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say.”
    “You never know. Books are around for lots of reasons. As is Mrs. English.” She yanked another stack of scrolls into her lap. “Here. What about this one?” She pulled open a dusty scroll, smoothing it with her hands. “It’s not a Cast. It’s more like a meditation. To help your mind focus, as if you were a monk.”
    “I’m not a monk. And I’m not any good at meditating.”
    “Clearly. But it wouldn’t hurt you to try. Come on, focus. Listen.”
    She leaned over the parchment scroll, reading aloud. I read along over her shoulder.
“In death, lie.
    In living, cry.
    Carry me home
    to remember
    to be remembered.”
    The words hovered in the air, like a strange silvery bubble. I reached out to touch them, but they faded out of sight as quickly as they had appeared.
    I looked at my mom. “Did you see that?”
    My mom nodded. “Casts are different in this world.”
    “Why isn’t it working?”
    “Try it in the original Latin. Here. Read it for yourself.” She held the paper closer to the torch, and I leaned toward the light.
    My voice shook as I said the words.
“Mortuus, iace.
    Vivus, fle.
    Ducite me domum
    ut meminissem
    ut in memoria tenear.”
    I closed my eyes, but all I could think about was how far I was from Lena. How her curling black hair twisted in theCaster breeze. How the green and the gold flecks lit her eyes, as bright and dark as she was.
    How I’d probably never see her again.
    “Oh, come on, EW.”
    I opened my eyes. “It’s no use.”
    “Concentrate.”
    “I’m concentrating.”
    “You’re not,” she said. “Don’t think about where you are now. Don’t think about what you’ve lost—not the water tower or anything that came after it. Keep your head in the game.”
    “I am.”
    “No, you’re not.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Because if you were, you wouldn’t be standing here. You would be halfway home, with one foot back in Gatlin.”
    Would I? It was hard to imagine.
    “Close your eyes.”
    I closed them obediently.
    “Repeat what I say,” she whispered.
    In the silence, I heard her words inside my mind, like she was speaking aloud to me.
    We were Kelting, my mother and I. In death, from the grave, in a faraway world. It seemed familiar between us, something from long ago, something we had lost.
    Carry me home.
    Carry me home
, I said.
    Ducite me domum.
    Ducite me domum
, I said.
    To remember.
    Ut meminissem
, I said.
    And be remembered.
    Ut in memoria tenear
, I said.
    You remember, my son.
    I remember
, I said.
    You will remember.
    I will always remember
, I said.
    I am the one
, I said.
    You will—
    I will—
    Remember…

CHAPTER 6
Silver Button
    I opened my eyes.
    I was standing in the front hallway of Lena’s house. It worked. I had crossed. I was back in Gatlin, in the world of the living. I was overwhelmed with relief; it was still here.
    Gatlin remained. Which meant Lena remained. Which meant everything I’d lost—everything I’d done—hadn’t been for nothing.
    I leaned against the wall behind me. The room stopped spinning, and I lifted my head and looked around at the old plaster walls.
    The familiar flying staircase. The shining lacquered floors.
    Ravenwood.
    The real Ravenwood. Mortal, solid, and heavy beneath my feet. I was back.
    Lena.
    I closed my eyes and fought away the prickling tears.
    I’m here, L. I did it.
    I don’t know how long I stood frozen in place, waiting for a response, like I thought she was going to come running around the corner and into my arms.
    She didn’t.
    She didn’t even feel me Kelting.
    I drew in a deep breath. The enormity of it all was still hitting me.
    Ravenwood looked different than the last time I was here. It wasn’t really a surprise—Ravenwood was always changing—but even so, I could tell from the black sheets hanging over all the mirrors and windows that this time things had changed for the worse.
    It wasn’t just the sheets. It was the way the snow fell from the ceiling, even though I was