I let out a shuddering breath and looked over to where Daniel was hiding and saw him there, half rising from the grass, his gaze fixed on me. He raised his hand, not quite a wave, more just . . . something. Some attempt at contact, at comfort, and I wished I was there. Damn it, why wasn’t I with him? What the hell had possessed me to be up here, to go through this alone?

I lifted my hand, reaching out. Then Corey pulled him down.

“Good,” Ash grunted.

I glanced over and reminded myself I wasn’t alone. Not really. But in some ways, I wished I was, because I got nothing from Ash. Not a smile. Not a kind word. Not even a sympathetic look. He just scowled, like I was going to blow our cover over nothing.

I turned back to my parents.

“Don’t.”

I looked over again. Now I saw some glimmer in his eyes, though he held his face tight, lips still compressed.

“Don’t look,” he said. “Just . . . don’t look.”

I hesitated, and I wanted to say I could handle it. But I couldn’t. Not this. So I dropped my cheek to the rough bark, closed my eyes, and listened to the ceremony.

Listening wasn’t easy, either. It was surreal when you knew that the kids they were reminiscing about were still alive. It was like hearing speeches at a wedding or a graduation, talking about someone’s life, the best of their life, but instead of joy and laughter, each new recollection brought a sob or cry of grief.

When my dad got up to speak, I plugged my ears. I knew I had to. One crack in his voice and I’d have leaped from that tree, running to the stage, shouting, “I’m here, Daddy. I’m still here.” So I plugged my ears and I squeezed my eyes shut until Ash reached over and tapped my arm.

When I took my fingers from my ears, he caught my hand and I looked over to tell him not to worry, that I wasn’t going to do anything stupid, but he only gave my hand a squeeze—a quick one—before letting it fall.

THIRTEEN

THE SERVICE ENDED AFTER that. It wasn’t until it did, and people started filing back to the cars, that I realized what had happened. Nothing. Not a single parent had wandered from the service for a few minutes of solace. How could they? They were all trapped in the front row. They couldn’t have slipped away even if they had wanted to.

When the service ended, ushers surrounded our parents and escorted them directly to their vehicles, just as they’d escorted them in.

“They’re not letting them stop for nothing,” Ash said. “Not even a piss break. They have to hold it until they get them someplace safe.”

I kept watching. Kept hoping. But Chief Carling and Travis climbed in their car. So did Daniel’s family and Mrs. Tillson and the Morrises. My parents and Grandma lingered. They didn’t get up and talk to anyone, just sat in their seats as if they hadn’t realized it was over. Two more ushers came over and finally got them into the car.

“No one left,” I whispered. “No one at all.”

“Could have told you that,” Ash said.

I glared over at him.

“What? I could have. Cabals are geniuses at this kind of thing. They’ve been around since the Inquisition. That’s hundreds of years of experience acting like good corporate citizens while they do stuff that would make the Mafia take notes. They’ll cover up your deaths and they’ll hold your parents prisoner until they’ve rounded you all up. And the beauty of it? Your parents won’t even realize they were prisoners. They’ll just think the St. Clouds were being really, really helpful.”

He eased back on his branch. “I knew they’d never let you near them.”

“Then why didn’t you say so?”

“You wouldn’t have listened.”

There was no response to that, so I lay on the branch, staring down, sifting through the remaining friends and families for someone left that we could contact. Maybe. If we were careful. And desperate. When I saw Brendan Hajek over by the washrooms I turned my attention to him. He started heading in the opposite direction—away from the service area. I glanced back to see his mother, the local veterinarian, helping remove the posters from the stage.

So Dr. Hajek had volunteered for clean-up duty and Brendan was using the break to wander off for a bit. Alone.

“I need to talk to Daniel,” I said. “I’m going down. Can you cover me?”

“What?”

Ash had been peering at something and jumped when I spoke. I had to repeat myself.

“No, we need to stay here.”

“There’s no one around. I can dash—”

“You need to stay here, Maya, until those guys are gone.” He pointed to a cluster of strangers beside the stage.

“You know them?” I said.

“No, but they’re obviously Cabal goons.”

They looked like normal mourners to me. The two guys in suits could be security—they were certainly big enough—but everyone else just looked ordinary. Until one of them took a two-way radio from his pocket and stepped away from the group, and I followed his gaze to see another “ordinary-looking guy” across the park, also on a radio.

“Why are they still here?” I said. “Almost everyone’s gone.”

“You’re not.” He swore under his breath. “They knew you’d come. They must have. They’re searching the park now.”

“Okay, we knew that might happen. We’ll lie low until everyone’s gone.”

We continued watching. Another car arrived and a woman got out. She looked as ordinary as the rest of them. Older, maybe in her fifties, with short graying hair. She wore a stylish jacket and slacks.

Ash cursed and scrambled up.

“What?” I said.

“Witch.”

I peered at the woman, who looked more like a prep school teacher. “How can you tell?”

“By the long black hair and pointed nose.” He shot me a look. “I recognize her, obviously. The St. Clouds only have one witch, as far as I know, and that’s her.”

“One witch? Are they rare?”

“No, it’s just that sorcerers don’t like working with them and vice versa.”

“Okay, so . . .”

“Cabals have witches so they can use high-powered witch magic, like sensing spells.”

I remembered a memo I’d seen about our escape. Calvin Antone had been asking for a werewolf and the Enwright witches to help track us.