‘Do we even need to do anything?’ Hafsah mused. ‘I mean, don’t you kind oflikehow you feel right now? Calm, kind, good? Like, I just want to reach over and hug you. Usually I would be mentally critiquing your every word, as well as every aspect of your physical appearance. So maybe, if we keep on top of it, and we never run out of blood . . . we could just live like this? As genuinely good people? And perform the ritual once a month? I’m already a weirdo, by most standards. What’s one more insane habit?’
The thought was so briefly and viscerally appealing that it took my breath away, but at the same time, I knew it was wrong. It was so deeply irresponsible, and potentially dangerous.
The darkness would always come back to us, and what then? What if we messed up our doses? What if we couldn’t find any moths one month? What if our blood sources dried up? The risks were too high. I told Hafsah as much.
‘Besides,’ I added, ‘I feel like . . . there’s more to all of this. That it’s linked to the North Tower murders, and to Poppy.’ I thought of the rubies in Lottie’s throat and shuddered.
Hafsah said, ‘I guess you’re right. So you want to find a way to reverse the ritual. You know those pages of the book are missing, right? I already looked.’
‘Not just those pages,’ I said grimly. ‘The whole book is gone. I couldn’t find it last time I went searching. You didn’t take it, did you?’ Hafsah shook her head. ‘Okay, so we need to find either another copy of the book or the original author. The answers have to be somewhere.’
Hafsah sighed and nodded. ‘Where do we start?’
I climbed to my feet, sending the murder of crows resting on a nearby branch flapping up into the canopy. ‘Fancy taking a road trip?’