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“You could just hold his hand,” Neysa said.

“I could also throw myself into a cactus.”

“That seems less pleasant.”

“Emotionally?”

“Jury’s out.”

Back at Guy’s house, Carrick made me recount everything. Not the cute summary version. Not “fog got weird, light appeared, I made questionable choices.” Every stinking detail.

Where I had been. What I had seen. The fog. The light. The ice-curtain feeling. What Neysa had felt.

“Well,” I said. “First, I painted the place.”

Silence dropped over the room.

Guy stared at me. “You what?”

I explained the Chihuahuan Desert, the canvas, and how the painting had changed beneath my hands into a warped ghost town with cages and a strange glowing sphere. I had thought it was artistic inspiration. I had even decided it would make a killer Halloween series, because apparently my subconscious liked foreshadowing with seasonal branding.

“You painted Arrhythmia before you crossed the Wards?” Carrick asked.

“Apparently my subconscious has boundary issues.”

“I told you it was strange,” Neysa said.

“You also complained about not having opposable thumbs. Your credibility fluctuates.”

Carrick’s voice sharpened. “We have been asking why the Wards allowed Maisie inside. Now we must also ask how she was receiving information from inside Arrhythmia before she ever crossed them.”

“The Wards recognized me because of my father,” Bernie said. “We know why they let me through.” Her gaze shifted to me. “We don’t know what they recognized in you.”

Knox went still when Carrick added, “A lure is one possibility. It is not the only one.”

“Don’t,” I said.

Knox looked at me. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Your face did.”

“He’s got a very loud face,” Hank said.

Guy sighed. “Runs in the family.”

Carrick wanted the original painting.

“Well, there's a problem.”

Knox's attention sharpened. “What problem?”

“I left it.”

The room went quiet.

“Before I followed the light, I threw on my backpack and left the easel where it was. The painting was still on it.”

Guy frowned. “Outside the Wards?”