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torn, just as bloody. More blood spread out on the knees of his white flannels. The only thing I couldn’t figure out was why it didn’t hurt.
    “It will,” said Papa as if I’d spoken out loud. I was leaking thoughts again. I tried to pull the edges of my mind properly closed, but I was drained of magic and blood, and it was real slow going.
    Papa dragged me and Mama across the street, dodging traffic and rubberneckers all the way over to the train station. Jack followed close behind. Blue-uniformed cops pushed past us out of the station doors, billy clubs out and whistles shrilling.
    By that time, my skin had decided something was wrong after all. Pain throbbed in my arms and belly. Papa didn’t say a word. He just took my wrists, and his magic flowed across my skin like cool water. It stung for a second, but when I turned my palms up again, the skin was whole. He looked at me with his swirling, shining gaze, but the light wasn’t as bright as it had been, and I saw there were dark rings under his eyes and his face was drawn tight. My father was wearing out. He’d been using a lot of magic, fast, and he was stillweak from his imprisonment, not to mention the fight with the Seelie king, and he’d just had to rescue us again.
    I bit my lip and turned away.
    Papa sighed and moved off to heal Jack and clean him up, same as he’d done to me. My mother had put on the look that meant a lecture was coming. But I wasn’t going to hear it. I knew I was wrong. I knew it was my fault Jack was hurt, but I couldn’t make myself say anything about it. It didn’t make any sense, but there it was anyhow. I turned away from all of them and marched to the granite station wall. I folded my arms stubbornly, and bent my knees until I slid down the wall and crouched in the shade. I would be double-darned if I was going to apologize for what I’d done. I was trying to save lives. And I wasn’t a baby. I knew what was what. I took my own chances. And Papa hadn’t needed to sic those men on that tree, whatever it was. Why couldn’t he hear it? Why couldn’t he have
tried
to help?
    Something sizzled overhead, and then it hissed, “You!”
    My gaze jerked up to the swaying power lines. Edison looked down at me with its almost human eyes. It had dimmed its white blaze, so it was barely more than a heat mirage rippling in the bright daylight. It swung down from the line, stretching its arms out like rubber bands until it dangled almost level with my eyes.
    “You killed her,” it breathed, if that’s a word you can use with something that flickers and burns.
    “Wha …” For one wild second I thought it was talking about Ivy Bright.
    “You killed Stripling.” Its words spat and scattered like sparks. “You stood there and let her get hacked to death!”
    I winced, and batted at the sparks as they fell. “It wasn’t me,” I tried to say. “I—”
    “Oh, save it!” The creature swung toward me. Edison might have dimmed down, but its heat still prickled against my skin. I tried to press backward, but there was nowhere to go. “You listen to me, Bad Luck Girl.” It stretched its glowing mouth out into a thin, mean grin. “Oh, yeah, I figured out who you are. Didn’t take me long neither. You’d better be real careful from here on in. ’Cause I’m putting the word out on you, and you can bet your last nickel the Halfers are all gonna know which side you’re on.”
    “What …” But the creature flashed back up to the power line. It balanced on the curve of black wire for a second, blazing bright, and then it was gone.

4
The Rock Island Line, She’s a Mighty Good Road
    I hurried back to my parents, mumbling apologies and ignoring Jack’s frantic looks. I stuck to them like glue the whole time we were navigating the Central Station, even though I could barely look at Mama. Every time I did, I saw her face drawn up tight with hurt and anger, and how she kept holding tight to Papa’s hand.
    Getting on the train was