Jillian parked a little ways away from Joshua’s and my picnic table, where we’d shared our first real conversation. The three of us got out of the car, but instead of moving to the table, Jillian guided us to a nearby swing set. We each took a seat and, for several minutes, just swept our feet in the dirt below, moving our swings a few inches back and forth. Eventually, I broke the silence.

“So . . . we’re all going to prom this Saturday. Sort of.”

Joshua shot me a surprised look, but Jillian cackled. “Are you freaking kidding me? After everything we’ve just been through, you expect us to tolerate frilly dresses and bad DJs?”

“We won’t actually be attending the prom,” I replied evenly. “We’ll just be stopping by the school, before our next showdown with the demons, to get our newest recruits.”

“Our newest recruits.” Joshua repeated my phrase flatly, like a statement instead of a question. “You and I are going on our first—and possibly last—real date . . . for recruits.”

I smiled. “And for the bad DJ. Obviously.”

In spite of himself, Joshua grinned back faintly. Jillian, however, still hadn’t bought it. “Wait, wait, wait,” she interjected. “Let me get this straight: you want to recruit non-Seers to try and do something that several experienced covens just failed at?”

“Not just any non-Seers.” I held up one finger in a sort of aha motion. “Your closest friends.”

“What?” she nearly shrieked. “You want my friends to know what you are? What I am? Are you crazy? After that, I’d be a pariah!”

Joshua shot a glare at his little sister. “Aside from that self-serving comment, Jillian makes a good point . . . sort of. We let non-Seers in on this secret, and we’re going to put them at risk.”

I shook my head sadly. “Don’t you see? They’re already at risk. No matter what I do, no matter where I go, the darkness will keep claiming the people of Wilburton. And I think we all know that the attacks are going to stop being so random. The demons know about the people I love, and they’ll have fun destroying them, even after I’m gone. Worse, they targeted you last night, Joshua.”

“Okay, maybe that’s true,” Jillian said. “Maybe Joshua is about to become Public Enemy Number Two. But how would playing demon slayer help my friends?”

“Because if your friends join us on Saturday night, then at least they’ll be more aware.”

“Of what?” she snapped.

I let out a short, frustrated puff of air. “Of the fact that I’m probably screwed anyway, therefore you and yours are next on the kill list. That’s just the damn cycle, Jillian. And I’m not going to let what happened to Serena and Gaby happen to Scott and O’Reilly and . . . hell, even Kaylen. Not without preparing them for what’s coming their way. So I think it’s unbelievably selfish of you to do otherwise, just to protect your stupid reputation.”

I answered more harshly than I’d intended, as evidenced by the fact that tears started to well up in Jillian’s eyes. Immediately, I regretted my tone, but I didn’t regret the words—Jillian needed to hear the truth.

She sniffed once and then quickly looked away, probably so that we wouldn’t see her cry. Joshua’s and my eyes caught, and held. I thought that he might be angry with me for chastising his sister about a plan in which he didn’t even believe. But I could see that that wasn’t the case. Joshua obviously agreed with me on one thing: whatever happened this Saturday, Jillian needed to start thinking about other people. Unless, of course, she wanted them killed and turned into mindless shadow puppets.

Joshua watched me for a while, studying me. And slowly, I saw him figure out what was really going on in my head. I wanted to cover every possible scenario, because—one way or another—I wouldn’t be here next Sunday. Realizing this, Joshua leaned forward and wrapped his hand around mine on the swing’s chain.

“Amelia, what happened last night, after we left you?”

Still holding on to the chain, I let my fingers slip through Joshua’s until our hands were entwined. Then, as I had promised I would always do, I told him all about my discussion with Melissa. I didn’t mince words. As plainly as possible, I explained to him that, whether the darkness captured me or the light finally allowed me to join it, I couldn’t stay here in the living world with him. That was the awful punch line of our love story: until he died and joined me on one side or the other, we wouldn’t be together after Saturday.

By now, Jillian had rejoined the conversation, albeit silently. Like Joshua, she stared at me with a dawning kind of horror. But unlike her brother, she wasn’t too stricken to interrupt me, just as I finished.

“That’s not fair,” she insisted, wiping angrily at the fresh set of tears that had sprung up in her eyes. “They can’t do this to you.”

Seeing those tears, I came to my own realization: against all odds, Jillian Mayhew cared about me; she might even have considered me her friend. I glanced between her and her brother, and then smiled softly.

“If it makes you guys feel better, I haven’t completely decided what I want to do yet. But I do know one thing: no matter where I go, I want your friends safe, and I want you safer.”

Neither of them replied, at least not verbally. Instead, Joshua untangled our fingers and stood up from his swing. Then he moved in front of me and held out one hand for me to take. I did so, allowing him to pull me up from my swing as well. When he turned and began tugging me gently toward Jillian’s car, I gave him some resistance so that he would pause.

“Where are we going?” I asked, sharing a frown with Jillian as she joined us.

With a quiet sigh, Joshua turned back around to face me. “I guess we’re going home to plan our next attack.”

Chapter

TWENTY

It had been almost four days since Joshua and Jillian had agreed to enlist their friends in our fight, but Joshua still hadn’t touched me. Not once. He had plenty of incentive: we were finally able to touch again, we had less than one week together, and he obviously needed something to distract him from the grief of losing Ruth. Yet Joshua wouldn’t so much as let his arm brush mine when we sat next to each other, eating leftover sympathy casseroles at his dining table.

Granted, he and I hadn’t been able to spend much time alone together since Sunday. Between school, the Wednesday-night baseball game he couldn’t get out of, and the family’s frantic preparations for what promised to be a hugely attended funeral, we hardly had time to share three words, much less a kiss. Still, I knew Joshua well enough to recognize when I was on the receiving end of a cold shoulder.

I’d been patient—quiet even, considering the fact that I might only have a few more days to speak freely. But by Thursday afternoon, I’d finally had enough. Joshua had just arrived home from baseball practice—something he couldn’t avoid, even for family reasons, if he wanted to earn a college scholarship this spring. Jillian and I were sitting at the breakfast table, discussing how best to break the news to her friends that they were possible demon bait.

When Joshua breezed past us with a brief, noncommittal hello, I pushed away from the table and stormed up the stairs after him. Once I caught up to him at the top of the landing, I tapped firmly on his shoulder and mentally prepared my tirade. Joshua paused, one hand on the doorknob to his bedroom, and then turned slowly around to show me his irritated scowl.