"Honestly? I haven't decided yet. The Ghostlands . . . and then there's your father . . ."

" . . . Who can't know and wouldn't believe it even if he did."

They were buzzed into the building's pale green hall and ascended a flight of stairs that seemed to curve up forever. By the time they'd reached the top landing and a door as green as wood moss, Jane's doubts had reasserted themselves; she turned to Finn. "Are you sure-"

"Jane, Leander Cyrus, a Jack, loved Lily. He bleeds and has a pulse. That's how I know my sister's alive, not just because of the bracelet from Moth or what Moth has said." Or because of Seth Lot's terrifying challenge. "Would it ease your conscience if I told you I'd find a way into the Ghostlands no matter what any of you say?"

They heard the downstairs door slam. As familiar voices echoed up to them, Jane rapped on the green door.

Sylvie and Christie appeared on the stairs, followed by Jack, who moved to Finn. His gaze was dark. "Are you ready?"

She nodded.

Christie was looking around. "Have you ever seen Rosemary's Baby, Miss Emory?"

As Jane regarded Christie with fond exasperation, the door opened and Rowan Cruithnear, dressed as usual in a suit finer than any college dean should be able to afford, greeted each of them before leading them into an apartment that was as Spartan and elegant as he was. There were neat bookshelves everywhere, little bonsai trees on the sills, and furniture that seemed a hybrid of Ikea and ancient Rome.

Sophia Avaline was seated on the sofa, legs crossed, black hair in a knot. Mr. Wyatt crouched near the fireplace while Professor Fairchild leaned beside a window, an open book in one hand-even out of class, Fairchild looked like an eighteenth-century poet. Miss Perangelo stood beside him. Hobson, the red-bearded math professor, was pouring coffee into several china cups on a tray.

"Serafina." Sophia Avaline gestured to an unoccupied love seat and Finn sat with her friends as Jack settled in the chair beside them. Avaline continued, "Tell us."

Jack's fingers twined with Finn's as Finn spoke with quiet savagery. "I thought my sister, Lily Rose, had killed herself. She didn't. Her boyfriend was a Jack who served a Fata named Seth Lot. Seth Lot took her. He's given me seven days to come find her in the Ghostlands. Or he'll kill her. I need to get into the Ghostlands."

"Madadh aillaid." Mr. Wyatt, a neutral figure Finn didn't quite trust, seemed shocked. "Do you have any witnesses, Miss Sullivan? That the Wolf would be here . . ."

"The witness is on his way," Jack said. "Phouka Banrion is bringing him."

Sophia Avaline had become coolly angry. "Do you realize what you're asking us to do? You're asking us to allow you, with this damaged young man-my apologies, Jack-to enter a place most people only glimpse through drugs or a psychotic break from reality. The Taibhse na Tir."

That breathy, alien word seemed to convey all sorts of unpleasant possibilities, and Finn felt goose bumps break out over her skin. Being here, speaking to adults who knew about the Fatas . . . this made what she was about to do a cold reality. For one horrifying moment, she thought she might blurt out that she couldn't go.

Then Jack said, in that calm voice that always made her brave, "I believe Finn's entire time in Fair Hollow has been a psychotic break from reality."

"Thank you," Christie said.

"I'm sorry"-Finn looked soulfully at Christie and Sylvie-"about all of this."

"You're sorry?" Sylvie leaned forward. "For opening our eyes? Who knows what might have happened if we didn't know about-"

The door buzzer went off. Rowan Cruithnear walked out of the room and returned a few moments later-to a profound silence-with Phouka and Moth. Phouka, radiating casual regality, said, "Has the tribunal begun without us?"

"Madame." Rowan Cruithnear inclined his head. "Could you introduce your companion?"

"This is Moth, one of Seth Lot's victims."

"Not a victim." Moth pulled back his hood. "An accomplice, once, before I knew there was a world beyond the Wolf's."

Professor Fairchild, intrigued, asked, "What changed your mind? About the Wolf?"

"I don't remember much more than scattered things, horrors. In Seth Lot's house, a girl named Lily Rose befriended me, helped me escape, and sent me to watch over her sister. I . . . remember the inside of that house. That I remember."

"When was your sister taken?" As Miss Perangelo spoke to Finn, she watched Moth.

"It doesn't matter. She's alive." Finn hated that her voice shook.

"We aren't prepared to deal with other Fatas," Professor Fairchild murmured, "outside of Reiko's court. And the Wolf-"

"Are you kidding?" Christie glared around the room. "Angyll Weaver was murdered by one of Reiko's monsters. So was Nathan Clare. What does it take to activate you people?"

"First of all," Mr. Wyatt said in his casual baritone, "we're not Transformers, so there's no activating us. Second"-he looked around at his fellow teachers-"you're not seriously considering allowing this child into the Ghostlands? With two unreliable Fata creatures?"

