Page 66 of Gone Hunting

The circle Dad created glows with faint light, solidifying thecall,but then, nothing. He looks up at us. “Mimi,” he bellows. “I summon thee. Appear.”

Again, he slams his foot. Again, the circle glows with that faint light. But that’s it.

“Something’s wrong,” Mom says, standing.

Dad edges away from the circle, watching it as if expecting answers within the space.

He looks up at Celia, his expression wrought with worry. “Celia,” he says. “What day is it?”

“Sunday,” Celia offers.

“No,” Dad says. “It’s Wednesday.”

I don’t like his tone. Not for a simple mistake like this. My heartbeat pounds in miserable and angry strikes. “She lost track of the days, that’s all,” I reason.

Dad abandons the circle completely, walking slowly toward us and stopping in front of Celia. “Child,” he says, trying to keep his voice calm. “How old are you?”

“I’m fifteen, sir.”

Dad sighs, appearing relieved. “And what time of year is it?”

“Summer, sir. Almost fall.”

Panic threatens to choke me. “Celia,” I say, carefully. “It’s May.”

Her eyes widen and she releases my hand, stepping away.

“Don’t,” I say. “It’s okay.”

She startles when she bumps into Mom. Mom holds her gently. “Aidan?” Mom says. “What’s happening?”

My dad closes his eyes and releases a long breath. When he opens them, he’s not any less fearful. “Child,” he says to Celia. “What year is it?”

My stomach bottoms out when Celia answers two years from now. “She’s just confused,” I interrupt. “We fought a skinwalker and those scorpions. She could have hit her head.”

“I didn’t hit my head, Aric,” Celia replies. “You know I didn’t.”

Yeah. I do. But this . . . this is so wrong.

I walk away, dragging my hand through my hair. I don’t understand what’s happening, but I recognize things are worse than I could have imagined.

Mom smooths Celia’s hair, trying to reassure her when Dad tells her the year.

“What?” Celia asks, close to tears. “How am I here in the past? In a season and place very different from my own?”

“Because you don’t belong here,” Mimi croaks behind us. “Not now. Not with Aric.”

Mimi sits in the circle, her cloak dripping with blood and pieces of red-soaked plumage stuck in her hair. Her face is bruised and she’s clutching her limp arm against her chest.

Dad jets to Mimi’s side, lifting her and placing her small, damaged body on the couch.

Mom covers Mimi with a blanket, carefully examining her broken arm. Mimi’s breathing is shallow, and her skin is the color of her gray, crooked teeth. The hysterical and psychotic cackles so associated with her personality are notably absent, as is the insane amount of power that marks her as a formidable hag.

I barely get the words out. “What happened?”

Mimi manages to speak, but the effort costs her. She grimaces in pain. “I told you they’d come after the tigress and anyone linked to her.” She smiles. “They found me first and now, they come for the rest.”

Celia clutches my arm. “Aric, that means they’ll go after Gemini, Liam, and Koda.”

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