“Okay. I’ll come inside in a bit.”
Hannah spent another ten minutes watching the young lumis dancer perform in her bedroom, twirling her array of colored lines and spirals. The actress flinched with surprise when the girl suddenly moved to the window and waved a rainbow. Hannah didn’t know if she was waving at her or just continuing her routine. If the dancer wasn’t so far away, Hannah might have squinted at her wrist and counted the number of watches.
With that sudden reminder, Hannah dashed inside and rooted through her jeans until she found the purple note that Ioni had slipped her at the parade. Unfolding it revealed a flyer for some rock band called the Quadrants. They were playing at a Greenwich Village bar for one night only . . . in April of next year.
She flipped the sheet over and saw a few lines of blue-ink scribble:
Hannah,
Evan Rander took a good man out of your path. I’m putting one in. Go to this event. Look around. You’ll know him when you see him. He’s still wearing his bracelet.
Don’t lose hope, my dear Given. Don’t count the hours. Whether it’s four and a half years or four and a half decades, you still have a lifetime ahead of you. Enjoy as many moments as you can. Find your happy face.
Hannah leaned back against the dresser, her lips and hands trembling as she reread the note. By the third pass through, her cheeks were wet with tears and she found herself hating Ioni. The girl surely knew of the hell that awaited the Silvers in that office building, and yet she failed to warn them away. Why the hell should I trust you? Hannah seethed.
She dimmed the lights and then joined her sister in bed, spooning her from behind while Amanda gently snored.
After a dark and restless hour, Hannah stumbled back onto a charitable thought. Maybe Ioni had a reason for not warning Hannah. Maybe she thought the only way the six of them would survive the day was if all their enemies attacked them at once, and attacked each other in the process.
Who the hell could say? Hannah lived in a strange new world now, with temporis and speedsuits and parallel strings. It was almost too much for a poor actress to handle. All she knew was that she’d go and see the Quadrants play next April. Whether the mystery man was a Silver, a Gold, or some other glimmering color, he was one of her people. He had to be found.
As she drifted off to sleep, it occurred to her that she should probably find something nice to wear for the encounter. Maybe a sleek top over jeans. Or maybe something a little more respectable. Hannah supposed there was no rush to decide. The event was six months away. She had time.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing this book was a three-year endeavor, one I couldn’t have finished without the help and encouragement of some very fine people. They include Avi Bar-Zeev, Sara Glickstein Bar-Zeev, Mike Tunison, Craig Mertens, Mary Dalton-Hoffman, Mick Soth, Huan Nghiem, Jason Cole, D’Anna Sharon, Dustin Shaffer, Dave Bledsoe, Bill McDermott, Scott Clinkscales, and Ysabelle Pelletier. Yeah, there’s a Pelletier on the list.
Extra special gratitude to my alpha testers, those patient, generous souls who guided me one rough chapter at a time—Mark Harvey, Leni Fleming, Jen Gennaco, and Gretchen Walker.
Huge thanks to David Rosenthal and his team at Blue Rider Press for taking a chance on me and helping me get the Silvers ready for prime time. All readers should be grateful to my terrific editor, Vanessa Kehren. If you think this book’s fat now, you should have seen it before she got her hands on it.
No acknowledgment would be complete without mentioning the great Stuart M. Miller, my longtime agent and friend who’s supported every nutty decision I’ve made, including the one to write a multi-part, character-driven, supernatural suspense epic.
Last but not least is Ricki Bar-Zeev, my biggest fan and toughest critic. None of this—and none of me—would have been possible without her. Thank you, Mom.