And there it is, over her left wing.
A red heart.
With an outline of the diamond inside.
“Whoa,” Twig says. “Selah, come see this.”
He must have found it.
The comet.
But I can’t look away from the book, because I’ve found something, too.
“Selah?”
I look up.
He’s no longer peering through the viewfinder of his telescope. He’s staring at me.
I scramble to my knees and thrust the book at him. When he doesn’t take it, I point at the black flame. “The onyx.”
I point at the white iris. “The pearl.”
I point at the diamond inside the heart. “And the ruby.”
“The gemstones,” he whispers.
We stare at one another for a disbelieving moment.
“Twig … is this what Rafe’s after? Do you think—are there actual powers tied to these gemstones?”
My mind reels.
Rafe thought he had them. But then he caught Isabel wearing the ruby and threw a bonafide temper tantrum. The question is, why did he hide them in the well? If he thought he already had the gemstones, what was he waiting for?
I stare at the book with the symbol of the curse on the cover. And inside, the origin story of Dante’s comet, which returns every two-hundred-sixty-eight years.
Ezra Vandenberg witnessed it the last time.
Then he painted me, a girl who wouldn’t exist until that same comet returned again.
The puzzle pieces swirl.
Closer and closer.
They have to be related.
38
A NOT SO EMPTY THREAT
The marching band rehearses in bursts of music. Snare drums and tenors rattle out a commanding tempo as the fog lifts and golden sunlight spills over the meandering line of floats in the high school parking lot. Silver pompoms sparkle as cheerleaders run through a routine.
I lace up my boots, Mercy Bogaard once again, my insides a tangle of emotion as more parade participants arrive. Sports teams. Civic groups. Local performers. My personal favorite? A mime troupe. But not even their charming absurdity distracts me this morning.
My attention keeps returning to the spot where the Cadillac should be—long and black with sweeping fenders. More relic than vehicle, unearthed from the estate’s motor house.
Behind the empty space, Sterling Bogaard sits atop the backseat of a red thunderbird convertible, joined by his great grandmother, Opal, an old woman who looks to be pushing a hundred. A 1948 Chrysler Town and Country is parked behind them, to be driven by Carl, who will be escorting Marvin Doorn, the out-of-town professor.
