I wake up the next morning with the peculiar sensation that all of my organs have been removed, scrubbed clean with a toothbrush, and placed neatly back into my body, which is at once a wonderful and disgusting feeling. Witch magic, especially the healing sort, commonly has this effect. I've never gotten used to it.

    I sit up with a low groan, scratching my head. The mattresses on either side of me are empty: the one to the left of me with its cover tossed aside without care, the one to the right of me neatly made up without a wrinkle in sight. Jamie and Lucci, respectively.

    The room is dim and disorienting; I have no way to know if it's day or night or some strange limbo in between. I get to my feet, half-staggering towards the window and yanking the curtains aside.

    Mid-morning sunlight splinters my eyes. Outside, at the house across from this one, a young pixie kneels and coaxes an iris plant to bloom, white and purple flowers opening up beneath her fingers. A smile spreads across my face before I can stop it. If you really are here, Mom, I think, I understand why.

    I pull the curtain back into place and go in search of a bathroom to freshen up. I need to find the boys; Lucci I'm worried about because he's heedless and human and could easily get himself into trouble, and Jamie I'm worried about because he's Jamie.

    I find Lucci first. Once I've brushed the knots from my hair and my breath no longer smells abysmal, I wander into the kitchen, where I find Kazue stirring something in a pot, singing to herself in soft Japanese. I ask if she's seen the boys, and she shrugs and gestures with her spoon to the back patio door, all the while a careful eyebrow risen.

    I don't know what that eyebrow means, but I try not to think about it.

    The back porch is a small rectangle of cement with two wire chairs and an almost miniature table sitting atop of it. The rest of the backyard is a fenced in plot of grass, neatly mown.

    Lucci, seated in one of the chairs with his legs crossed, glances up as I slide the door open and step outside. The air is warm but not hot, like a glass of water left on the counter. It smells like asphalt.

    "Tea?" Lucci asks.

    "What?"

    "Tea," he says again, and gestures towards a clay tea set sitting on the table beside him. "Do you want some? It's matcha. It'll wake you up."

    "I'm awake," I mutter, but take the cup he hands me anyway. I think about taking the seat next to him, but don't, loitering awkwardly in front of the door instead. "What are you doing out here?"

    He tilts his head, dreadlocks bumping his shoulder. Remarkably, he's in a sweatshirt. I don't think I've ever seen him wear one of those. It's off-putting. "Thinking," he tells me, his gaze straight ahead.

    "About?"

    He does something I don't know Lucci to do very much.

    He says nothing.

    I pivot on my foot, already reaching for the door. "Fine. If you're not going to talk to me, I'm going to go look for Jamie."

    "It's about him, actually."

    I stop, turning around again. Now he's looking at me, frowning, those dark, dark eyes of his a lighter, coppery brown in the sun. I speak slowly, trying to keep my tone level. "What about Jamie?"

    Lucci scoffs, mouth curling into a smirk. "You know exactly what about Jamie."

    I shake my head. "Lucci. I'm not talking about this with you."

    "I mean, what's your plan, Violet?" he says, his accent sneaking up on him again. "When you find your mother and hand her off to Alonso, what exactly are you going to tell him? He's never going to look at you the same."

    The words hurt more than I care to admit. Mindlessly, I brush the necklace at my throat, suddenly feeling exposed, as if everything I say is being broadcasted to an audience of millions. Close enough, honestly. "I'll figure it out before it comes to that," I snap. "So right now, just don't—ruin it."

    He looks at me, dubious, then chuckles and turns around again. "Don't worry. I wasn't planning on saying anything; I wouldn't do that without your permission. I just—"

    "You just?"

    "I just know what it looks like when your own family loses faith in you, Violet, and it is not a pretty picture," Lucci answers. There's a soft clink as he sets his teacup down, rising to his full height, which I am once again reminded is substantially higher than mine. He turns, enveloping me in his shadow, his eyes gentler than I have ever seen them. "Maybe it's presumptuous of me, but I really don't want that to happen to you."

    "Why?" My voice is almost a whisper. "You're just here for your uncle. Why do you care what happens between Jamie and me?"

    "Well, God," Lucci says, rolling his eyes. He rocks back on his heels a bit, broadening the gap of space between us. "Maybe because it would just be nice if the both of you were happy after all the terrible things that have happened to you? Maybe because I like you, so obviously I would want things to go well for you?"

    Immediately, Lucci stops. His eyes go round, and then he's backing up, sputtering, his mouth moving at a mile a minute. "Wait. I don't mean—I just mean that I consider you as a good friend of mine, like I like you as a person, not as—like I just...I enjoy your company, sí? I mean, hopefully I do! Because it would sort of suck to have to work with you if I didn't!"

    "Lucci," I say.

    "And, Jamie, too! He's such a good kid! Not the brightest shed in the toolbox, as they say—they do say that, right?—but still such a good kid! Naturally I would want to protect him, and everything, but if I was speaking out of turn—"

    "Lucci!" I say again, but at that point, it's too late. He steps off the patio at an awkward angle, flails in the air for a moment, before he tips backwards and hits the ground with a thud.

    He lets out a long exhale. "Ow."

    "Sorry," I say, standing over him. He looks up at me with a grimace. "I was trying to warn you, but you were talking too much."

    I offer him a hand, which he takes with a weak smile, his palm lightly calloused against mine. I start to heft him up, letting out a startled yelp when he yanks me down instead, so quickly I have to press a hand into his chest to keep from falling into the dirt.

