Eureka splashed some of the purple liquid onto her palm. It was flecked with gold, like the nail polishes at her aunt Maureen’s salon. She swirled a fingertip in the salve and rubbed it on a portion of her wrist.
Searing heat gripped her, and she felt immensely stupid for trusting the gossipwitches. But an instant later the heat subsided and a pleasant coolness washed over her, vanquishing the pain. The swelling shrank; the bruise faded where the salve had been, then disappeared. It was miraculous. Eureka spread more of the liquid over her wrist. She bore the heat, waiting for the cool relief and the pain it lifted like a layer of clothing. She closed her eyes and sighed. She tucked the bottle into her tote bag, eager to share the rest with Dad.
“Okay,” she told the gossipwitches, “we’ll follow you.”
“No.” The young witch shook her head and pointed to the staircase in the rock. “We’ll follow you.”
The path was steep and flooded. The clouds hung low, black as smoke from a house on fire. The witches guided Eureka and Ander through the lacework of delicate mountain peaks, always walking behind them, barking commands like “Left!” when the route forked unexpectedly, “Up!” when they were meant to scale a steep, slippery bluff, and “Duck!” when a half-dead snake slipped from a branch and cough-hissed at them as they passed. The middle witch yelled commands that Eureka didn’t understand—“Ye!” and “Ha!” and “Roscoe Leroy!”
Every step took Eureka farther from her family and her friend. She imagined William and Claire peering at the mountain. She wondered how long before they gave up watching.
She entered a scattered forest of dying hazelnut trees. The leaves were turning brown and the shells of salt-crusted nuts crunched beneath Eureka’s shoes. A spider’s web dangled between two branches and swayed in the wind. Droplets clung to it like pearls a young nymph had abandoned in the woods.
“Eureka!”
She looked up and saw William and Claire cradled in the branches of a giant hazelnut tree. The twins hopped to the ground and splashed through the mud, running toward her. She didn’t believe it was them, even when she had them in her arms. She closed her eyes and breathed in their scent, wanting to believe: it was ivory soap and starlight.
“How did you get here?”
The twins each took one of her hands. They wanted to show her something.
On the other side of the tree a long white object shimmered in the rain. Eureka approached it cautiously, but the twins laughed and pulled her harder. It was shaped like a hammock, but its fabric made it look more like a huge cocoon. Eureka studied it, amazed by what appeared to be a million iridescent moth wings woven together. The tiny, fragile pieces formed a massive bower that hovered in the air, floating on its own.
Inside the bower lay Eureka’s father. A thin canopy of soft brown wings shielded his face from the rain. The sliced shoulder Eureka had bound in her shirt had been expertly redressed in a silky fuchsia gauze. A poultice of the same material was wrapped around the bruise on his forehead. He was awake. He reached for her hand and smiled.
“Good doctors on this side of town.”
“How’s the pain?” Eureka asked.
“A nice distraction.” His eyes looked lucid but he spoke like he was dreaming.
She reached into her pocket, pressed the vial of salve into his hand. “This will help.”
Beyond the moth-wing bower, three new gossipwitches huddled under another, sadder tree, murmuring to each other behind the backs of their hands. The witches who had led Ander and Eureka here flowed toward the others, kissing them on the cheeks and whispering as if they had years of news to catch up on.
“How many are there?” Eureka wondered.
Cat appeared at her side. “The freaky fairy godmothers showed up a few minutes after you left. I was like, ‘Where are all my baby teeth you took?’ Thanks for sending them down to help us.”
“I didn’t send them,” Eureka said.
“One of them flicked her tongue in a hole in a tree,” William said, “and a zillion bugs flew from it.”