“It’s not working, is it?”

I didn’t answer Joshua, but instead turned my powder-filled fist over for him to examine its total lack of shimmer. I sighed again and let that hand fall to my side.

“It’s no use. Like Melissa said, I’ve got to be in some kind of mortal peril for this to happen. Well . . . me or someone I care about.”

By now, the Seers’ chanting had stopped and they’d dropped hands. They all listened intently to Joshua’s and my conversation. Except . . . two of them weren’t waiting. At the periphery of my vision, I saw Felix take something from Annabel. Then he began walking toward us with the object raised to chest height. In the shifting firelight, I couldn’t tell what he was carrying until he’d already pointed the small gun directly at Joshua.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Put the gun away, Felix,” I finally said, trying very hard to keep my voice even. “Everyone knows that you’re not going to shoot Joshua, just to get me to glow.”

Felix tilted his head to one side quizzically. “I’m not?” he asked, just before lowering the gun and planting one bullet in the ground near Joshua’s left foot.

“Whoa!” Joshua shouted, jerking wildly to the side without letting go of my hand. I moved with him, scurrying as far away from Felix as the Seer circle would let me.

The sound of the gunshot still rang in my ears, so loudly that I almost couldn’t hear myself shriek, “What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?”

Felix didn’t respond but instead raised the gun so that it pointed at Joshua’s shoulder. Suddenly, the ringing in my ears silenced, and everything around me seemed to sharpen into focus. Because the cold set of Felix’s mouth told me that he would shoot again . . . if he felt like he had to.

From somewhere on my right, Annabel spoke in an apologetic tone. “I’m sorry, Amelia, but this is the only way. So you’d better hurry. I don’t know if anyone at the campgrounds heard that shot, but they’re certainly going to hear the next one.”

My eyes darted to Joshua’s; even in the firelight I could tell that he shared my feelings of panic. We kept staring at each other, silently communicating about what to do next, when Felix began counting down to his next shot.

“Ten, nine, eight—”

“Felix, this is ridiculous. I can’t just do this on command like some trained—”

“Seven, six—”

“This isn’t fair.” Hysteria edged its way into my voice. “This isn’t how it’s going to happen on Saturday.”

“Five, four—”

“Stop,” I pleaded as my eyes started to well up with tears. “Please just stop this.”

“Three, two,” Felix said flatly, moving his gun so that it now pointed directly at Joshua’s heart.

“Stop!” I screamed, louder than I’d ever screamed before. And with that scream, the glow ripped across my exposed skin like a wildfire.

“One,” Felix breathed, dropping the gun to his side. Then, without an apology or explanation, he rushed to rejoin the Seer circle, which had begun to frantically chant again.

For several incomprehensible seconds, I didn’t really even register that my glow really had reappeared. But when I saw it, dancing brighter than the reflection of firelight in Joshua’s eyes, I realized that our window might close at any second.

I signaled to Joshua with a flick of my chin. At first, he seemed too dazed to react. But after a violent shake of his head—probably to clear it of sheer terror—he followed me. With our other hands clenched tightly together, we simultaneously raised our powder-filled fists. Then, like some bride and groom at a twisted version of a wedding toast, we tilted our heads back, opened our hands, and dumped as much of the Transfer Powder as we could into our mouths.

It tasted . . . not great, but not as bad as I’d thought it would, either. Dry and powdery, obviously, but also a little sweet and herby. As I continued to swallow it, I had a sudden flash of memory: my father and I, sitting in the Indian restaurant that he’d insisted we drive all the way to Tulsa to try; in front of us was a near-empty plate of rich, creamy korma, which I’d complained about but had secretly loved. The image vanished with the last traces of powder.

I raised my head, swallowing around the knot of powder that seemed stuck in my throat, and then peeked at Joshua. He, too, made strange motions with his mouth, as though he had tried to chew a bit of it; not a terribly pleasant effort, judging by the look on his face.

“Done?” I asked, my voice rough.

“Done.” Joshua nodded, obviously trying not to gag as he spoke. “So . . . what now?”

I looked back over my shoulder at Annabel, who was still chanting solemnly with her eyes closed, and then turned back to Joshua.

“To be honest,” I told him, “I have no freaking clue. I don’t know if we’re supposed to hold hands, or turn in circles, or tap dance, or—”

Joshua surprised me by darting in for a kiss. His fingers rested softly on my neck, and as we kissed, his thumb stroked my cheek. He tasted gritty from the Transfer Powder, but also impossibly sweet. And his kiss told me that he’d been afraid, too; that I wasn’t the only one scared by Felix’s gun.

Our kiss lasted a few more seconds. I kept my eyes closed after it ended, leaning back and sighing happily. When I opened my eyes, however, I gasped.

Before the kiss, Joshua’s skin had looked like that of any normal, living boy. Now it shined with a spectral fire, curling over his arms and face without burning them.

“Joshua,” I whispered reverently, “you glow.”

With a disbelieving frown, he lifted his hand. The moment he saw its new light, he jerked backward as though he really had been lit on fire. He waved his hand violently, like that might put out the glow. But soon, his expression shifted from one of horror to wonder.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he marveled, turning his hand over more slowly. “I always thought it would hurt.”

“No, it never hurts. In fact, it’s kind of—”

“Exhilarating,” Joshua finished. He grinned widely and flexed his fingers outward, so that his hand resembled a torch. But then his smile disappeared.

“How do we even know if it works?” he asked, loud enough that the entire group of Seers could hear. No one replied, but they didn’t need to: the answer struck me, almost as soon as he asked the question.

“Burn me,” I said softly.

“What?”

“Burn me,” I repeated, stepping closer to him. “The glow only works on supernatural beings, and I’m the only supernatural being here. You have to try to burn me.”

Joshua shook his head, grimacing. “I won’t.”

“Just try,” I urged. Then, as a weak joke, I warned, “Or Felix might shoot at you again.”

“No, Amelia . . . just no. And besides, you’re still glowing, too.”

He had a point. I had no idea what the two different fires might do to each other, and I didn’t necessarily want to find out. So I closed my eyes and focused on something less . . . glow inspiring, I supposed. I pictured the Mayhew family, sitting around their living room, laughing and safe and demon-free; just for laughs, I threw my mom into the image too. However silly, the exercise obviously worked; when I reopened my eyes, the glow had left my skin.

I glanced up and saw Joshua staring at me in disbelief. “How did you do that?” he asked.

“I focused on something that didn’t . . . get me too worked up, I guess. Anything calm or safe seems to make it go away.”

Then I held out my unlit arm to Joshua as an offering. He shook his head again, harder this time.

“Try,” I said, gesturing emphatically at him with my outstretched arm. “Just one burn. To see if you’ll be able to use the glow against the wraiths on Saturday. One burn, Joshua. For Ruth. For me.”

I thought he would refuse me again, but instead he shot his hand forward like a snake and wrapped his fingers, hard, around my wrist. Although we’d previously touched without hurting each other, Joshua must have decided to take the exercise seriously because it felt as though his hand was a hot iron on my wrist. My brain had barely registered the searing pain before I was yanking my arm back with a cry.