Filiz had never understood how the wingless witches flew. The three of them were suspended in the rain, arms slack at their sides, making no visible effort to stay aloft. Filiz watched droplets of salty water settle like diamonds on Esme’s lustrous black hair.

Feliz ran her hand through her own hair, then regretted it. She didn’t want the witches to think she cared about how she looked. “This rain will kill us, won’t it? Poison our wells, destroy our crops—”

“How would we know, child?” the oldest witch asked.

“What will we drink?” Filiz asked. “Is it true what they say, that you have an infinite supply of freshwater? I have heard it called—”

“Our Glimmering is not for drinking, and it is certainly not for you,” Esme said.

“Are the girl’s tears as powerful as they are said to be?” Filiz asked. “And … what did you mean when you mentioned Atlas and his Filling?”

The witches’ beautiful bright caftans contrasted with the giant cloud above them. They looked at one another with amethyst-lined eyes.

“She thinks we know everything,” the oldest witch said. “I wonder why.…”

“Because,” Filiz said nervously, “you’re prophets.”

“It is Solon’s task to ready her,” the eldest said. “Take up your fear of mortality with him. If he can’t prepare the girl, your boss will owe us his cave, his possessions, all of those pretty little butterflies—”

“Solon will owe us his life.” Esme’s eyes darkened, and in a suddenly terrifying voice she said: “He will even owe us his death.”

The witches’ laughter echoed over the mountains as they floated backward and disappeared into the strengthening rain.

4

NEW BLOOD

Rain nailed Eureka to the precipice. She’d landed on the wrist broken in the accident that killed Diana. It was already swelling. The agony was familiar; she knew she’d broken it again. She struggled to her knees as the remnants of the wave flowed back over her.

A shadow fell across her body. The rain seemed to taper.

Ander was above her. One of his hands clasped the back of her head; the other caressed her cheek. His heat made it hard for Eureka to catch her breath. His chest touched hers. She felt his heartbeat. His eyes were so powerfully blue, she imagined them throwing turquoise light on her skin, making her look like sunken treasure. Their lips were centimeters apart.

“Are you hurt?”

“Yes,” she whispered, “but that’s nothing new.”

With Ander’s body against hers, no rain fell on Eureka. Heavy drops of water gathered in the air above them, and she realized his cordon covered her. She reached up and touched it. It felt smooth and light, a littlespongy. It had a there-yet-not-there quality, like the scent of night-blooming jasmine when you rounded a corner in spring. Raindrops slid down the cordon’s sides. Eureka looked into Ander’s eyes and listened to the rain, falling everywhere on earth but on them. Ander was the shelter; she was the storm.

“Where are the others?” she asked.

Images of the twins swept out to sea filled Eureka’s mind. She jumped to her feet and stood outside Ander’s cordon. Rain streamed down her face and dripped from her sleeves onto her shoes.

“Dad!” she called. “Cat!” She couldn’t see them. The sky looked like the deep end of a pool that kept growing deeper.

It had been only one exquisite moment, taking refuge in Ander’s arms, but it frightened Eureka. She could not let desire distract her from the work she had to do.

“Eureka!” William’s voice sounded far away.

She scrambled toward it. The wave had flooded the final portion of their path from rock to land, so Eureka had to jump back into the water and wade ten feet against the current to reach the shore. Ander was at her side. The water was up to their ribs, not high enough to reach her thunderstone. Their hands found each other underwater, holding tight until they could pull each other out.

Strange slopes of pale gray rock stretched before Eureka. In the distance, taller rocks formed an odd skyline of narrow cones, like God had thrown giant swells of stone on a potter’s wheel. A burst of blue appeared among the rocks—William, in his soaked Superman pajamas, waved his arm.

Eureka closed the distance between them. William stuck his thumb in his mouth. Blood stained his forehead and his hands. She grabbed his shoulders, studied his body for wounds, then held him against her chest.

He laid his head on her shoulder and hooked his forefinger on her collarbone like he always had.

“Dad’s hurt,” William said.

Eureka scanned the rocks, icy water up to her ankles. “Where?”

William pointed at a boulder rising like an island from a puddle. With her brother in her arms and Ander beside her, Eureka sloshed around the side of the rock. She saw the back of Cat’s black jeans and her lacy crocheted sweater. The patent-leather stilettos Cat had saved six months of babysitting money to buy were wedged in the mud. Eureka crouched close to the ground.

“What happened?” she asked.

Cat spun around. Mud caked her face and clothes. Rain dripped from her unraveling braids. “You’re okay,” she breathed, then stepped to the side to reveal two bodies behind her. “Your dad—”

Dad lay on his side at the base of the boulder. He cradled Claire so closely they looked like a single being. His eyes were tightly closed. Hers were tightly open.