Evie is flat on her back on her bed, listening to the sound of Jacob pacing back and forth on top of the train. He does that now, almost every night—Evie isn't sure when he'd last slept. Maybe that's another gift of the wings, Jacob's ability to keep going, night after sleepless night. She hopes so, because if he still has a human need for sleep, he might just drop dead of exhaustion one of these days.

Henry comes in and sits next to Evie on the bed. "He's up there again, isn't he?" he asks.

"Yes," Evie says.

For a moment they are silent. Jacob's footsteps are quiet above them, but they can still hear him.

"I should go talk to him," Evie says.

"Again?" Henry asks. His hand finds hers on the bed and he squeezes gently. "Evie, you've done nothing but talk to him since he's come back. It hasn't helped."

"I know." Because Jacob's been distant, almost unreachable, ever since they killed Starrick together. She wants her brother back, but it's like he's gone somewhere she just can't reach. "But what if… I might find the right words this time. I might be able to help him—"

"But you can't take the wings away," Henry says.

Evie flinches but nods. It's killing her, that the wings she has always wanted are hurting her brother so badly. "This isn't how things were supposed to go," Evie says. "It was supposed to be me." And all her life, she'd thought that meant she was better than him. The better assassin, the better person even. Now she just wishes she could take his pain, and bear it herself instead.

"You've tried everything," Henry says. "I know you have. But Evie… maybe he just needs time."

"He had time," Evie says. "He had time while he was on his own, he had nothing but time."

She pushes herself off the bed, and is halfway out the door by the time Henry calls her back. "Evie!"

"I have to talk to him," Evie says. "I'm sorry, Henry, but I have to go talk to Jacob."

"Evie—"

"Just one more time," she says, and she knows even as she says it that it's stupid, Jacob's not going to magically spring back to his old self, she'll never find exactly the right words. But she has to keep trying, she has to. If she ever stops, she'll be as broken as Jacob.

And Henry knows it. "Good luck," he says. "I'll be here. When you come back."

Evie nods and goes up to the roof—Jacob is on the other end, facing away from her. He's stopped pacing, at least for the moment, and Evie pauses to just look at him for a minute. He looks no different than he had the night before, no better and no worse.

"Jacob," she calls, and this time he remembers to put on a smile before turning around.

"Hey, Evie," he says, and—is Evie imagining it, or does he seem more eager than usual as he walks toward her and drops down to sit at her side? Evie joins him, in what is rapidly becoming her habitual position next to him.

"Can't sleep again?" she asks. It's her usual opening salvo, and she knows Jacob will answer with a casual nah, not really tired and leave her fumbling for something else to keep the conversation going. It's been a month since he's come home. Thirty days, and they've had this conversation thirty times. Evie intends to keep having it until something changes.

And today, something does.

"Could if I wanted to," Jacob says, and his voice is thick with exhaustion.

"But… you don't want to?"

Jacob glances sideways at her, huddled up under the shadow of his wings. There are bags so thick and heavy under his eyes that Evie wonders how he manages to keep them open. "Nightmares."

Evie struggles with this for a moment. This is more than Jacob has shared with her since he's come home, and Evie doesn't want to speak quickly and ruin the little bit of progress it represents. "Do you want to talk about them?" she asks at last.

He's going to say no. Evie's ready for him to say no.

"I'm not supposed to be here," Jacob says.

Evie gapes at him, surprised and hurt. She wishes he'd just said no. "Yes you are," she says. "You belong here. With me."

"I know," Jacob says, and he sounds incredibly frustrated. "I know! But there's… something. I don't know. There's something in me that wants to go… somewhere." He drops his head into his hands, the very picture of misery.

"South for the winter, maybe?" Evie asks. It's a poor attempt at a joke. In happier times, Jacob would have booed her, and probably spent the next several weeks reminding her how poor her sense of humor is. Today, he just shrugs.

"Dunno," he says. "Guess it's possible, the way things are now."

"Jacob…" Evie bites her lip. "I was joking."

"I know," Jacob says. "Wrong time of year for that. And anyway, it… feels different. And when I sleep, I have these dreams."

Evie waits as he struggles.

"I can't exactly remember them," Jacob says. "But I'm dreaming about—about somewhere, and I have to go there—"

"Where, Jacob?"

For a second he doesn't look at her. Then he raises his head, and his eyes are oddly vacant. "Avalon."

"What?" Evie frowns and—when Jacob doesn't answer—nudges him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jacob blinks and shakes his head. "What's what supposed to mean?"

"Avalon."

"What's that?"

The circuity of this conversation is getting annoying. "I don't know," Evie says, doing her best to stay patient. "You're the one that said it."

"Evie—" Jacob looks genuinely baffled. "I didn't say anything."

"But you did," Evie insists. "I heard you, Jacob."

For a long moment they're both silent, watching one another with the same expression, like they're both expecting the other to laugh and admit they're joking. Neither does, and the train thunders on below them until Evie tires of the silence. She bids Jacob goodnight, and goes back down to the bed where she knows Henry will have fallen asleep waiting for her.

But she is hopeful tonight, because at least she has somewhere to start, something to look into. And if she can figure out where this place is, maybe she can figure out why Jacob is being… called there. And if they know why, maybe he'll be able to sleep again. And once he's sleeping, maybe he'll be less worried, less upset—

Evie curls up at Henry's side and closes her eyes, but her mind is racing. Above them, Jacob's footsteps go back to pacing, and then stop abruptly. Something large and winged shoots past the window—Jacob, going for his usual nightly flight. It's the only time it's safe enough to do so. Daylight makes his wings stand out too much. Evie doesn't worry about him, or at least no more than usual. Maybe even less. She has a lead, at last. Something to look for, something that might actually help.

Avalon.