“What do you want to do, Amelia?” Joshua asked quietly.

I glanced at Felix, then at Jillian, and then, finally, at Joshua. So softly I almost couldn’t hear myself, I said:

“I want to go home.”

Chapter

THIRTY-ONE

The four of us moved quickly down Decatur, trying to avoid the large crowds pouring out of midnight mass at the cathedral by Jackson Square. Once we reached the Lower Pontalba, Joshua and Jillian waited outside while Felix led me into the building.

Together, Felix and I walked in silence up the dark stairwell, down the narrow hallway leading to the apartment, and into the living room. There he clicked on a few lamps and then wordlessly signaled me to follow him out of the room.

When we passed the slipcovered couch—the place where Gaby had told me what I’d become—a hard lump formed in my throat. I tried to swallow it away as we moved toward Gaby’s bedroom.

Inside, the room already felt colder. Emptier. I flipped on the overhead light and leaned against one of the bedposts while Felix crossed over to the closet. He opened the doors and, even from here, I could see the top of the clothing pile on the floor. It was disorienting. To think that I’d stood here with Gaby only this morning—it felt like an entire lifetime ago.

After a few minutes the closet light went dark and Felix stepped out of it, carrying a brown-and-gold-checked overnight bag.

“Here,” he said roughly, handing it to me. “Gaby would want you to stay fashionable. Besides, I don’t think a few items of clothing and some shoes are going to make much difference.”

I took the bag from him without protest, but in the few seconds when it touched both our hands, I hesitated.

“I can stay,” I said softly, “if you want.”

For a moment, emotion glimmered in Felix’s eyes: sadness, regret, assent, uncertainty. Too much for someone to handle all at once. He closed his eyes, shutting those thoughts off from me, and shook his head.

“I’m not staying here, either. I only lived in this place to make Gaby happy. Now that she’s really … Now I think I’ll take my buddies up on their offer to be their fourth roommate. Anyway, it’s safer to just get out of this apartment, right?”

“Right,” I said with a humorless laugh. “Getting arrested for squatting would be—”

“The perfect end to a great couple of years,” he finished, giving me a smile that seemed far more broken than bitter. We fell silent again, neither of us sure how to follow that statement.

Finally, I nodded in the direction of the disastrous closet. “So, should we clean this place up?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll pick everything up before I leave. You should just go ahead and get back to the Mayhews.”

“But, Felix, this is a lot for one person to clean—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupted quickly, shaking his head. “Besides, I think I just need some … time. Alone.”

I didn’t imagine the crack in his voice when he said the word “alone.” I didn’t want to think about why that word had a particular significance to him now. I tucked my bottom lip between my teeth, nodded, and said, “I understand.”

Without thinking, I reached out to give Felix’s hand a comforting squeeze. But I withdrew before we made that numb noncontact again. After all, he didn’t need a reminder of the barrier between us—a barrier that existed because of his sister’s magic.

Magic that didn’t exist anymore. Not in this world.

Shouldering the overnight bag, I stepped aside so that Felix could lead me into the hallway. I tossed one last glance at the bedroom before he shut off the light, plunging it into darkness and out of my life forever.

Again, Felix and I remained silent as he walked me to the entrance of the apartment; but when we reached the front door, I paused.

He looked away from me, ducked his head, and began fumbling in his coat pockets. He pulled out a wadded-up restaurant receipt and a pen emblazoned with the word “Antoine’s.” Using his hand as a flat surface, Felix scribbled something on the back of the receipt and then handed it to me.

“My cell phone number,” he explained. “In case you ever need to reach me.”

“Thanks,” I said, tucking the paper into my own pocket. Then I lowered my head, frowning as I studied the rounded toes of my boots. Finally, I looked up, caught Felix’s gaze, and held it.

“Just so you know,” I whispered, “in the end she was my friend.”

Felix nodded, answering me in a heavy, raw voice.

“Just so you know, you were her friend too.”

After that there was nothing more to say.

Felix pulled back the door for me, keeping it open so I’d have some light while I descended the stairs. At the bottom of the stairwell, I took a final glance up at him. But I couldn’t see anything except a tiny glow of light high above me.

I sighed quietly and then pushed open the door that led outside. I rejoined the Mayhews and, without saying a word to one another, we moved in unison back out to Decatur.

On our walk to Ursulines, Joshua stayed on my right side. I tried not to look at him, since I had no idea what I would say or do once I did. Jillian walked on my left, and from that vantage point I could see the nasty cut where Alex hit her with the gun. It looked painful, jagging its way along her temple and into her hairline. A gory mess still covered her cheek. Jillian hadn’t wiped it clean, probably because she just couldn’t seem to stop apologizing to me.

Most of our exchanges started with her proclaiming “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.” Then I answered with a quiet “I know.”

Or Jillian tried the following route: “All I wanted was for my brother to be happier. To live his life like a normal guy.”

To that, I again answered, “I know.”

During these brief conversations, Joshua stayed quiet, even when I quickly explained my new state of being. Every now and then he would point out a less-crowded path along the sidewalk, where late-night revelers stumbled along singing Christmas carols and toasting each other from plastic cups. Otherwise, Joshua remained completely silent. He only spoke once we’d turned onto the much quieter Ursulines Avenue.

“We need to think up some excuse to get Amelia home with us,” he murmured. “Before we leave for Oklahoma.”

“I can just go invisible again. Maybe just hang out somewhere out of the way …”

“I think I’ve got it covered,” Jillian said. “Just let me do the talking.”

She hurried the few remaining feet to the Mayhews’ town house; but before she could knock on the door, I called out to her.

“Jillian, wait.”

I jogged over, unzipping my overnight bag with one hand. Reaching into the opening, I tugged out the first piece of fabric I could grasp. Then I stretched out my hand to offer Jillian a bundle of pink silk.

“Unless it’s part of your plan,” I said, “you’d better wipe off all that blood.”

She gingerly touched the cut at her temple and withdrew blood-coated fingertips.

“Gross,” she muttered. With her clean hand, she took the fabric from me. She’d nearly brought it to her head when she paused and stared wide-eyed at the silk.

“Am I crazy,” she asked, “or does that label say Dior?”

I shrugged. “Just think of it as the world’s most expensive compress.”

Jillian cringed, but after another moment’s hesitation, she pressed the fabric to her temple. She held it there for a while, making sure the blood flow had been completely staunched, and then started to dab the mess clean. While she did so, she smiled at me.

It was a macabre sort of image: a pretty young girl holding a bloody shirt to her head and smiling. Although the sight was odd, it was also one of the few times I’d seen Jillian smile genuinely. And she smiled at me. Even in this strange moment, I couldn’t help but feel that she and I had just reached some kind of milestone.