“What’s the matter?” Emily cried. Aurelia appeared to be in agony. Her yelps became even louder, and she thrashed violently. “Okay, okay, okay.” Emily ran over and grabbed her by the arms. “Tell me, Aurelia. Tell me what’s going on.” It was hard to keep hold of her; she kept twisting away. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

Slowly, Emily became aware of an intermittent buzzing. Aurelia was pulling and tearing at her clothes … was there a bee trapped in her dress?

“Okay. Hold still.” Aurelia was wearing one of her long smock dresses; the insect could’ve been anywhere in the folds. Emily grabbed at the material and tried to lift it up and over Aurelia’s head, but the kid kept wriggling out of her grasp. “Hold still!” she said again, but Aurelia whipped away from her, and they both spun out into the middle of the patio. “Aurelia! Stop, I have to—”

Aurelia began to shake, and Emily made a snap decision. She yanked at the dress, ripping the seam at the side and splitting it all the way to the hem. Tugging the dress off, she threw it down and stamped on it just to be sure, then she gathered up the material and shook it. Eventually, the crooked corpse of a wasp fell to the floor.

Checking Aurelia over, she found dozens of angry red welts all over her back, stomach, and rib cage. “Oh my god.” How many wasp stings could a person handle? “Can you breathe?” Aurelia’s breath was coming too thick and too fast, but it was coming. “Open your mouth, sweetie.” Neither her throat nor her tongue appeared to be swollen, and rather than turning purple, her face seemed to be very gradually returning to its normal color. No allergic reaction, then, but some serious pain.

“Hang on, I’ll be right back.” Emily ran inside to the kitchen and ran her hands over the cabinetry, grimacing at the weird musty smell that was still hanging around. She opened and closed low-level cupboards and drawers in search of a glass or a cup, but there seemed to be nothing useful in any of them, just ornaments and decorative bowls—where did Nina keep all the practical stuff? Finally, she discovered a gigantic butler’s pantry tucked away behind the back wall. Inside, she found row after gleaming row of glasses, mugs, plates, pots, pans, utensils: everything you could possibly expect to find in a kitchen, plus a few things you wouldn’t. Everything looked brand-new.

Filling a glass with water from the tap, she pulled an ice tray from the freezer and wrapped a few cubes in a tea towel. Then she ran back outside, where she gave Aurelia the water and pressed the ice to her welts. Antihistamine. That’s what they needed. Nina would almost certainly have some in that medicine cabinet of hers.

It was only then that Emily realized that Aurelia was sitting, almost completely naked, right in the full glare of the sun.

She reacted instinctively, hooking her hands under Aurelia’s arms and dragging her backward into the shade.

Emily stared, waiting for something terrible to happen.

But nothing did.

When the flagstones became too uncomfortable, Emily suggested to Aurelia that she go inside to lie down. She turned to go, intending to find Nina. (Where was she, anyway? She couldn’t be too far away, hadn’t she heard all the shouting?) But when Aurelia took her hand and pulled her gently through the door, through the kitchen and down the hallway, Emily followed, curiosity once again getting the better of her.

The hallway was as bright and white as the landing upstairs. She peeked through half-open doors and saw what looked like formal dining, laundry, and powder rooms, all exquisitely furnished. The very last door, the door through which Aurelia was tugging her, opened on a gigantic TV and playroom; actually, private cinema was closer to the truth. The screen mounted on the wall was the biggest Emily had ever seen outside of a movie theater. On the opposite wall, shelves groaned under the weight of textbooks, storybooks, encyclopedias, CDs, and DVDs. Against another wall, neat squares of floating storage units reached for the ceiling, bursting with toys and games. The remaining wall space was filled with hundreds of framed paintings and drawings, all with Aurelia’s name printed neatly across the top.

There was a teepee in one corner and an easel in another. An enormous doll’s house stood next to a miniature kitchen, and a large box spilled costumes onto the floor. The ceiling was strung with bunting and fairy lights.

