I took that wall down, brick by brick, and when my arms couldn’t hold the sledgehammer any longer, Jameson took over for me. With one last swing, he cleared enough that I could step through the rubble.

Jameson ducked in after me.

Oren let us go. He didn’t even try to follow. He stayed positioned at the entrance to Toby’s wing, on the lookout for anyone who might decide that we didn’t belong there.

“You must think I’ve lost it.” I snuck a look at Jameson as I walked across the marble floor of Toby’s hall.

“I think,” Jameson murmured, “that you finally let go.”

I remembered the way his skin had felt under my hands in the hot tub. That was letting go. This was me, hanging on to something. I didn’t even know what.

“He doesn’t want me to find him.” Saying the words out loud made it feel real.

“Which suggests,” Jameson added, “that he thinks we might be able to.”

We.

I stepped into Toby’s bedroom. The black lights were still there.

Jameson turned them on. The writing was still on the literal walls.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jameson said, like it was a confession, like his mind wasn’t always on the move. “The old man didn’t leave Xander an impossible task. He left a game, one originally meant for Zara and Skye. And that means that if we follow this through to the end, there will be an end. This is all leading somewhere. I can feel it.”

I took a step toward him. Then another. And another.

“You can feel it, too, can’t you?” Jameson said as I closed the space between us.

I could feel it. The chase was gaining momentum. The hunt was closing

in. Eventually, we’d figure out what the dates on the rings meant. We were barreling forward. Jameson and me.

I pushed him up against the closest wall. I could see Toby’s writing all around him, but I didn’t want to think about Toby, who’d told me to stop looking.

I didn’t want to think about anything, so I kissed the boy. This time it wasn’t rough or frantic. It was gentle and slow and terrifying and perfect. And for once in my life, I didn’t feel alone.