“You can’t jump down,” I said, crouched and holding the limb tight as I caught my breath. “He’ll recognize you.”

“Who’ll recognize me?”

“Our . . .” I gulped breath. “Our father.”

“What?” His face screwed up. “You mean your dad?” He peered down. “Did he come back?”

“No, our father. Our biological one.” I pointed across the park. “Calvin Antone.”

He squinted. “That guy over there? In the jean jacket? That’s . . .” He was looking away, so I couldn’t see his expression.

“It’s our father,” I said. “We’ve met. He used to work for the St. Clouds, then he switched sides. He’s the one who tipped the Nasts off and started this whole mess.”

He continued watching Antone, then gave his head a sharp shake and turned on the branch to face me. “Doesn’t matter. No way in hell he’ll recognize me. You look like him. I don’t.”

That wasn’t true. When I first saw Ash, I’d thought he looked familiar. Now I knew why. Antone and I might share the same eyes and cheekbones, but Ash was nearly the spitting image of him. What had thrown me was his hazel eyes and brown hair. That’s what he meant, I’m sure—that he didn’t have our father’s coloring. It didn’t matter.

“He’ll recognize you,” I said.

“He’s never met—”

“Doesn’t matter. Do you know why he quit the St. Clouds? Because they wouldn’t give me to him. That’s why he turned us in to the Nasts. Because they promised to give me to him.”

“That’s you. That’s not—”

“He wants me because I’m the one he found. He’s still looking for you. If anyone has ever taken a picture of you, you can be sure he has it. Probably in his wallet. Which would be very sweet—if he wasn’t willing to mow down anyone who gets between us and him. He’ll know you, Ash. I can guarantee he’ll know you.”

“Fine.” One last glance at Antone, then he pulled his gaze away and looked out over the park. “Now what?”

“We go back to where we were and make a dash to the woods—”

“They’ll see us.”

“We can—”

“You’re only thinking of doing that because of your friends.” He inched along the tree. “I get that you’re worried about them. You guys have grown up together and you’ve been through a lot and Daniel is obviously . . . important to you.”

“All my friends are.”

Ash rolled his eyes but didn’t pursue it. “That’s great, I’m sure. Except when you’re so concerned that you’ll make a bone-headed move to reach them. You need to trust that they can look after themselves, Maya. You need to look after yourself.”

His gaze jerked left and I saw Antone, the witch, and the others less than a hundred meters away.

Ash swore. “Great. Pep talk over.” He met my gaze. “Either you come with me or I leave. I didn’t come to have my ass hauled into a cage.”

“I’m with you.”

I scanned our surroundings. The tiny building housing the washrooms was right under the next tree. I pointed to it.

Ash shook his head. “Already scoped it. Can’t jump onto the roof without being exposed and the branches over it don’t go far enough to get us to the other side, where we could jump down and be hidden.”

“Then we’ll have to jump farther.”

“Too much risk. I can’t see how thick the branches are, and—”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re hopelessly pessimistic?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re recklessly optimistic?”

“It’s not reckless if you don’t have a choice.” I started out. “Follow my lead. Try not to fall.”

He muttered something under his breath, but he stayed behind me.

FOURTEEN

ASH WAS RIGHT. THE branch over the washrooms didn’t extend all the way—not before it tapered off too much for us to balance on. We’d have to get close enough, try to jump over the building and hope we didn’t thump down on the roof instead. I went first. The hard part of this was, well, the hard part—namely the ground at the end of the four-meter leap. I managed it, but pain still stabbed through my legs. I was safe, though, hidden on the other side of the small building.

Ash wasn’t quite so lucky. He wouldn’t go as far out on the branch as I had. I’m sure he’d say it’s because he was heavier, but I wasn’t wrong when I said he could be overly cautious. His jump was a few inches short, which meant he didn’t land on the roof, but his back did bump the edge. He hit the ground harder, too, and crouched there, teeth clenched as he inhaled and exhaled.

“You okay?” I whispered.

He glowered up at me.

“Hey, we’re where we wanted to be, right?” I tilted my head to listen. “No cries of alarm.”

He grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. Now turn around and give me your shirt.”

“What?”

“We’re trading shirts. I was wearing this one the last time Antone saw me. Then we’re going to walk. From this far away, I’m hoping, if we are spotted, they won’t recognize me if I’m with you. You’re too small to be Daniel or Corey.”

He scowled. “Thanks.”

“It’s a fact, not an insult. Stop being so damned sensitive and take off your shirt.”

We switched tops with a remarkable lack of further muttering on his part. I tucked my long hair under it, so from a distance, it would look short. There were more trees in front of us—too widely spaced for us to climb through, but they cast plenty of shadowy shade. On the other side was a playground, then another parking lot. Lots of obstacles in both. My plan was for us to just walk out of the park, as casually as possible, using what cover we could.

It wasn’t a great plan, but if our sensitive hearing picked up a cry or approaching footfalls, we should have time to run. They wouldn’t use a tranq gun in a public park. Not with a scattering of parents and little kids over in the playground. Or so I hoped.

“Okay, now hold my hand,” I said.

Ash looked at me like I’d asked him to swallow live bugs.