Jack said, his voice low, "Seth Lot and his pack made a surprise appearance at Hester Kierney's party. He's going to begin ripping through Fair Hollow unless Finn and I come after him in the Ghostlands. Are you prepared to deal with it now?"

Avaline glanced at Phouka. "Why didn't you tell us Seth Lot was here?"

Phouka's eyes mirrored the lamplight. "Why worry you? It's not as if you're of much use anyway."

"We can't fight Seth Lot." Rowan Cruithnear straightened, his demeanor stony. "Not here. There is only controlling the damage he does."

"There's also Caliban." Jack's pronouncement was met with uneasy silence.

Professor Avaline once again addressed Phouka. "I thought your kind had that situation under control?"

Phouka's demeanor matched Sophia Avaline's in coolness. "The crom cu returned to his master. Like you, I cannot afford to declare war on the Wolf. Finn Sullivan has no choice but to go to the Ghostlands and you've no choice but to let her. The Wolf has taken all choice from us. Here, she will die and so will others. Here, there's only so many ways we can protect her. As you say, we would only be controlling the damage."

"What we are doing is sacrificing her, yet again." Sophia Avaline's anger was startling. "For convenience, this time. And we can't follow her into the Ghostlands with kitchen knives and handguns. She'll only have Jack and those Fatas allied with Phouka Fata-I'm sorry . . . Phouka Banrion."

Phouka's silver eyes narrowed. "It's always been Banrion. And the moment the Wolf took Lily Rose Sullivan, Serafina's fate was sealed. She'll have to journey into the Ghostlands now, where there will be options that are not available here."

"She's a child," Avaline said. Jane remained silent, Finn noticed.

Rowan Cruithnear moved to the center of the room. "We are straying from the topic of this meeting, which is to decide if we give Finn Sullivan half of a key that will take her into the Ghostlands."

Finn sat very still, not daring to speak, afraid any wrong word would tilt the balance out of her favor.

"Yes." Jane's voice was anguished. "Because I know she will not give up."

"No." Mr. Wyatt folded his arms. "I vote 'no.'"

Miss Perangelo frowned. "No."

"Of course yes." Professor Fairchild looked at Miss Perangelo. "Blood calls to blood. She must bring her sister home."

Professor Hobson glared at Wyatt and Perangelo. His red hair was almost bristling. It seemed he was about to say yes, when his shoulders slumped. "No-I can't send a child there."

It was Sophia Avaline's turn. "We've never entered the Ghostlands. With a few exceptions-such as Rowan-adults can't. The Way never opens for us. But we've had to deal with the young people who've returned from there, and we've had to put them back together again. So I say no."

Finn looked pleadingly at Rowan Cruithnear, who bowed his head. "Serafina, if this is a trap set by the Wolf, I am condemning you."

"If you say no," Finn managed past the ache in her throat, "you're condemning my sister. You're thinking it's too late, she's been with that monster for a year, that she's lost. But Lily is strong. She'll keep herself . . . somewhere. The way Reiko removed her own heart and put it in a box, my sister will hide her soul so that the Wolf doesn't get it. I can't leave here there."

"May I speak?" Jack's voice sliced the resulting silence like a finely honed blade. "I don't want this for Finn. But she is not a child, and she doesn't belong to me or any of you. And she has made this decision because it is the only one true to her heart. If you had any genuine affection or concern for her, you'd allow her to do this."

Wyatt muttered, "Fatas and their damn warrior ethic."

As Sylvie gripped one of Finn's hands and Christie glanced at Jack with sober respect, Finn felt as if a brilliant sun warmed her through.

Rowan Cruithnear regarded the other professors and the years seemed to age him. "I am sorry, Miss Sullivan. We cannot, in good conscience, allow you into the Ghostlands. If the Wolf comes for the children of Fair Hollow, we'll deal with him."

FINN FELT AS IF she was losing Lily all over again. Too broken to speak to Jack, Christie, or Sylvie, she asked Jane to drive her home.

In her room, in the dark, she curled on her bed and reached for her sister's journal. She skimmed through it using the flashlight app on her phone, until she came to the passage she remembered: The Madadh aillaid, the Wolf king. I should never have let him kiss my wrist and leave that mark. I've let him into my world now. Finn remembered Seth Lot in Golden Gate Park, a young man with wolf-blue eyes-even then, he'd had them in his sights.

She heard the doorbell ring, then her father's voice and a woman's.

Moments later, there was a knock at her bedroom door. She called out and her da stuck his head in. "Jane's here, Finn. She needs to talk to you. About the argument you two had earlier-you argued?"

Jane stepped into the room and switched on the lamp near the door. She held out a small box of black velvet. "I brought you a gift."

"I'll leave you two to talk then?"

"Yes, Da, thank you. I'd like to speak to Miss-Jane-alone."

He began to close the door. "Don't stay angry at each other." Then he was gone.

Finn hadn't taken her gaze from the box in Jane's hand. She whispered, "What is it?"

