“But … what?” I floundered as the waitress began crossing over to our table. “I have no idea what to do!”

Gabrielle shrugged one shoulder. “It’s instinctive, I promise. And it’s a lot like how you used to vanish. You just have to concentrate on being seen instead of disappearing. Stay visible while you eat, though. Otherwise it’ll look like the floating-breakfast show.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” I hissed. But I fell silent the instant our waitress walked up to the table.

“Order?” she demanded in a brusque, no-nonsense tone.

“I’ll have a small café au lait and an order of beignets,” Gabrielle drawled. She smirked in my direction. “Amelia? What would you like?”

Although the waitress looked like she thought Gabrielle had gone crazy, I still felt a dizzying wave of anxiety and pressure.

After all, I’d just lost the first living person who could see me (a fact that stung on so many levels and that I tried desperately to repress again). Now I had the opportunity to appear to an entire city full of living people.

If only I could figure out how.

Do I even want to? I asked myself. Maybe I just wanted to skulk into the shadows, running from the demons and avoiding the living like I’d originally intended …

But at that moment, my stomach growled so loudly it hurt. Suddenly, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do more than to talk to the woman who stood between me and my first bite of food in more than ten years.

I felt a strange current pass over my skin just as I said, “Um, the same?”

Upon hearing my voice, the waitress actually jumped. She turned, openmouthed, to stare at me.

She saw me now. A normal, living woman—not a Seer—actually saw me.

I’d done it. I wanted to appear badly enough, and I’d done it.

I gave the server my widest smile. “I’ll just have what she’s having. Is that okay?”

With her mouth still hanging open, the waitress nodded mechanically. Then she slowly backed away from our table, keeping her eyes on me the entire time. She only looked away when she reached the relative safety of the indoor portion of the restaurant.

“Ha!” Gabrielle clapped her hands together loudly. “Man, you learned way faster than I thought you would.”

I shrugged sheepishly. “What can I say? I’m really hungry.”

Gabrielle was still laughing when our waitress returned a few minutes later carrying two steaming mugs and two heaping plates of fried doughnuts. She dumped them unceremoniously on our table, maintaining as wide a berth as possible. While Gabrielle paid in cash, the waitress kept a suspicious eye on me, hurrying away from the table as soon as she could.

“Obviously, she didn’t think we were famous,” I muttered once she’d disappeared from view.

“You,” Gabrielle corrected. “She didn’t think you were famous. I, however, pull it off fabulously.”

When I turned back to see why Gabrielle’s voice sounded garbled, I found her tucking sloppily into the beignets. She couldn’t have been eating for more than a few seconds, but she already had powdered sugar smeared on her cheeks and dusted all over her designer clothes.

Despite everything—my heartache over Joshua, my distrust of the Callioux twins, my fears about what I’d become—I started laughing so hard I actually snorted.

“Oh, yes. You are the picture of couture perfection.”

Gabrielle took another huge bite of beignet and then grinned at me, showing her food in her teeth.

“I’m a vision,” she mumbled around the pastry. “And you know it.”

I couldn’t help but keep laughing, and the sight of all those white sprinkles on her priceless cape just made it worse. I only gained better control of myself when my stomach growled, louder and more insistent than ever. So I took a few gulped breaths, wiped my tears away so that the carefully applied makeup wouldn’t streak, and then gingerly picked up a beignet.

It was hot to the touch and slick with the pastelike mixture of sugar and grease. I could smell it too: sweet and doughy. I reveled in its scent until my head spun and then drew it to my mouth for a tentative bite.

The sugar burst across my tongue, followed by the rich, yeasty taste of fried dough. I took a few more greedy bites before I’d even had time to swallow the first, finishing the entire doughnut in seconds. The moment the beignet hit my poor, neglected stomach, I thought my eyes might roll back in my head.

“Oh my God,” I moaned, grabbing my second beignet. “I’d die twice if I could eat this every day.”

“I know, right?” Gabrielle spoke through another mouthful. “And you haven’t even tried the café au lait yet.”

With my pastry-free hand, I picked up the mug and took a sip of the coffee. Again I tasted heaven: smooth chicory and creamy milk, warm and strong beneath a sweet layer of foam. I dropped the second beignet so I could concentrate more fully on the café au lait, practically chugging it in three big gulps. Once finished, I reluctantly set down the mug and licked the last drops from my lips. Even with the caffeine jitters buzzing through me, I felt satisfied. Content.

I slid lazily back in my chair. “This,” I concluded, “is awesome.”

“Glad you approve.” Gabrielle chuckled low, popping the last bite of dough into her mouth. “The best part is that you totally earned it. Now you just have to learn to go invisible again, and we’ll be set.”

“And how do I do that, exactly?” I asked, picking up the beignet I’d discarded earlier. Then I froze, thoughtlessly dropping the pastry to the ground.

“You just need the proper motivation,” Gabrielle said, dabbing at her cape with a wad of napkins. But she froze, too, when she caught the look on my face.

“Amelia,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I just found my motivation,” I whispered.

Gabrielle followed my gaze and then swore. At that moment she knew exactly why I needed to disappear. After all, the one person I wanted to appear in front of was the one person in the world I shouldn’t.

And he and his Seer family were now standing about ten feet away from us.

Chapter

TWENTY-FOUR

Everything twisted inside me.

It mangled and mashed together until I felt certain that the only thing I could do right now—the only thing I could ever do—was fly across the café, throw myself into Joshua’s arms, and apologize for the next thousand years.

Then when I finished apologizing, I would finally tell him I loved him. More than anything.

But instead, I closed my eyes and willed myself invisible.

The strange current rippled over my skin again, and I opened my eyes to see Gabrielle’s image blink out of, then back into, existence almost too rapidly to catch.

“Just to be clear,” she whispered once she finished going invisible. “We’re hiding from them, right?”

I nodded and kept my mouth shut. I felt pretty sure I would just start bawling if I tried to speak. It would have been better for my sanity, and my willpower, if I just looked away. Still, I couldn’t take my eyes off Joshua.

So many members of his family clustered together that I wouldn’t have seen him had he not stood aloof, slightly apart from his relatives. The rest of the clan seemed blissfully unaware of our presence as they debated whether to wait for a group of tables to open up outside or just go into the interior restaurant. Only Jillian threw worried glances over her shoulder at her brother.

I didn’t blame her: he looked awful. Worse than I’d ever seen him.

He hadn’t slept last night, I could tell. Dark purple circles ringed his eyes, which looked bloodshot, even from this distance. My breath caught in my throat when he rubbed a palm over his stubbled cheek and then dragged his hand roughly through his hair—a gesture I loved so much, now a part of his obvious misery.