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across the street and watching it. Just watching it. What had brought Seyer to my home, just in time to witness the fire? It couldn’t have been coincidence. Later, when I overheard her talking to Morgana in the Seers’ garden,it sounded like the two of them wanted me to be safe. But they also talked about controlling my movements, and my being part of some mysterious project they were running. Games within games within games. Every instinct in my soul warned me to keep away from her—far, far away—but Rita’s suggestion had merit, there was no denying that. Seyer was one link between the worlds that did not involve Greys or Shadows. Perhaps the only one.
    â€œWhy would she help?” I asked at last. “She doesn’t give a damn what happens to Mom. And her Guild seemed pretty affluent; I doubt the kind of money we could offer would tempt her.”
    â€œBut you have something else she wants,” Tommy said. “Your paintings, remember? She wanted to buy one. Well, now all your art is gone, so there’s nothing she can buy from you, or even steal, unless you paint something new.”
    The thought of giving one of my paintings to Seyer made my skin crawl; it bothered me that I didn’t know why.
Easy, girl. It’s just a painting. Not like you’re selling her your soul.
“Even if I did that, how would she find out about it? She saw my work the first time because it was in a show at the school.”
    Rita said, “What about the gallery your aunt was talking about? Could you put something on display there?”
    â€œYeah, but what are the chances Seyer would wander through on the day it happened to be there? I just don’t see that happening.”
    â€œMaybe if there was some kind of publicity?” Devon suggested.
    Tommy pulled out his cell phone and start scrolling through web pages. I couldn’t read the text from where I was sitting, but I saw a picture of Berkeley Springs Castle flash by. Then: “Bingo!” he announced, and he turned the phone to face us. The text was too small to read, so I took it from him, read what he’d found, and then passed it on to the others. The web page was
www.bsoldmillgallery.com.
    Vendor list for the Independence Day Show,
it said. Aunt Rose’s name was on it. So were dozens of others.
    â€œOf course,” Tommy said, “Getting on that list would only help if Seyer was still keeping tabs on you online.”
    A chill crept up my spine. “You think she’s doing that?”
    â€œDon’t you?” he asked.
    I wanted to say no. I wanted to believe that when we left Terra Prime, that was the end of our involvement with that dreadful world. But Alia Morgana had referred to me as her
project
, which meant she probably had people keeping tabs on me. And since we knew that there were Greys who used the internet for surveillance—that’s how they’d found out about Tommy’s alleged dreams—we’d be fools not to expect the same level of expertise from Morgana’s people.
    She was watching me. The thought of it made my skin crawl, but I knew in my gut it was true. “Only three days away,” I muttered. “Not a lot of time to paint a masterpiece.”
    â€œIt doesn’t have to be a masterpiece,” Devon said reasonably. “Just good enough to pique her interest.”
    I shut my eyes for a moment. I could see Seyer standing in front of me, her eyes glowing yellow, like a serpent’s, reflecting the flames from my house. Like a demon from Dante’s Inferno.
    It’s for Mom,
I told myself. Gritting my teeth, I forced the ominous image out of my mind.
Do it for Mom.
    â€œAll right,” I muttered. “I’ll talk to Aunt Rose about painting something for the show.” I shook my head. “She’ll be ecstatic about that, anyway.” I handed Tommy back his phone. “Let’s see if we can’t draw the serpent out of