“I don’t want to be a murderer, but you made me one,” Tess says. Inez thrashes for a moment, her black cloak and skirts ballooning out around her. Tess reaches for my hand. “I think the Lord would forgive me this.”

Inez stops thrashing and seems to go still. Immobilized, she bobs there for a moment. Then she sinks like a stone beneath the dark water.

• • •

“Did—did Maura suffer, do you think?” Elena asks.

“No,” I lie, remembering her tears. I wrap my good arm around Elena’s waist. “She was very peaceful, at the end. Like she was going to sleep. And some of her last words were about you. She told me she was wrong about Inez, but that I was wrong about you—that you were good. That you made her want to be better.”

Elena cries harder. “She was good, too. I know she made some terrible mistakes, but—”

“None of that matters now.” I find that I mean it. Maura was no saint, but she was my sister, and in the end she saved me. None of the dozens of ways we hurt each other—big or small—will be what I remember her by.

Tess is crying, too. “I’ll never forgive myself.”

I look down at her. “I love you, and so did she. We both knew that wasn’t you.”

Tess hangs her head, blond curls obscuring her face. “I should have told you about my vision. I was so confused—I thought I was going mad, and I didn’t want you to know. I never once suspected that Lucy—and I couldn’t imagine ever hurting you, but the prophecy—oh!” The realization hits her then. “I thought we could change it. I wanted us to be able to change it.”

“I know.” I let go of Elena and pull Tess toward me, patting her back, wincing at the stinging of my mangled palm.

“We should get you to the infirmary,” Elena says, noticing my makeshift sling. “Mei’s set up a nursing station in a park a few blocks east.”

“Help!” Our heads snap up at Rilla’s shout. I scan the burning shipyard and those still fighting the flames at the tenements, but I don’t see her anywhere. She must be using the amplification trick I used on Finn at the hospital. Was that only this afternoon? It feels a year ago. “Help needed immediately at Seventy-Seventh and River, at the city orphanage.”

I frown. “Surely they’ve evacuated all the children?” That’s only three blocks from the fire. “We should go see what we can do.”

“I don’t suppose I can persuade you to go to the infirmary first?” Elena asks. I shake my head and she sighs. “Stubborn. Just like your sister that way.”

We all smile through our tears, and the three of us dash up the pier and through the street littered with bits of ash and wood and other debris from the shipyard. The three blocks between the tenements and the orphanage are filled with working-class housing that won’t provide much resistance to the flames. The fire engines have moved down the street. Some of the firemen are injured—they’ve got cuts and scrapes across their sooty faces, and wet cloths wrapped around burns on their arms and hands—but they keep working. Some wear handkerchiefs wrapped around the lower halves of their faces to make breathing through the smoke easier.

Rilla stands in the street before a five-story brick building with a silver plaque out front declaring it the NEW LONDON CITY ORPHANAGE #3. She’s directing firemen and bucket brigaders and witches alike to go into the building.

She gives a quick smile when she sees us. “Thank heavens you’re here! Brother Coulter—the headmaster—he’s locked the children in their rooms.”

“Why?” Tess demands.

“Because witches are out here and he thinks we mean to eat them,” Rilla says crisply. She throws up her hands. “Really, he’d rather see them burn than come down into the street with us. We thought they’d been evacuated ages ago, but a fireman went to make sure and—never mind. We’ve got to get them out is the thing. We’ve got witches unlocking the doors and firemen and bucket brigaders knocking them down.”

I eye the orange flames and billowing black smoke headed this way. “Is there time for all that?” I remember the children that Vi floated to safety above the floodwaters. “Could they jump out the windows if we help them down?”

“I’ll buy you as much time as I can.” Tess is squinting up at the night sky. “Can you get me higher? Up on the roof, maybe?”

“Absolutely not!” I’ve lost one sister tonight. I can’t lose two.

“I’m not letting hundreds of children die because I’m too cowardly to put myself in harm’s way,” Tess snaps.

“Cate.” Finn appears at my good arm. A group of Brothers follows him, and for a moment my heart pounds with fear. Are they here to try to arrest us all, now? “What can we do to help?”

“See if there’s a way to get Tess up on the roof so she can get a better view of the fire and try to hold it off until the children are out,” Rilla commands. “Can you and the Brothers do that?”

“Sure.” A lanky blond man with a green silk cravat wrapped around his sooty face nods and charges into the building. “Let’s go, gentlemen!”

Tess follows them, but I hang back. “Those are all Brothers?”

Finn gives me a sheepish grin. “Your father and I went to two of the inns where most of us are housed during the council meeting. Lots of men wanted to help when they heard how bad things were getting and how badly we needed more manpower. The rest are fighting the fire a few blocks over.”

I’m stunned—and a little ashamed of myself for it. Of course not all Brothers would sit back and cackle in glee while the river district burnt. They can’t all be monsters.

“They aren’t—?” I swallow. “They don’t object to our magic?”

“Not right now.” Finn shrugs. “Or if they do, they’re not saying so.”

“Cate, I need you,” Rilla says.

“Go. I’ll look after Tess,” Finn promises.

Rilla amplifies her voice again. “Children! Children inside the orphanage, look out the west windows. Can you see me?” Small faces press against the windowpanes, and she waves at them with a freckled grin. “Don’t be frightened. There are firemen coming to help you. And the witches are helping, too. Don’t pay any mind to what silly Brother Coulter told you. Those of you on the fifth floor—we want you to open your windows. Can you do that?” A few windows inch up tentatively. “Open them farther. All the way! Now, I want to see, who’s the bravest person on the fifth floor? I want you to lean out the window and wave at me.”

Immediately, a girl with blond pigtails leans out one window in the south wing, waving, and in the north wing, a dark-haired boy flaps both hands. Elena and I dash beneath their windows and wave back. “Hmm. I don’t know which of you is braver,” Rilla muses. “Let’s find out. These are my friends Cate and Elena. If you jump, they’ll use their magic to help you land safely. Haven’t you always wondered what it would be like to fly? Whoever jumps first wins.”

The boy hesitates. It must sound positively mad, asking them to jump five stories and trust witches—whom they’ve no doubt been taught to hate and fear—to catch them. But the pigtailed girl pushes her window up and climbs onto the wide windowsill. She wears a navy dress and white pinafore and she can’t be more than ten. “Here I come!” she shouts.