Stupid. I was imagining what I wanted to feel. After the rooster and the curse on my house, I shouldn't have had any illusions that my momma wanted anything to do with me, or at least nothing good. Giving myself a mental shake, I mounted the steps before I could change my mind. It took a bit of time to wrench open one of the French doors at the front of the house, but once I did, it was easy enough to step into the closed-up warmth of the interior.

Inside was dim and smelled strongly of new plaster and something damp and old beneath it. I detected another scent, toosomething earthy and heavyan almost oily smell that reminded me of the jars sitting on Mama Legba's shelves. Maybe some herb I wasn't familiar with? But I couldn't tell if it was the ghost of a scent from years past or something more recent.

The interior of the cabin was mostly empty. The floors were worn in certain places where furniture might have once stood, and everything was covered with a layer of dust from the restoration the university was doing. But small as it was, it was a comfortable space, and the way the rooms flowed one into the next reminded me of my own house.

I took my time walking around, wondering what it would have been like to live there a hundred years ago. Imagining the furniture that must have stood against the walls.

The walls would have been washed white, I knew, to protect against the diseases that ran so rampant in the slave quarters. Like a little whitewash could stop cholera. And there would have been some furniture, maybe even a picture or two on the walls.

I ran my fingers along one of the jointed boards of the wall.

A finely wrought chest stood there, its wood gleaming darkly. Opposite, a velvet-covered settee ...

I shook my head, disrupting the image. No way would an ex-slave woman in Thisbe's position have had anything so fine as what I was imagining. And yet, if I closed my eyes ... I reached out and pressed my hand against the wall again. All at once, I could see it. All at once, an image rose up stronger than before, wiping away my present and pulling me back, back into a distant past ...

Strangers filled the roomsand friends, too. But all of them wanting something. All of them needing something. All they had to give me in return was a couple of limp chickens or a few handfuls of meal.

And they would give it.

They'd give the fish they stole from their master's stream, and the scuppernong they pilfered from the wild vines in the forest. They'd give near anything for one of my charms. Anything for the hope of something more than the narrow lives they clung to. Some would trade their very own soul for some protection against the dangers of this world.

Always filling up my rooms and wanting and needing. And not one of them ever bringing what I really needed. What I'd been waiting for so long.

I pulled my hand away, startled at the thoughts that had tumbled through my mind. The image had been so vivid that I could have reached right out and run my hand across the velvet. Still, I could almost smell the bodies with three days of labor clinging to their skin and feel the pressure of the crowd pushing down on me with their need, when all I wanted to do was breathe free. When all I craved was the cool night air and something else that I'd been missing.

But it wasn't me that was missing and craving something. Like yesterday, I was seeing through another pair of eyes, feeling another person's thoughts.

Yesterday, I'd thought that the vision happened because the charm still contained some of Thisbe's magic, and I wondered if that explained this vision, toomaybe the cabin itself still held a bit of her power. But I didn't sense any power here, not like I'd sensed the almost spiteful energy that radiated off that charm. I wasn't sure what to make of that.

I followed the rooms until I reached the back of the house. The university had recently rebuilt the fireplace there, and the new brick stood out strikingly red against the blackened remains of the hearth. The furniture in that room had been pushed up against the walla low bed, a worn cabinet with an amazing number of doors and drawers.

That room felt strangely peaceful. The whole cabin was silent as a grave, but the back room was somehow even more so. It felt like a private place, but nothing there looked like the mother I knew. Nothing felt like her.

I sat carefully on the low, platform-like bed, and the moment my hands touched the worn slats, the room around me shifted, changed ...

A fire was burning low in the hearth, the room dark except for its subtle glow. On the low-slung bed was the body of a younger man with sharp features and hair like spun gold. His face was slack with something stronger than sleep.

I bent over him, my mouth curving into a smile. "You're going to give me more time," my mouth said, moving on its own. "You're gonna give me everything."

