“Yes,” George murmurs, letting the empty Variant pouch fall to the ground, his eyes fixed skyward. “Here they come.”
The weight in my chest lifts with each new piercing light.
Three.
Then six more.
Ten.
Constellations knit themselves together in the sky.
Bold stars light with single fires. Then clusters of smaller, distant ones appear in soft wisps. I stop looking after a moment and watch everyone’s faces instead.
Joy blooms in my chest.
Beas wears a stunned grin, and Thom is looking only at her. George has dropped to his knees. And Eliza—?steely, controlled Eliza—?covers her mouth with her hands as tears slip over them. Will is looking at the sky as if he could drink it. As if he’s never seen anything more beautiful.
Then he looks at me.
He throws his shovel to the ground.
“Will—” I start to say.
He’s to me in three strides.
He takes my face in his hands and kisses me, deep and tender and glowing with joy, in front of everyone. I don’t think, I just kiss him back, both of us sweat-streaked and covered in dirt, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer as the stars explode into being above our heads. Thom whoops and yells, “Hot diggity dog!” and dips Beas into a long, low kiss.
Eliza looks dazed, a mixture of shock and disbelief at everything happening in front of her. But when George leans forward, she immediately recovers.
“Nope,” she says, stopping him with a manicured hand that is caked with soil. She wipes her damp eyes with her wrist. “Not even once. Not even now.”
“But . . . maybe someday?” George grins. His hair is tousled, his face smeared with dirt. He opens his arms to her while also taking a respectful step back.
“Maybe, Mackelroy,” she says, eyeing him. She smiles. Looks up again at the sky. “But probably not.”
Beas grabs me in an embrace. “You were right, my darling friend!” she whispers. She kisses my temple. “Thank you.”
We whoop and holler and scream, jumping and leaping as we scatter our tools in the field behind my mother’s house, and then we take off running. Soon I’ll come back and plant an entire garden to cover the grave, where no one will ever find it. But for now, the dawn is flooding across the sky and bringing with it the distant sound of horns. “They’re starting to realize,” George yells over his shoulder, and we run even faster.
We reach the main road just as a honking car comes around the bend and, at the sight of us, hurriedly pulls over.
Mr. Fitzpatrick jumps out, with the engine still running. “Can you smell this?” he demands, thrusting a ripped tuft of long grass under our noses.
“Yes!” Beas cries.
“Yes? Yes!” He laughs wildly. “Why? How?”
We look at one another and smother grins that threaten to burst with pride. No one can ever know what we buried, how much power lies dormant in the ground. It is one final secret that we’ll each take to our own graves.
“I have no idea,” George says with a perfectly straight face.
“We must celebrate! Spread the word! The Curse is broken!” Mr. Fitzpatrick climbs into his car. “It’s a new day for Sterling! Redemption Day! Freedom! The Curse is undone!”
There’s a bag overturned in the street up ahead, followed by the strafing of muddy footprints that have taken off into a run. Three, then four, then five more cars pass us, honking and cheering out the window. They pull over at every house along the way to pound on the door and ring the bells. Some of the women even come out in their bathrobes and curlers and climb right into the parade of cars.
One couple is kissing on their front stoop.
A deep blue is steadily seeping back into the door behind them.
“Cliffton, can you believe it? Come on, we’re heading to town!” Will’s friend Carter yells, slowing the car at the sight of us. “Hop in!”
Eliza and Beas open the back door, and Thom and George jump onto the bumper. But Will doesn’t join them. Instead he extends a hand out to George.
“It’s over,” he says.
“It’s over,” George repeats, and they shake.
“You coming, Will?” Carter yells.
“I have to get home.” Will takes off in a sprint.
I slam the car door and run after him, just like those days when we raced in the snow. With each step and breath I will the Curse to give us back the last thing it took. To let Mrs. Cliffton’s Peace seep back into her as vibrantly as the colors spreading across the doors. Garnet reds and deep blues and even a chartreuse come alive against the morning sky as we run past them.
We reach the bridge. Our reflections shimmer back, dancing across the water. My chest is filling with hope and grief and joy and pride and weariness, each one a light and shadow that seem to come hand in hand, just as the atoning and enhancing Variants were unleashed alongside the Disappearances. The way that hope uses darkness to make itself stronger. The way a Virtue was stolen, and we responded by creating so many more: courage, sacrifice, and love. Little lights blooming into the blackest night.
By the time I catch Will, he’s at the foot of the driveway, wrenching open the heavy gates. I take his arm, and with one final burst of energy we crest the hill, chests heaving.
The Cliffton’s front door has become a forest green.
Miles flings it open and comes running toward us.
“Is—” I gasp. “Mrs. Cliffton . . .”
Miles stops short and looks between Will and me.
“She’s upstairs.” He frowns, confused. “Same as always.”
At his words, my heart falls like a glass shattering.
Will pushes past Miles and runs inside.
“Where were you?” Miles asks. “What’s going on?”
I follow him into the foyer. The house smells like leather-bound books, lavender, fresh bread. “Aila, can you smell it?” Miles demands.
“Yes,” I say. “Come, Miles,” I say softly, and we climb the stairs. I am being pulled toward something else now. Something familiar, but new. “‘Like soft music to attending ears,’” I whisper. The silver sweet sound of Will’s voice.
To hear him means the final Disappearance is ended. The Curse has returned everything it took.
Almost.
The scent of the flowers from Mrs. Cliffton’s room grows stronger with each step down the hall.
“Mother?” Will asks, his voice cracking, when we’ve almost reached the bedroom door.
“William?”
I grab Miles and stop, my heart hovering. The voice I hear is hesitant. It is weak and hoarse from screaming.
“Malcolm?” it asks. “What’s happened?”
But it is hers. My whole chest takes flight.
Malcolm lets out a strangled cry, and still I hold Miles back. I bring my fingers to my lips. “Let them be,” I whisper. Let them revel in getting back what they lost. Their little family, reunited again.
The fear of hope is struggling across Miles’s face. “Is the Curse over?” he asks. I nod as Mrs. Cliffton makes a soft sound that is close to laughter, and Miles’s face breaks into something so radiant it cracks my heart wide open.
“You did something,” Miles whispers. He looks at me with suspicion. “Didn’t you?”