EPILOGUE

T he Wight takes them all to the apartment, just long enough for Chloe to panic call Gurlien—to no result—and grab the cat, before spinning them off to a safe hiding place, deep in the snowy woods of Toronto.

There's a cabin, dizzyingly close to the one on the Washington coast, and the Wights contact a physician to examine them all.

Chloe's panicking, calling Gurlien, pacing in the other room, and all Delina can tell is that Gurlien's not…dead.

She's not sure how she can tell, but she can tell.

Maison alternates between staring dumbly at Delina, hugging his mom, and grabbing Delina's hand. It's like all the words are stolen from him as well.

Before whatever doctor gets there, in the shocked moments of sitting on a couch, Maison's mother turns to Delina, her face intent.

Delina just stares back, beyond exhausted.

"I know enough of this magic to know that should be impossible," she says, and there's the steel in her voice again, familiar.

Delina can't think of a thing to say to that, and just shrugs.

"You're the girl my son's fallen for?" she asks, and it's so incomplete of a question, so beyond anything that she should be asking in this moment, that a smile breaks over Delina's face.

"Yeah," Delina manages out, and Maison makes an embarrassed noise, the only sound he's made since they left.

Maison's mother nods, as if that explains everything, before the Wight swings back into the room.

She's fully visible to everyone, near as Delina can tell.

"We've contacted the West Coast," she says, and Delina can't quite understand it. "The Wights there knew your mother, and know your cousin."

Delina nods, because of course they do.

They travel outside of Vancouver in small bursts of teleportation helped by Wights, until they're greeted outside a sprawling compound. Snow dusts the top of the trees, and dead blackberry canes line the road.

It's a squat set of buildings, ugly and jutting out from the wilderness, and Maison leans heavily against Delina, still wobbling.

His mother is fine, breathing and walking like nothing had happened to her at all that day. Chloe's still dialing Gurlien in panic.

All Delina can tell is he's not dead. She doesn't know how she can tell it, but she can, her skin crawling with the awareness.

To greet them, six people stand at the base of a sloping driveway, one Delina very much so does not want to pull Maison up unassisted, and Maison straightens, like he's once more preparing for a fight.

Instead, Delina just studies them as they come into view.

The tall woman with the beautiful black hair, from the passport, her golden glasses glinting in the sun, a Wight standing next to her, shoulder to shoulder. A young man, his hair curly and wild, with the now-familiar form of Terese a half step behind him, her eyes colorless and distrustful. Another man, his brown hair pulled back, and he's not quite human, not quite, though Delina's awareness slides off of him if she thinks too hard.

And then…the last person, a young woman, shorter than the rest, her dark brown hair wavy, but when she meets Delina's eyes, she knows…

The other Necromancer.