A deep blue is steadily seeping back into the door behind them.
“Cliffton, can you believe it? Come on, we’re heading to town!” Will’s friend Carter yells, slowing the car at the sight of us. “Hop in!”
Eliza and Beas open the back door, and Thom and George jump onto the bumper. But Will doesn’t join them. Instead he extends a hand out to George.
“It’s over,” he says.
“It’s over,” George repeats, and they shake.
“You coming, Will?” Carter yells.
“I have to get home.” Will takes off in a sprint.
I slam the car door and run after him, just like those days when we raced in the snow. With each step and breath I will the Curse to give us back the last thing it took. To let Mrs. Cliffton’s Peace seep back into her as vibrantly as the colors spreading across the doors. Garnet reds and deep blues and even a chartreuse come alive against the morning sky as we run past them.
We reach the bridge. Our reflections shimmer back, dancing across the water. My chest is filling with hope and grief and joy and pride and weariness, each one a light and shadow that seem to come hand in hand, just as the atoning and enhancing Variants were unleashed alongside the Disappearances. The way that hope uses darkness to make itself stronger. The way a Virtue was stolen, and we responded by creating so many more: courage, sacrifice, and love. Little lights blooming into the blackest night.
By the time I catch Will, he’s at the foot of the driveway, wrenching open the heavy gates. I take his arm, and with one final burst of energy we crest the hill, chests heaving.
The Cliffton’s front door has become a forest green.
Miles flings it open and comes running toward us.
“Is—” I gasp. “Mrs. Cliffton . . .”
Miles stops short and looks between Will and me.
“She’s upstairs.” He frowns, confused. “Same as always.”
At his words, my heart falls like a glass shattering.
Will pushes past Miles and runs inside.
“Where were you?” Miles asks. “What’s going on?”
I follow him into the foyer. The house smells like leather-bound books, lavender, fresh bread. “Aila, can you smell it?” Miles demands.
“Yes,” I say. “Come, Miles,” I say softly, and we climb the stairs. I am being pulled toward something else now. Something familiar, but new. “‘Like soft music to attending ears,’” I whisper. The silver sweet sound of Will’s voice.
To hear him means the final Disappearance is ended. The Curse has returned everything it took.
Almost.
The scent of the flowers from Mrs. Cliffton’s room grows stronger with each step down the hall.
“Mother?” Will asks, his voice cracking, when we’ve almost reached the bedroom door.
“William?”
I grab Miles and stop, my heart hovering. The voice I hear is hesitant. It is weak and hoarse from screaming.
“Malcolm?” it asks. “What’s happened?”
But it is hers. My whole chest takes flight.
Malcolm lets out a strangled cry, and still I hold Miles back. I bring my fingers to my lips. “Let them be,” I whisper. Let them revel in getting back what they lost. Their little family, reunited again.
The fear of hope is struggling across Miles’s face. “Is the Curse over?” he asks. I nod as Mrs. Cliffton makes a soft sound that is close to laughter, and Miles’s face breaks into something so radiant it cracks my heart wide open.