“Holy crap,” Emily said. “This is unbelievable.”

Aurelia stood in the middle of it all with a blank expression. Flopping down on a beanbag, she pointed to the giant screen.

“Yeah, um, I don’t know how to work that.” Emily grabbed one of the princess dresses from the dressing-up box. Kneeling beside Aurelia, she gently helped her into it. “No beasties in this one, I promise,” she said when Aurelia hesitated. She showed her where to hold the little ice parcel against her skin, then stood up. “I’m going to find your mummy now, okay?”

Aurelia pressed a palm to her thigh. Don’t go.

“Oh, sweetie, I have to go get your mum. I shouldn’t really be in here, you know.” It had been a long time since the no-go–zone rule was mentioned, so Emily wasn’t exactly sure how Nina would react, but she didn’t want to find out. Being inside felt like a betrayal, which meant it probably was.

But the pull of Aurelia’s doe eyes was too strong, and she found herself sinking back to the floor. She nestled against the beanbag and stroked Aurelia’s hair, still half expecting the allergic reaction to kick in; what if the kid ballooned up or passed out or exploded or something? What would she do then? Nina would go nuts.

Aurelia shuffled and wriggled until she was comfortably nestled in the crook of Emily’s arm; then she reached for her hand, and they laced their fingers together. Emily smiled, catching a glimpse of what it might have been like to have siblings. Midnight feasts, whispered secrets. Little sister, she thought, snuggling closer.

“Hey,” Emily said softly, after a while. “Can you talk?”

Aurelia, unsurprisingly, did not reply.

“Can you say my name? Can you say Emily?”

Nothing. Emily looked down at Aurelia’s chalky knees resting against her own. She’d never noticed that Aurelia had so many freckles: a constellation of honey-colored stars.

The minutes crept by, and they fell into a comfortable, drowsy silence. Head to head, hand in hand, they contemplated the ceiling, their chests rising and falling with the same tide-like rhythm, until their eyelids grew heavy and the lights became fireflies, wheeling in the air above them.

* * *

Emily woke up. Her mouth was thick with sleep.

She sat up in alarm and looked around. She was still in the playroom, but she was alone. Aurelia had gone.

She pushed herself up on one elbow, her heart pounding. The shadows on the wall had changed, and the light coming in through the window was a golden orange. How long had she been dozing? There was no obvious sign that Nina was back or had been in the room (no noises in the kitchen, no shoes or towel on the playroom floor), but somehow Emily felt watched.

Listening, straining to hear something, anything, she followed the crisscross of lights above her head and the pattern of pictures that dripped down the walls. Dogs and cats. Fairies and witches. Multiplication tables. A poster of the solar system. A drawing of a bear with the words “I love you beary much” written across the bottom.

And in a blinding moment of clarity, she realized what had been bugging her about the house. There were no photos anywhere. Not one. No family snaps, no baby shots, no pictures at the zoo. No messy ice-cream face or birthday candles or first bike ride. Not even a wedding portrait. Nina wasn’t big on clutter, but Emily would have thought there’d be at least a few frames scattered around here and there, especially in her bedroom. But except for the framed drawings in this room and the paintings in the sitting room, all the walls were blank. A bare expanse of emptiness.

I touch my cheek with sticky fingers. The powder-pink rug has left an imprint on my skin and fibers on my tongue. I must’ve been on the floor for some time.

I stretch an arm out. It feels loose and floppy, like a flap of useless skin. Rolling over, I hear the crunch of glass and a splintered wooden frame pokes me in the back.

The room has fallen sideways. The furniture plays tricks on me. Huge paper light shades sprout out of the walls like beanstalks; the cot is hanging from the ceiling. Stuffed toys float on a sloping sea of fuzz.

Seeping toward the toys is a thick spill of blood, a black lake carrying a glass bottle with a message inside. Be careful, I call to a small yellow teddy bear. Don’t drown! I try to save him, but I’m too far away.

I blink, and the blood spill is gone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

EMILY