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Evie shut her eyes and concentrated. A tiny sliver of electricity worked its way up her arm. It tickled like ants, an unpleasant sensation, and Evie tried to breathe through the worry about what might happen if her power and Theta’s didn’t get along. She hoped that Theta couldn’t sense that worry. In a few seconds, the prickling became a surge of energy, as if someone had plugged Evie in to the same electrical socket as Theta, and now their combined wattage was glowing brighter. She could feel Theta’s strong heartbeat like her own. With her friend at her side, Evie went deeper, searching for anything about one of the Shadow Men she’d glimpsed. Nothing. Just Sam’s memories fighting to get through. What were the limits of memory?
But then, there it was—a small flicker into the Shadow Man who had taken Sam! Adams was the man’s name, and the wickedness of his soul was terrifying. This was a man who had killed many times. He said it was out of duty, out of patriotism, but really, he enjoyed it. Power was what moved this man, and this was the man who had Sam. Evie gritted her teeth, going deeper still, grasping for something just out of reach. For just a moment while the Shadow Man held Sam, he was thinking of a place. A destination, perhaps? The contact between Sam’s hat and the Shadow Man had been brief. Evie would have to fight to get more, even if it meant a real skullbanger of a headache afterward. Tall trees. A winding drive. And nestled into the thicket, a sprawling manor that Evie recognized. It was a hot day. Strangely hot. A trickle of sweat slipped down Evie’s neck as she pushed for more details. Somewhere in the trance of it all, she felt Theta’s heartbeat speed up and sensed her panic.
“Jeepers!” Theta yelped, breaking the connection.
Evie’s earlier heat was replaced by a sudden cold. She came out of her trance to see an alarmed Theta waving smoke away from Sam’s hat. “Oh, Jiminy Christmas!”
“It’s out, Theta! It’s fine!” The smell of smoke lingered. That could have been my hands, Evie thought.
“Good thing I wasn’t holding on to you,” Theta said, trying to make a joke out of it.
“It would’ve been a waste of a good manicure,” Evie offered. Already, a headache was creeping its way up the back of her neck, threatening to settle behind her eyes, and her stomach churned. That was the price to pay for a deep read.
Theta steadied her. “Easy, champ.” She went to the kitchen and fetched Evie a glass of water and two aspirin. After a few sips, Evie’s stomach began to settle, though her head still throbbed.
“So? Anything?” Theta asked. Her adopted cat, Archibald, meowed and hopped up onto the bed. Theta stroked his marmalade-colored fur.
“One of the Shadow Men was thinking about Jake Marlowe’s estate,” Evie said, rubbing her temples. “Now, why would he be doing that?”
“You think those fellas took Sam to Hopeful Harbor?”
“I don’t know. But it’s the only real clue I’ve gotten. Do you remember when we visited? Jericho told us he saw two men carrying away a missing Diviner, Anna Provenza. He was going to try to find out more.”
“Have you, uh, heard from Jericho at all?” Theta prodded.
“No,” Evie said. “Not since… what happened.” Add that one to the losses.
“I never figured him to be that kind of fella. I guess you just never know.”
The front door opened. A jaunty humming came from the other room and Theta called out, “In here, Henry!” which did nothing to help Evie’s headache.
Henry DuBois IV danced in like John Barrymore. He was still wearing what was clearly last night’s outfit. In the morning light, he was pale and freckly, his sandy hair sticking up at odd angles along the crown when he removed his ever-present boater hat. Henry was such a contrast to Theta’s smoldering looks—soulful dark eyes, enormous high cheekbones, shoeshine-black hair cut into a Shingle bob—that it struck Evie as comical that anyone had ever believed the story that the two of them were brother and sister. But, as Theta had often said, people could be pretty gullible.
“Don’t tell me: You’re starting a coven.” Henry yawned, crawling into bed next to the two girls. “Awfully early for witching hour. And what’s that smell? Are you burning toast?”
“It’s nothing. Have you even been to bed yet?” Theta asked. She sniffed him. “You smell like a moonshiner’s bathtub.”
Henry blew a puff of breath into his palm and sniffed it. “Well, you see, there was a second party after the first party, and…” He looked down at his bare neck. “Oh, applesauce. I lost my ascot. Well, it wasn’t actually my ascot. Anyway, David and I managed about two hours.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Odd dreams.”
“Me, too,” Evie said. “Can you remember yours?”
Henry shook his head. “You both have on awfully serious faces for”—he squinted at the clock—“nine twenty-three in the morning. You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever even seen nine twenty-three in the morning. Now that I have, I can say with certainty that it looks… early.”
“Why are you back so early?” Evie asked.
“David’s mother was coming for breakfast, so I thought I’d best make myself scarce.”
Theta frowned. “I still haven’t heard from Memphis. He didn’t call last night, and no call this morning. He’s always up early. All this Shadow Men talk has got me spooked now.” Theta hugged her knees to her chest. “Evil thinks she mighta found where those creepy Shadow Men took Sam.”
“I’m guessing it wasn’t the Whoop-Dee-Do Club,” Henry said. He kissed the top of Archie’s fuzzy head and the cat purred in response.
“I believe they took him to Jake Marlowe’s estate,” Evie said. “Hen, hand me my stockings, will you?”
Dutifully, Henry lifted the silk stockings from the footboard and offered them to Evie as if she were the Queen of England. Evie swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She rolled one stocking up to her knee and secured it with a garter.
“Where’re you going with all that pep in your step?” Henry asked.
“Hopeful Harbor, of course,” Evie answered.
