My destiny. Whether that meant burning Wayne Hastings’s house to the ground or turning myself in, somehow I’d save them.

“He has a cellar,” I said. “He keeps it padlocked and covered with branches. If he’s hiding something, it’s there.”

“Oh God,” Sofía said, rubbing her head. “We’re going to break into it, aren’t we?”

“I am,” I said. “It’s up to you what you do.”

“Good thinking, Fran,” Arthur said. “The cellar. I should’ve thought of it.”

Sofía took a deep breath. “If we don’t find what we need, we have to call in the big guns.”

“Like tomorrow,” Nick said.

“Agreed,” Levi said.

Remy’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. I nodded, despite the anxiety piercing through me. “Tomorrow.”

This was our last chance.

TWENTY-TWO

WE DECIDED WE COULDN’T all go.

Most nights Wayne Hastings drove off in his old Ford truck in the dead of night for an hour or so, and if he was gone when we got there, we’d have free rein to search, so long as we had a lookout who could warn us when he was returning.

“And if we get there and he’s home,” Sofía added, “we’ll want to be ready to follow him if he takes off. Wherever he’s going, there could be more evidence.”

“You can take my car,” Remy said. “I’m going to the cellar.” I was surprised Sofía seemed poised to argue that she also wanted to be a part of our crime spree, but Remy said quickly, “You’re the only person I trust to drive my car. Please.”

“Wow,” Nick said. “Rude.”

“But you have to respect his honesty!” Levi said.

And so when we got to our house on Old Crow Station Lane, Sofía, Levi, and Nick stayed in the Metro to stake out the end of Wayne Hastings’s driveway, while Remy, Art, and I got out to search his property.

“We should take Droog,” Arthur said as we headed across the field. “She hasn’t gotten out much since all of this started.”

“Are you kidding?” I said. “If he catches us, he’ll shoot her without hesitation. No way. I’ll take her out to pee before we go, but I’m not bringing her with.”

“He won’t actually shoot us,” Remy said, following us inside. Droog popped up from where she’d been sleeping on the rug inside the door, her tail thunking the wall. “Right?”

“Are you asking me to guess?” Arthur replied.

From upstairs, the dreary murmur of baseball commentary was leaking from the master bedroom.

Dad was already asleep, or nearly there. Good. That was good. The last thing he needed was to find out about all this.

“You live next to the guy,” Remy said.

“Yeah, and do everything I can to pretend he doesn’t exist.” Arthur clipped the leash onto Droog’s collar and then handed it to me.

“Is he really nocturnal?” Remy asked. “I mean, if this doesn’t work out tonight, we can go back in the morning.”

“I work,” I said. “So does Arthur.”

“And Nick,” Arthur said. “Not that he’s been much help.”

As soon as we were out the door, Droog pulled me around the house to where she could see the woods. Usually, we just let her out and she did her business unsupervised, but all week she’d been like this. “See?” Arthur said. “She wants to go on our mission.”

“Too bad.” I yanked her back. “This is basically the one thing on the planet I’m responsible for, and I’m not letting her get skinned and hung on a tree with a pentagram carved into it.”

“What’s that?” Remy said, and bent to brush the fur on Droog’s haunch to one side, revealing the purple web of scars. “She got hit too?”

I nodded. Somehow, she managed to keep straining as she crouched and peed, her nose sniffing wildly in the direction of Wayne Hastings’s forest.

Remy shook his head. “Do you think she has an impulse too? Like Levi’s sleepwalking? That the . . . alien”—it was clearly a challenge for him to even use the word—“put something in her too?”

Arthur scoffed. “Right, now even the dog is getting a superpower. Of course.”

“Dude,” Remy said. “Will you stop acting like this isn’t the worst thing to happen to any of us?”

“Maybe for you,” Arthur said coldly. He jerked the leash from my hand and pulled Droog back to the house. “Get the bolt cutters from the shed, Fran.”

Remy made a pained expression as his eyes flicked toward me. “I didn’t mean to . . . I just meant that this isn’t a gift.”

“I know,” I said, opening the shed.

I’d been feeling nauseated and crampy ever since we left the Jenkins House, and now as I scanned the crowded shelves for the bolt cutters, a searing pain shot from my skull down to my tailbone, knocking me off balance.

“Franny?” Remy stepped in close, and I grabbed his arm to steady myself as dizziness and pain pummeled me. The white unfurled across my vision, and for a second, I was falling through darkness again, light screaming past me. “What’s happening? Are you all right?”