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through my blood. Last time, it hadn’t worked. Augustine had left and he’d never come back. But this boy wouldn’t be going anywhere.
    My other hand held a bloody knife, and I turned to the man lying still and barely breathing and I raised that blade …
    When I pulled my hand back, the knife was gone. I was me again.
    If I had any doubts about what was happening, that last vision erased them. The blond boy on the bed, the knife and the voodoo charm—Lucy had told me enough about her dreams for me to know that I was seeing what had happened in this place long ago. I was seeing Thisbe , but I wasn’t dreaming the way Lucy did when she learned about her own past life.
    I looked at my hands in horror, not understanding what was happening or why. I’d never been able to see anything like that before, and I shouldn’t have been able to see anything like that at all, not when they’d taken my hair. That sacrifice was supposed to have stopped Thisbe from having any connection to me. I couldn’t let myself believe it had been for nothing.
    But again, I felt the sensation of warm fingers stroking my neck.
    My skin prickled, and the room felt suddenly too warm, like a fire was burning in the empty hearth. Every cell in my body said run, but I couldn’t.
    Didn’t want to.
    Because the truth was, part of me still wanted to find my mother before anyone else did. Even though I knew what she was, I wanted the chance to ask her, face-to-face, the one question that had been running through my mind for two weeks now— why ?
    A familiar chuckle rumbled through my brain, so deep and dark I felt like I was drowning in it. But familiar as that dark laugh was, as much as it sounded like the musical tones of my momma’s voice, I didn’t trust it.
    â€œMomma?” I whispered, my voice barely breaking the uneasy silence that surrounded me.
    You miss me, sweet girl? The voice that sounded so much like my mother’s echoed in my head. The fingers were still there, their ghostly rhythm soothing me. Rubbing away my doubts.
    Of course , I wanted to say. Because I did miss the momma I had known once. But I didn’t say anything.
    I might have wanted to believe the gentle hands stroking my neck belonged to her, but I was raised on enough tales of spirits and tricksters to know that not everything is what it appears to be.
    â€œGive me a sign,” I whispered. “I miss my momma, sure enough, but you gotta show me that you are her before I’ll believe a thing you say.”
    The warm fingers were gone and a grip like ice stole my breath.
    Do I now? The dark chuckle echoed through my head again. You say you miss your momma, but you’re still running around with those who would end her. You don’t trust the very person who gave life to you.
    I struggled to take a breath, but it was impossible. My throat ached from the strength of the invisible grip squeezing it, and my lungs had seized up.
    You listen, baby girl. You think about which side you want to be on. You think about who you owe your loyalty to. And when you’re ready to be the dutiful child I raised you to be, you come on back to me and we’ll be together. We’ll be together always.
    The icy fingers released me, and I gasped for air, but the lungful I got tasted heavy and dark.
    Shaken, with my clothes stuck to me with sweat, I stood on unsteady legs. I loved my mother. I would always love the mother I had known, but I knew in that moment, my throat still aching from the pain of those invisible fingers, that I wouldn’t take the side of a monster. No matter how much part of me might want to if it meant having my mother back.
    My vision swam a bit as I made my way back to the front of the cabin, and I wasn’t exactly sure on my feet as I walked toward the front door. I stumbled a bit and used the frame of the door to catch myself.
    The man from that first vision—Augustine—looked up at