expression. But I was the only one who could hear her Kelting.

Her long red hair blew in the wind, in a way that seemed both impossible and right at the same time.

I’ll take it. It doesn’t belong in this world. It never did.

I wanted to hand her the Book—to send it to Ethan and to stop Amma’s hands from burning.

But Genevieve was a Dark Caster. I only had to look at her yellow eyes to remember.

Amma was trembling.

Genevieve reached out her hand. What if I made the wrong choice? Ethan would never get the Book, and I would never see him again.…

How do I know I can trust you?

Genevieve’s heartbroken eyes stared back at me.

You’ll only know if you do.

The Greats looked down at us, and there was no way to know if they were going to help. Amma’s Mortal hands were burning alongside my Caster ones, and The Book of Moons was no closer to Ethan than when it was in Abraham Ravenwood’s hands, not long ago.

Sometimes there’s only one choice.

Sometimes you just have to jump.

Or let go…

Take it, Genevieve.

I pulled my hands away, and Amma’s moved with mine. The Book jerked free as if it sensed its only chance at escape. It lurched toward the outer circle, where John and Link were holding hands.

The glowing green light was still in place, and John concentrated his gaze on the Book. “I don’t think so.”

It hit the light and ricocheted back into the center of the circle and Genevieve’s waiting hands. She closed her hazy palms around it, and the Book seemed to shudder.

Not this time.

I held my breath, listening to Amma cry.

Genevieve pressed the Book against her chest and dematerialized.

My heart dropped. “Amma! She took it!” I couldn’t think or feel or breathe. I had made the wrong choice. I would never see Ethan again. My knees gave out, and I felt myself falling.

I heard a rip, and an arm caught me around the waist.

“Lena, look.” It was Link.

I blinked back the tears and looked at him, his free hand pointing at the sky.

Genevieve was there in the darkness, her red hair trailing behind her. She held The Book of Moons out to Sulla, who took it from her hands.

Genevieve smiled at me.

You can trust me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

She disappeared, leaving the Greats looming in the sky behind her like giants.

Amma held her burnt hands to her chest and stared up at her family from another world. The world where Ethan was trapped. Tears ran down her cheeks as the green glow died around us.

“You take that book to my boy, ya hear?”

Uncle Abner tipped his hat to her. “Be expectin’ a pie now, Amma. One a those lemon meringues will do me just fine.”

Amma choked back a final sob as her legs gave out from under her.

I dropped with her, breaking her fall. I watched as the rain drowned out the fire and the Greats disappeared. I had no way of knowing what was going to happen next. There was only one thing I knew for sure.

Ethan had a chance now.

The rest was up to him.

BOOK THREE

Ethan

CHAPTER 30

Lost Time

L. Are you there? Can you hear me? I’m waiting. I know you’ll find the Book soon.

You wouldn’t believe this place. I feel like I’m living in a ten-thousand-year-old temple, or maybe a fortress. You wouldn’t believe this guy either. My friend Xavier. At least I think he’s my friend. He’s like a ten-thousand-year-old monk. Or maybe some kind of ancient temple wombat.

Do you know what waiting feels like in a world where no time passes? Minutes feel like centuries—eternities—only worse, because you can’t even tell which is which.

I find myself counting things. Compulsively. It’s the only way I know how to mark the time.

Sixty-two plastic buttons. Eleven broken strands of between fourteen and thirty-six pearls each. One hundred and nine old baseball cards. Nine AA batteries. Twelve thousand seven hundred and fifty-four dollars and three cents in coins, from six countries. Or maybe just six centuries.

More or less.

I didn’t know how to count the doubloons.

This morning I counted grains of rice falling through the split seam of a stuffed frog. I don’t know where Xavier finds this stuff. I made it to nine hundred ninety-nine, and then I lost my place and had to start over again.

That was how I spent today.

Like I said, a person could go crazy trying to pass the time in a place with no time. When you find The Book of Moons, L, I’ll know. I’ll be out of here the second I can. I keep my stuff ready to go, by the mouth of the cave. Aunt Prue’s map. An empty flask of whiskey and a tobacco tin.