I gasped, standing up and releasing my hold on the low bed, and when I did, the room came back to me as it truly was. But my heart was thundering in my chest, and my breathing was fast and anxious. It had seemed so real.

Forcing myself to take a slow, steady breath, I considered what had just happened. Slowly, because I wasn't sure that I was making the right decision, I reached out and touched one of the small drawers in the cabinet next to the bed.

I pulled out the tiny man I'd made for that particular purpose, excitement coursing 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 charmLucy 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 nowwhy?

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.

"Momma?" 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.

"Give 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 visionAugustinelooked up at me. He wouldn't come in and he wouldn't come any closer.

I'd give this all up, I told him. We could leave all this behind. I'd give it up now if you'd walk away with me.

But his eyes were dark with frustration and he wouldn't answer me. He only turned away ...

I pulled my hands back, like the door was on fire. I needed to get out of there. Needed to be away from the closeness in the air and the voice that echoed through my mind with its dark laughter.

I stepped onto the porch and then kept walking until I was down the steps and safe on the ground. I drew a deep breath into my lungs, trying to erase the memory of the cabin and the unsettled feeling I had. Trying to make myself breathe steady and easy.

That's when I realized how late it was.

I'd come to the cabin right about the time the sun was barely warming up the horizon. By the time I came out, it had already climbed high into the sky. It had to be well on into late morning, which wasn't possible. I hadn't been inside the cabin for more than ten or fifteen minutes at most.

My hands shook as I took out my phone and checked the time. I'd lost hours. Whole hours that had felt like minutes.

Just like before, I thought with a sinking sense of dread. A whole morning gone, and I had no real memory of where all that time went. Or what I'd been doing during it.

The screen of the phone lit suddenly, and a list of texts greeted me, all from Lucy and Piers. As I scrolled through them, I saw that the messages had become more panicked with every one I hadn't answered. I tried to text Lucy back, but the reception wasn't strong enough for the message to get through.

As I walked, I shivered in the heat, wrapping my arms around myself to ward off the icy dread that had settled over me. Last time I lost time, Thisbemy mommahad taken over my body and used it to hurt innocent people. I examined my hands, my legs, but found no sign that I'd been anywhere but the cabin. Which didn't make me feel much better. It's not like I knew how to tell if Thisbe had possessed me again.

As I ran a hand over the close-cropped cap of what was left of my hair, tears burned in my eyes. Thisbe was still out there, and she maybe still had the ability to get hold of me.

"What do you want from me?" I said to the wide, lonely world around me. "I need the truth."

Silence was the only answer I got.

Giving up, I made my way across the unplanted field, but as I reached the line of trees that would take me back to Le Ciel, I heard the dark chuckling again, right up close to my ear.

You make it sound like the truth is an easy thing, the voice that sounded so much like my momma told me. Like it's a fruit you can pluck off a tree, whole and sweet for you and you alone.

I stopped, waited with my heart in my throat.

A wind rushed through the trees, brushing against my legs and arms, turning my sweat-damp clothes almost icy in its wake.

Truth is something that lies buried. Like a body in a grave. You want the truth, baby girl? You're gonna have to dig.

Five.

As I made my way up the gravel path to the Aimes' house, Lucy's slim figure appeared as a silhouette in the wood-framed screen door. By the time I'd made it to the steps of the porch, she'd stepped outside, and a second, taller and broader figure had joined her. Piers.

At first I was startled to see him, but then I thought of the frantic texts. Of course Piers would be waiting.

He sure didn't look happy to see me, though. Actually, neither of them did. Their faces were matching masks of frustration and concern, and they didn't make any move to greet me. At first they both just stood there, side by side, at the top of the steps, dual sentries blocking my way.

Piers moved to meet me first. "Where have you been?" he asked, his arms still crossed against me, his face not registering any emotion but frustration.

"I had a hard time sleeping, so I took a walk," I told him, ready to explain everything. I needed to talk through what had happened out at Thisbe's cabin, because I still didn't know what to make of it all, but before I could say anything he was talking.