Jane walked over, sat on the end of Finn's bed, and opened the box. Finn stared at a spiral of silver with a silver skull in the center. "Is that-"

"Yes. Rowan didn't want to give it to you in front of the others, because he suspects one of them of being a traitor. Rowan has . . . let's call it a medieval psyche. He believes in honor and sacrifice and all those other philosophies. And then there's this, what he found fluttering on his desk." Jane took a box of transparent plastic from her purse. The box had airholes, and flickering inside of it was a monarch butterfly the color of daisies.

"I don't understand."

"Look closely at the black markings on the wings."

Finn squinted and thought she was seeing things; scrawled blackly across the orange wings, repeatedly, were the words: Lily Rose is alive.

"Who sent it?" she whispered, awestruck.

"Well, there's no signature, but we couldn't ignore it even if it's a trick. If there's even a possibility your sister is . . . well, we can't abandon her."

Finn carefully took possession of the second half of the Ghostlands key. "Dean Cruithnear thinks one of the professors works for Seth Lot?"

"Let's just say that certain things have occurred to make Rowan believe one of the others is serving the interests of the unknown."

"What about you? Why does he trust you?"

"Well, I'm sort of his great-and-then-some granddaughter."

Finn kicked back the covers. "I knew he was older than he looked! Was he cursed, like the Black Scissors?"

"Sort of. Only it wasn't supposed to be a curse. That's a story for another time. Now, you'll be going to Lulu's tonight, with Jack and Moth, to leave for . . . that place."

"Lulu's Emporium?"

In a small voice, Jane said, "What will I do if you don't come back? I don't think I could . . ."

Finn was not the hugging type, but she got on her knees and slid her arms around the woman. "Thank you, Jane. Thank you."

"You can thank me"-Jane hugged her back-"by returning with your sister. You and Jack will be going to Rowan Cruithnear's house in the Ghostlands, where Rowan can protect you and prepare you. He can provide you with guides and guards and a witch who will lead you to the Wolf's house. He can't come with you right now, because he thinks it'll lead Seth Lot to you."

Finn sat back. "When I return, Phouka said no time will have passed."

"Not if you do it right. Finn . . . what will I tell your father if something happens to you?"

"I'll be back before he realizes I'm gone. And nothing will happen to me."

BY ELEVEN O'CLOCK, Finn was ready. She'd packed a leather backpack with Eve Avaline's silver dagger, Slim Jims, apples, three cans of espresso, two bottles of iced water, and a gift for Jack. She was dressed for travel in boot-cut jeans and a black sweater, her red coat, and Doc Martens.

As she slid a good-bye letter to her da beneath her pillow-just in case-she looked around the room and said to her ghost, "If I don't come back, make sure he gets that."

A flash from the antique Leica camera on her desk made her flinch. She slowly walked toward it. The camera clicked and flashed again.

"Okay." She grabbed the camera and shoved it into her backpack. As she did so, she heard a clatter and turned to see that the first photograph she'd taken of her and Jack in the sunlight had fallen to the floor. She bent down and picked it up. The glass over the photo hadn't even cracked. She traced Jack's image. He watched every sunrise, every sunset, and lingered at each as he hadn't been able to before-as if expecting that fragile humanity he'd stubbornly longed for to vanish at any moment. She glanced at her sister's journal on a nearby table. Lily had always been there for her after their mom died. Lily had championed Finn, encouraged her, and enraged her. And then Lily had abandoned her.

Finn pushed her hands through her hair as the anguished realization that she was choosing Lily's welfare over Jack's overwhelmed her.

Then Jack was knocking at the glass doors.

She stood, walked to them, and opened them. Dressed in a Victorian greatcoat of black suede, his hair tied back, he looked like some kind of nineteenth-century assassin. He had a backpack flung over one shoulder. "Ready?"

"Very." She slid her own small backpack on and smiled to prove she wasn't scared.

As they strode to Jack's sedan at the curb, Jack said, "Phouka and Cruithnear conspired on this. Phouka and Moth will meet us at Christopher's. Sylvie's there too-you'd best call her and tell her we're on our way."

AS FINN GOT OUT OF JACK'S SEDAN in front of Christie's house, Sylvie ran down, threw her arms around her, and whispered, "I knew the HallowHeart professors would come through."

"It was Cruithnear and Jane Emory, actually."

Christie sauntered up, hands in his coat pockets, his dark red curls sticking out from his knit hat. He said, "So you're going."

"You," Finn said steadily, "are the best friends I've ever had."

"I suppose he'll protect you, being a killer and all." Christie meant Jack. His voice was stripped raw. "Just don't forget where you belong. No matter what that place is like-and I'm imagining some seriously messed-up American McGee version of Disneyland-it isn't your world. This is."

"Okay, Christie."

"Take this." Christie took a small book from his back pocket. "Famous poems. Words are weapons against them."