The horse was stunning. It had stockings of white on its front legs and a white star between its eyes. It neighed, raised its neck, and extended its shimmering M-shaped wings. They spanned a hundred feet on either side and were composed of a multitude of tiny flying things—bees, moths, fireflies, and black-and-white-striped baby hoopoe birds—beating their own wings in unison. Iridescent violet seams near the horse’s shoulders bound the wings—cruelly, beautifully—to its body.
A rustling came from the center of the horse’s left wing. Slender fingers wriggled through the layers of wings, followed by a palm, which glided forward as if parting a curtain. Esme’s face filled the gap.
“What do you think of our Pegasus?”
“Pegasus Two!” an unseen witch shouted from the top side of the wing.
“Yes, yes, we created one before. He was sacrificed to progress, like Icarus, or Atari,” Esme said. “We will call this one Peggy to distinguish.” She reached into a silver satchel strapped to the base of the horse’s neck and tossed down a ladder made of moths. “A stolen horse is not our preferred way to travel, but when Solon ran out of wings … No matter. We will be home soon and everything will be as it should long have been.”
Brooks reached for the ladder. The moths reorganized, drawing together, then tapering to stretch a little lower. He stepped onto the lowest rung, turned, and extended a hand to Eureka.
“You always said you wanted to fly away. Here’s your hallelujah by and by.”
The words were from her favorite hymn. She’d sung it with Brooks in oak boughs when they were kids, the bayou below snaking into the distance until it disappeared. “I’ll Fly Away” gave Eureka hope. Atlas wouldn’t have known about it. He was using Brooks’s memories to bait her, as Solon said he would. If there were memories to steal, there was still a Brooks inside, somewhere, to save.
“I don’t know—”
Could she fly away from the twins, Cat, and Ander? Would they drown if Eureka left with Brooks?
Brooks smiled. “You know.”
She didn’t have Ovid, and she couldn’t go back for it now. Could she trust that the gossipwitches wanted to get home badly enough to take her to the Marais? Was this voyage what Esme had said she owed them?
Thunder cracked overhead. Eureka ducked. Brooks was still holding out his hand.
“Come on,” he urged.
Maybe he was lying about everything else, but he was right about Eureka. She knew she had to go. She knew her loved ones couldn’t come with her. She knew there wasn’t any time. She knew she had to save the world. And she knew that the only way to get there was with the one she had to destroy. She took his hand.
“Eureka!”
Ander sloshed across the flooded veranda as her feet lifted from the stone.
Water streamed from her running shoes. She dangled a few feet in the air. The hurt in Ander’s eyes pierced her.
Rain soaked his shirt, flattened his blond hair across his forehead. He looked so ordinary and beautiful that Eureka thought if things were different, if every single thing were different, she could fall in love with him from scratch.
“Wait!” she shouted up at the gossipwitches.
Eureka heard what sounded like a whip. The ladder bounced as Peggy’s wings flattened overhead. The silver horse neighed in protest.
“There’s no time for this!” Brooks shouted at Esme.
“There is time for a single goodbye,” Esme said from the gap in Peggy’s wing. “We will wait.”
“What are you doing?” Ander shouted.
“I’m sorry!” Eureka called over the drone of a million wings. Her heart raced wildly. She imagined it bursting from her chest, sending fragments of chaotic love onto the two boys she was caught between. “I have to go.”
“We were going to go together,” Ander said.
“If you knew the things I know, you wouldn’t want to go with me. You’d be glad I was leaving. So be glad.”
“I love you. Nothing else matters.” Ander blinked. “Don’t go with him, Eureka. He’s not Brooks.”
Brooks laughed. “She’s already chosen. Try to be a man about it.”
“Eureka!” Ander didn’t look at Brooks. His turquoise eyes were trained on her for the last time.
“Eureka,” Brooks whispered in her good ear.