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at once.

Miles and I found ourselves in a well-appointed office with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and antique furniture. Chloe, a middle-aged woman wearing a barrage of costume jewelry, sat at a table before a spread of tarot cards. Cassandra stood in front of her. She was fully dressed, her arms crossed in defiance. My throat hitched at the sight of my friend, how alive and strong she appeared. Some part of me must have sensed the coming separation, our future breach already growing like a crack on an iced-over lake.

“You’re not listening. My markings indicate I’ll get into medical school,” Cassandra was telling Chloe. “Julia said so, and she’s a much better interpreter than you’ll ever be.”

Chloe blinked. She wore so much eye makeup I could see clumps of mascara even from my position at the door. Her face appeared lined and worn, exhausted.

“This is ridiculous,” Cassandra went on. She smacked her hand against Chloe’s table. “Are you even listening? You’re wrong, and I want my money back.” Her voice broke, and she turned to face Miles and me. “Will one of you please tell her what Julia said—that I’ll get into medical school and become a doctor. It’s fated. It is. Tell her.”

Miles held up his hands. “Cassie, please calm down.”

“Would someone like a reading?” Chloe asked. She was staring, crestfallen, at the table before her. One by one, she slid off her clunky rings and left them glittering against the velvet tablecloth. “I offer tarot, crystal ball, palm. Love, happiness, financial success.” Her last few words ran together like smeared ink.

“This is a waste of time.” Cassandra headed for the door. “I’m going back to Julia’s. At least she knows what she’s talking about.”

“We’re right behind you,” Miles called after her, but I couldn’t move. I stared at Chloe.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked. My tone was not unkind.

Chloe wouldn’t meet my eyes. She was deflated, undone. She stroked the table in front of her as though petting an imaginary animal. Her fingers trembled. I noticed every last detail, my high lucidity alerting me to a threat. Chloe was guilty. She was a criminal. She was not working in service of girls.

“When I was a child,” she began, “my markings suggested I could be something real. A lawyer, maybe.”

“We need to check on Cassie,” Miles said in a low voice.

I brushed him off. I didn’t turn around even when I heard Angel enter the room and ask us to leave. I kept my focus on Chloe. That empty teacup waiting by her side. Her rings in disarray all around her. I could have snatched one up and taken it away with me. I was sure of it.

“What have you become instead?” I asked her. I felt sleepy but careful. Whatever had been in my tea made me unsteady but also, miraculously, confident. I was on a balance beam. I was walking a tightrope. I was leaning over the edge to face great danger.

“This is unacceptable,” Angel said behind me. “Chloe, do something.”

Chloe raised her eyes. “You know what I am.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “It’s too late for me. This is who I’ve become.”

“You two need to leave,” Angel said to Miles and me. “Now.” She walked over to Chloe and stood close to her, as if she needed protection. Chloe blinked. With a vacant smile, she reached up to stroke Angel’s hair in a loving, distracted kind of way.

“Come on,” Miles said from behind me. He took my wrist and pulled me away, dragging me back to the waiting room. That was when I remembered Cassandra.

“She’s not here.” I ignored the handful of waiting customers who watched me with concerned expressions.

“She went back to Julia’s,” Miles said. “Hurry.”

We were out the door, the chimes rioting behind us. The street was bright and full of tourists. It would be no risk for Cassandra to cross the street and make it into Julia’s townhouse. She had to be there right now. She could already be safe.

“Celeste, wait.” Miles steered me away. “We need to check something before we go to Julia’s.”

This seemed odd, but I felt so cloudy and tired I didn’t question him. He took my hand and I let him. He was my brother, my halfway twin.

Miles made a sharp left turn and pulled me into an alley. I stumbled against the rough brick wall, and it took me half a second to realize he had pushed me there.

“Are we hiding from someone?” My tongue felt thick. He must have known something I didn’t. Maybe Chloe had sent men after us. Maybe I was in danger.

“Shhh.” Miles put his hands on the hem of my shirt and started to lift it. I squirmed away, confused, but he held me tighter. He pushed me against the wall, his body pinning me in place.

“Stay calm,” he said. “And keep still. This will only take a minute.”

I slapped at his hand, but he already had my shirt halfway up. He was reaching for my left side.

“Please,” he said as I struggled against him. “Those photographs aren’t good enough. I need to see your markings in person.”

I was shivering and furious and terrified, but I felt too compromised to stop him. I tried to slap him again, but it was like a slow-motion dream where fighting was impossible.

“You can’t imagine what it’s like having this gift no one believes in,” he said. “I see things no one else does. If I were a woman, I’d be a revolutionary, but because I’m a boy, I’ll never be heard.”

He ran his fingers over the markings on my stomach. Just enough light from the street entered the alley to allow him to make out my predictions. It was a frantic reading, so fast and heated I couldn’t imagine he was gaining any real insight. It was more like he was staking his claim, reminding me that the future wasn’t wholly my own.

“One day you’ll understand that I’m doing this for you,” he

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