"You took a walk?" he said, his brows rising in mocking disbelief.

I'd known he was upset, but the anger in his tone had me taking a step back. "I lost track of time," I told him, knowing exactly how weak that excuse sounded. But with Piers looking at me like thatwith more irritation than worryI suddenly wasn't sure how to even begin explaining everything else. He was already looking at me like he didn't trust me.

"Why didn't you answer our texts or calls?" Lucy asked from her vantage point a few steps above us. Her voice didn't have the demand in it that Piers's did, but I could tell she was upset.

"I must have lost service," I told her, holding up my phone and waving it a little. "My phone never even buzzed until a couple of minutes ago, and I got all your messages at once. By then I was already on my way back."

Piers looked doubtful, like he'd already decided not to hear me out, but Lucy studied me with those ageless eyes of hers. I couldn't quite tell what she was thinking.

"You disappeared, Chloe," Lucy said, an unspoken question in her tone. "You didn't leave a note or tell anyone where you went. And you've been gone for hours."

"I ... " It was harder than I thought it would be to start. My throat was still tender from the grip of the icy fingers, and the weight of everything that had happened out there in that cabin pressed down on me so I felt like I couldn't even breathe.

Something out there had spoken to me. Something had offered me a choiceor maybe it had issued a threat. Either way, I didn't know what that meant about the danger any of us might still be in. Or the danger I might be to them.

"We were worried about you," Lucy told me, and I knew from the way she spoke, she wasn't really mad. Scared, maybe, but not mad.

Piers didn't say anything, though. Just kept taking me in with wary, watchful eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said, finally forcing out the words I knew he wanted from me.

Piers relaxed his shoulders a little, but he still didn't uncross his arms. It was like he was waiting for me to explain completely before he'd open himself back up.

But conditional love ain't no kind of love at all, and his closed-up expression made me feel all kinds of empty inside. It also made me hesitate, because I didn't know how to explain where I'd been or what had happened without that frustrated look changing to something else.

We stood there in uneasy silence, Piers waiting for me to explain myself and me not knowing how. Lucy's eyes darted between us as she retreated back up the steps. "I'm going to go in and grab my things. Let me know when you're ready to go," she said before she slipped through the door. I could tell she was trying to give us some privacy to sort things out.

When she was gone and we were finally alone, Piers let out an impatient sigh. "Come on, baby. Just tell me where you went so we can get on with things."

The way he asked, without any warmth at all and like he had a right to demand, made something inside me want to lash out. "I told you. I went for a walk," I said. But I still hadn't calmed all the way down, and there was more attitude than I meant in my tone.

"Chloe, it's almost noon. Lucy said she's been up since around nine, and you were already gone by then."

I glanced away, pushing down the panic that inched along my spine as I thought about the hours I'd lost out at that cabin.

"You didn't try to go back home, did you?" he asked, his brow furrowed like he was watching for a lie.

"Home?" It hadn't even occurred to me to walk back to my own house. True, it was only a couple miles west of Le Ciel and an easy enough stroll if you had the time, but after the rooster, it certainly didn't feel like no kind of home anymore. "I wouldn't try to go back there. Especially not on my own."

"Then where were you?" he pressed, not giving an inch.

When Piers meets any kind of a problem, he attacks it with a kind of single-minded attention. I'd seen him do it a hundred times before when he was reading over some study or trying to make headway on a project for school, but right at that moment, he was looking at me like that. I didn't like that feeling one bit, but I knew he wasn't going to let go of this. And I didn't really have anything to hide.

"I went out to Thisbe's cabin," I told him.

"You what?" Disbelief and fury flashed in his eyes. "Why the hell would you go there?"

I winced at his tone. "I don't think I meant to go at first," I said, trying to explain. "But when I started walking, that's where I ended up."

The scowl on his deepened at what I'd admitted. "You didn't go inside, did you?"

"Of course I went inside."