The realization struck me like lightning.

“The tattoo on Jupe’s hip—my sigil!”

He’d marked himself as mine. He was in danger—and magick linked us. I’d never seen anything like it, but when I concentrated, I could feel my Heka draining and funneling into the thread.

“Does it go through any object?” Lon asked, tugging me back inside and shifting me in front of a wall. He looked through the window. “Right through the damn house,” he said. “We don’t need Hajo. We can track him through you.”

Lon slammed the window and locked it. “Bob, change of plans,” he said as we raced out of the bedroom and down the stairs. “Stay here at Cady’s and watch my dog. Call that bastard junkie and tell him we don’t need him. We’ll call you if we need backup.”

Bob was sweating again. “What if the demon returns?”

“Tell Foxglove ‘Squirrel.’ That’s her command to attack. Don’t feed her, and stay out of Cady’s underwear. I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“Right. Keep your phone turned on,” Lon said as he grabbed his coat on the way out. “If we make it back with my boy, I’ll cook you dinner.”

And with that, we raced across the driveway and loaded into Lon’s SUV.

“Keep your hand on the dash so I can see which way it’s pulling,” he said as he slammed the car into gear. We both fixated on the taut line of gold that passed through the windshield and pointed upward into the night sky. It was astounding.

“Is it part of your Moonchild power, or what?” Lon asked as he sped down my street fast enough to get pulled over. Luckily no one was around to stop him.

“No idea, but it if leads us to Jupe, I don’t care.”

“Agreed.”

Lon ran a four-way stop and swerved around a corner, following the thread.

“You watch the road,” I suggested. “I’ll watch the thread and call Dare.” I continued to hold my hand over the dash as I dialed Dare one-handed and updated him. He didn’t say much. Only that he would send people to Ms. Forsythe’s address in Morella and an instruction to call him if we ended up somewhere else. Good enough. I hung up the phone and gave Lon Ms. Forsythe’s address, 623 Monte Verde Street in the Rancho District.

“The Rancho District is out this way, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” I didn’t want to assume anything, so I just watched the thread. I was really noticing the loss of Heka now. I wasn’t outright nauseous, but I was starting to feel a little low-blood-sugary. I kept the complaint to myself. If I passed out, Lon could just prop me up and continue to use me as a GPS.

After a few blocks flew by my window, Lon mumbled, “I think someone’s following us.”

He pointed out a dark sedan trailing a few car lengths back on the four-lane. When a white compact changed lanes to move behind us, the sedan went out of its way to speed up, weave around the small car, and slide into place again at our tail.

“Looks like an older model. Seventies or something. Dark green.” If Jupe was with us, he’d be able to identify it. My chest tightened.

“Can you see the driver?”

“No,” I admitted. “Too far away. Would Dare have sent someone local in Morella? Someone he’s hired?”

“Don’t know.”

We were on the outskirts of downtown, and traffic wasn’t heavy here, so I suggested he run the red light up ahead. Why not? He’d already violated a kajillion traffic laws and the intersection was clear. Almost. He slowed down, feigning a stop as he let a lone car cross, then slammed on the gas and ran the light. I gripped the armrest and briefly closed my eyes as someone honked at us.

“Where are they?” Lon asked as he sped away from the intersection.

“Shit! They went through the light!”

This was no friendly follower.

“Watch the gold thread and hold on.” He took a sharp right. The SUV’s wheels protested as we rounded the corner. I swiveled to peer out the back window. As we sped down the block, a pair of headlights made the same sharp turn.

“Still following!” I said.

“What the hell?” Lon mumbled. “How many people in the car? Can you tell?”

“Just a driver, I think. You think it could be Merrin?”

My head bounced as Lon raced across railroad tracks. The golden thread stretched straight ahead, but the sedan was gaining on us. We were going to have to do some fast maneuvering to lose it. I blurted out heated instructions to Lon. He ignored everything I suggested and cut across two lanes of traffic without warning, scaring the hell out of me.

We made another sudden turn and tore down a busy street filled with strip clubs and seedy restaurants offering $4.99 steak dinners. A few adults in Halloween costumes dotted the sidewalk as we wove in and out of traffic, nearly clipping off a car door that was swinging open on a parallel-parked van.

“Still following.”

“I’ve got eyes,” Lon snapped.

I ignored that—you know, his son being snatched by an evil demon and all. Besides, I was too busy feeling woozy, either from the loss of Heka or the crazy driving. I tried to watch the golden thread but was terrified to take my eyes off the road. Then I recognized a cross street. Lon did, too. We were in the Rancho District. He caught the tail end of a yellow light through a busy intersection and turned. Don’t follow, I thought, as if that would help.