“Where are the other four pieces? If Circe was looking and couldn’t find them, if nobody in this family has been able to find them after all this time, how are we supposed to locate four pieces in a month?”

There were pins in that map behind my fireplace, but that was my only lead.

“Where do we even start?” Mo asked. She collapsed into tears again and Dr. Grant handed her a tissue.

“There’s also the issue of Karter, or whatever his real name was,” Dr. Grant said. “You said he was injured pretty badly. I’ll check the hospitals and clinics, but he probably didn’t stick around.”

I felt the tears coming again. I got up and walked out of the room.

“Love, wait,” Mo said.

“I need a minute.” I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare. All I wanted to do was wake up.

I wandered back to the apothecary. Fragments of broken jars lay scattered on the splintered floor. The counter sat crooked on its base. The jar of oleander lay open on the ground and a large circle of blackened wood where Hecate had disappeared with my mom stained the ground by the door.

I weaved through the shattered remains of the apothecary and went into the room behind the hidden panel. I gazed up at Medea’s portrait, avoiding Jason’s branch of the tree. I couldn’t stand to look at it. I sat down in front of the altar and hung my head and cried until I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

A commotion drew me out of my despair—Dr. Grant was shouting, and suddenly, everything went quiet. I raced down the hall and into the front room.

Mo and Nyx were standing next to each other. A tall woman with a head full of waist-length braids held Marie by her arm. Marie wasn’t struggling but she seemed upset. Dr. Grant cowered in the corner of the room. There was one other person there, and she stood over Dr. Grant, her back to me.

The woman in the braids took notice of me and her hands flew to her mouth as she inhaled sharply.

“I’m sorry!” Dr. Grant shouted.

“Have you been here this whole time?” the stranger asked angrily. “You didn’t guess what might be going on? After what happened to my baby sister, you didn’t think maybe you should be extra vigilant? You’re smarter than that but Jesus Christ, Khadijah, what is wrong with you?”

“I have been vigilant! Fourteen years I been here trying to fix this!” Dr. Grant insisted. “I’ve been trying to help!”

“Circe,” the tall woman standing with Marie said. “Circe, look.”

The woman turned and met my gaze. She wore a dark green head wrap twisted into an elaborate knot. Strands of her jet-black curls stuck out from underneath it. We shared the same dark brown eyes and she even wore a pair of oversized glasses that she pushed up the bridge of her nose.

“Briseis,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “I—I never thought I’d see you again.”

A thudding noise drew my attention to the foyer.

Not thudding. Beating. Like the rhythm of a heart.

Sitting in the entryway were two identical glass enclosures, padlocked shut, their panes painted black. The sound was emanating from them. I turned back to the woman—to Circe, who smiled warmly.

“I have so much to tell you,” she said.