    "Lucci," I say, but he's just laughing, so much that his eyes are squinty. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

    "I'm laughing," he says. "Because I'm hilarious."

    "Oh my God. Are you concussed? You have a concussion, don't you? Here." I sit back, holding up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

    He doesn't answer. He reaches up, lowering my hand to my lap. There's a breath of hesitation before he lets go of it, and he looks up at me again, the mirth suddenly gone from his expression. "Violet, I'll follow whatever you decide, of course," he says, "but would you think about it? Would you at least think about telling him?"

    I stare at him, and suddenly the world is so loud: ants skittering about in the grass beneath us, the quiet but electric zoom of monorails in the distance, and here, my own pulse, pounding away like a drum in my ears.

    "I—"

    "Violet!"

    Both Lucci and I snap to attention, whirling at the sound of my name. I see Nathalia first, marching through the backyard gate, nostrils flaring. Then my eyes lower and I see Jamie, the collar of his shirt caught in her grasp, a helpless pout on his face.

    By the time they reach us, both Lucci and I are on our feet, dusting dirt from our clothes. Nathalia deposits Jamie in front of me like she would an old sack of potatoes, her nose wrinkled with anger. "Jamie," she says. "Would you like to tell your sister why I just had to postpone my grocery trip to drag your sorry ass out of the train station?"

    Jamie sits in the grass innocently, his legs folded underneath him. "Because I was lost?" he attempts. "And I might not have made it back if you didn't?"

    Nathalia is seething. "Nice try."

    I let out a sigh, dropping to a crouch in front of Jamie. Bumping his knee with my fist, I say, "What did you do?"

    "I didn't mean to."

    "I know, kiddo. Just tell me."

    "I thought I'd go ask around, you know. To see if anyone had heard of that production company Mom was at?" Jamie starts, bouncing his leg up and down at a speed that shouldn't be possible. "But anyway most people said no so I ended up at the train station. It's soooo big, Vy. So many people. I've never seen that many people in one place before—"

    Nathalia pinches his cheek, and although I can tell it's supposed to, it doesn't seem to bother him. "Out with it, already!"

    Jamie leans forward, his eyes bright with excitement. "I asked this guy in a suit, a human, I think, and at first he had absolutely no idea what I was saying, but then he was like 'Yes, yes I do know Sakura Studios, why do you ask?' So of course I told him."

    Lucci slaps his hand to his face.

    "Jamie," I say. "You did not."

    "I did! I said: 'I think my mom maybe works there.' And he said: 'Oh, what does she do?' So I said: 'She's a werewolf. She used to be in a circus but then they sold her so I think maybe she's doing movie things now. Have you seen her?'"

    Nathalia sighs. "That's not even the worst part."

    "Now this guy was looking kind of scared, you know? I don't know why; I wasn't going to kill him or anything. Actually, I thought he was sort of nice and I try not to kill nice people. He told me, 'No, no I have not seen her.' So then I got to thinking that maybe all he needed was something to jog his memory."

    "Is it just me," Lucci says, "or does everyone else want to bang their head against a wall the more they hear of this, too?"

    Jamie ignores this. He's into it now, waving his hands in the air, his eyes bright with excitement even as his story fills the rest of us with dread. "So I said, 'Are you sure, sir? Like really really sure? As a wolf, she'd look sort of like this.' So then I changed—"

    "Jamie!" I gasp. "In the middle of the train station? With all those people?"

    He shrugs. "I thought it was okay. Since we're in the Nonhuman District?"

    "The train station does not count," Nathalia snaps. "People from every district—from everywhere are walking around there, Jamie. It's not exactly a safe zone!"

    "It wasn't that bad," he says, glaring at her.

    Nathalia glares back. "People were screaming, Jamie. Someone called animal control."

    "So?"

    "So you could have gone to the pound!"

    "Okay, fair," Jamie says, and tilts his head. "But consider this: I didn't."

    Now I'm starting to think Lucci isn't the only one who's concussed. "That's it," I say, pulling Jamie up to his feet. "I don't want you wandering off without me anymore, do you understand? It's too dangerous."

    He pouts out his bottom lip. As if that's going to work on me.

    Okay. So it has before, but we were both much, much younger, so I'm choosing not to count that.

    He groans, "But Vyyyyyyyy..."

    "I'm serious. If Nathalia weren't there it would've been catastrophe," I say, meeting the witch's gaze over Jamie's head. She nods at me, a tacit You're welcome. "You're not ready yet, Jamie. I'm sorry."

    For a second I think he's going to go all sulky and stomp back into the house, but he doesn't. He just says, "I know where their office is, though."

    At that, all of us jolt, even Nathalia. Lucci steps forward, furrowing his brow. "You do? The guy told you?"

    Jamie shakes his head, fishing something out of the pocket of his shorts. "No, but when he screamed and ran off he left his bag. I found a business card in it."

    He produces the business card in question, a small rectangle of matte black card stock. He hands it to me, Lucci looking over my shoulder as I examine it.

    Sure enough, the man is an entry level employee at Sakura Studios, and right underneath his cell number is an address here in Tokyo.

    I hand the business card off to Lucci, then turn a beaming smile towards my brother. "Jamie?"

    "Yes?"

    "You're positively insane," I say. "But damn, you're kind of good at this."