Her words flustered me. I supposed I knew, in an abstract sort of way, that Esther cared about my well-being, but she’d never questioned me on it before. Though her voice still had a slight rasp in it, it lacked its familiar edge. As she watched me, her expression was solemn, not sharp. And so what came out of my mouth wasn’t a polite comment or a flippant remark. It was the truth. “I’m scared,” I said.

“You are not alone in the sentiment.”

“I need to ask you something,” I said. But I didn’t say it immediately. I waited, biting my lip. I thought of my Nav cards, and how I had tucked them away in my closet, in an old shoebox filled with postcards and handwritten notes. I had set them inside and shut the lid. That was the day I’d lied to Gideon. The day I had told him he was Kin. I hadn’t touched the cards since. I had decided, then, that there were some things I didn’t want to know. Places I didn’t want to look.

She is with the worms, I heard Shane jeer.

I hesitated so long that Esther arched her eyebrows and said, “Yes?”

I had come this far already. The time for retreat had passed. And this wasn’t something I wanted to know; it was something I needed to. I looked up, meeting her gaze. “I want to talk to you about Brooke Oliver. The Remnant.”

I Knew it then, before she even drew in a breath.

It didn’t come to me in images or impressions; it wasn’t some memory that crept into my thoughts. I saw it in the way Esther’s eyes flicked from mine, just for a moment, to gaze down at her hands, in the way her jaw tightened. I heard it in the silence that lengthened between us. It crackled in the air around us. My heart stopped. My lips parted, but no sound came out. I wanted to rise from my chair and run from the room, but my legs wouldn’t obey. I sat frozen.

“Tell me,” I said.

Esther’s mouth was set in a hard line. When she spoke, her tone was clipped. “There is nothing to tell.”

“They killed her,” I said. They’d really done it, as Shane had said. They had cut her open and let the poison out. I rocked back in my chair, covering my mouth with my hand. I stared at Esther. This was the secret she’d been keeping, I realized. I had sensed it that day at the hospital—the worry that had weighed on her mind, troubling her thoughts. “They killed her and you knew.”

Her gaze sharpened. “I didn’t.”

“But you guessed. You found out,” I accused. There was a lump in my throat.

Esther didn’t answer. We looked at each other, unspeaking, and now another Knowing came to me, some stray memory that surfaced. It wasn’t an image of Brooke, as I’d expected. It was of a young woman holding an infant, her fingers twining in the soft down of his hair. She rocked him gently, cradling him against her, and though a smile curved her lips, there was an element of sadness about the scene, a sense of mourning.

I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to Know whatever grief Esther held close. There was a sinking feeling in my stomach. A sense of futility, like I was underwater, being weighed down even as I clawed toward the surface. “You found out,” I repeated.

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t stop it.”

“No.”

“You let them butcher a girl whose only crime was existing. Do you know how completely messed up that is?” I felt sick. Tears stung my eyes, and I wiped them away angrily.

Esther didn’t even flinch. Her gaze remained steady. “Are you awaiting some justification? I don’t know that it was justified. Only that it was the decision they made.”

“Well, you definitely picked the wrong person to succeed you then, because there is no way Mom would go along with decisions that involve murder.”

“I know.” Esther stood, moving toward the window, where the thin morning light pushed in through the curtains. “I remember Lucy as she was in her youth. A more willful creature I had never known. She wasn’t just rebellious, she was wild. Completely heedless of others. Angry at everyone and everything. But she had so much strength of spirit. She had heart. You could never grudge her that. Adrian softened her edges somewhat, but the steel was always there, underneath. She fought so hard against his sealing. She begged us to wait, to find another way. At the time, I believed there was no other option. The Kin needed protecting. Verrick needed to be stopped. I understood the cost, and so did Adrian. But I look at my son now, and I wonder if we made the right choice. If perhaps I should have fought harder.” She cleared her throat, turning to face me once more. “As for the girl. The Kin are safer for the death of the Remnant. But I cannot say if we are better for it. And it has occurred to me that perhaps we could benefit from a little disagreement.”

Disagreement was certainly one of Mom’s specialties. “That’s why you want Mom to take over?”

“I don’t know that the right choice was made. I do know that it was the same choice we have made throughout history, and that it is a choice we’re sure to make again.” Her expression turned wry. “But if there is another path to tread, I have no doubt Lucy will be the one to find it.”

“Brooke will still be dead,” I whispered.

“As will the elders, so it appears the question is moot now, isn’t it?” She sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’m tired, Audrey. And I have no desire to discuss morality with you further. We have other matters to occupy us. There will be more death soon enough. The elders were merely this demon’s opening act. I fear there is far worse yet to come.”

I felt a prickle on the back of my neck. “Worse how?”

“His choice of targets was deliberate, not random. It was a culling. It was a statement of intent.” She strode across the room toward me, reaching out and gripping one of my hands. I tried to pull away, but she held fast. Her skin was chilled. Her face was grim. “We are not simply being hunted this time. We are being Harrowed.”

We are being Harrowed.

The words reverberated in my head as I drove back to Minneapolis. I tried to push them away. I tried to concentrate on the highway before me. I had the windows rolled all the way down, and I listened to the roar of the traffic, felt the wind whipping against my face. I cranked up the radio to drown out the echo of Esther’s voice. I didn’t want to think. If I thought too hard, I would see Shane standing over Sonja, her body being dragged Beneath. I would see Brooke cowering, tears streaming down her cheeks. I would hear myself promising to help her. I would hear We are being Harrowed.

Eventually, the blur of the highway became the quiet of neighborhood streets. A light rain had darkened the pavement, and all along the sidewalks, lawns glistened. I turned the corner and my house came into view. The windows were dark. Mom wasn’t home, and though Leon and I had plans to train again today, he had class until the afternoon. For a moment after I pulled into the driveway, I just sat in the car, gripping the steering wheel and gazing out toward the house. A strange lethargy had come over me. The radio blared in my ears, but I barely heard it.

I wondered what they had done with Brooke’s body.

I wondered what they had said to her mother.

Finally, I shut off the car, leaning my head against the steering wheel briefly before I stepped out. I shut the door harder than intended and jumped at the sound. I turned toward my house, letting out a low sigh. Warm sunlight touched my shoulders.

But a chill crawled up my spine.

My lethargy dissolved. I spun about.

It happened quickly. One moment, the Harrower appeared: half-human, the gleam of scales showing through his forearms and face as his pale eyes watched me. The next moment a hand reached out from behind him. Fingers curled around his throat, squeezing. Before he could even scream, there was the sound of a crack. He slid to the cement, limp and lifeless.