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was Sam. Her face glowed as a mischievous smile rose to her lips. She paused before answering, trying to come across a little less excited than she was. “Hello,” she nearly purred. Ellen leaned toward her, trying to eavesdrop, but Iris gave her a playful push back. “Oh,” she said, the shine leaving her eyes. “No, I understand, I do. Tomorrow—” she began, but her eyebrows fell. I knew that Sam had hung up.
    “Everything all right?” I asked.
    “Yes, of course.” Iris forced a new smile on her face. “Sam was supposed to swing by this evening, but he’s run into some difficulty with work. He’s under quite a bit of pressure right now,” she offered as apology for him when in truth none was owed. I knew she was merely repeating his own words. I had to wonder if things were cooling off, at least on his side.
    Ellen flashed me a look that told me she was wondering the same thing. Iris caught on to our silent conversation. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said, “he’s got a project to finish before the holiday. Don’t go reading anything into it.”
    “Reading nothing into anything,” I said throwing up my hands. “Still, I will shrink his head to the size of a grape if he hurts you.”
    “And I,” Ellen said, “will shrink the part he thinks with.”
    Iris placed her hands on her hips. “No one is shrinking anything. Please remember, I am quite fond of his ‘thought’ process.” I was glad to see she had shaken off the gloom that had descended on her, her false smile making way for a true one. “Everything is wonderful. He’s a bit stressed out. That’s all.” The smile faded as she fixed us with a steely glare. “Now, put that map away, and prepare yourself to face a true horror. Grocery shopping two days before Thanksgiving.”

FOUR
    Abigail pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen. “Actually, if you can spare Mercy, I’d like to borrow her for a bit.” She focused on me. “We appear to be at the point of a breakthrough. I think Maisie is ready to discuss . . . that day.”
    That day . There was no need for Abby to be more specific; she was speaking of the day of the investment, when Maisie was to be installed as an anchor of the line, but instead caused all hell to break loose. Rather than accepting the role everyone believed Maisie had been born to play, she rebelled against the united witch families and handed me over to Jackson to sacrifice. With my death, she had planned to wrest control of the line from the other anchors and secure its magic for herself. I cringed at the memory, doing my best to push it down, set it aside, not let the true weight of what Maisie had put me through touch my heart. In order to welcome Maisie back into my life, I’d been forced to suppress my pain over her grievous betrayals, but seeing it all spread back out before me reminded me I had a lot to forgive Maisie for.
    Jackson had harbored his own ideas, intending to double-cross Maisie and steal the line’s magic for his own purposes. He planned to use it to free his boo hag buddies from the dimension where they had been trapped since the line’s creation. Things didn’t work out the way either of them had expected, though. For some reason, Maisie faltered at the last moment, and rather than harming her, the line had shown her clemency, moving her away from our reality to a place where she could work no harm.
    Jilo had warned me against bringing the sister who had tried to kill me back into this world, and the other anchors had forbidden any attempt to locate Maisie, let alone rescue her. My family’s insistence on doing just that was now viewed as the opening volley in what many were calling the “Taylor Rebellion.” Still, the line had protected Maisie rather than punished her. And the line had helped me bring my sister home. I told myself that these points should stand as proof positive that in spite of everything, I was right to believe in her, right to try to find a way to