Someone stronger could have given Kaden luck enough to sustain him. Someone bolder would have sought him out direct, instead of tiptoeing around with spirits and charms. Someone who was not Qebhet might have seen this disaster before it could engulf him and his brothers and Marcie and Hecate.
But that wasn't what Genesis was asking. Qebhet screwed her eyes shut briefly and tried to focus her mind on the warmth radiating through the pita's waxed-paper wrapper, on Genesis' hand on her forearm, on the wood slats of the bench against her back and the pavement under her feet. "I don't know," she admitted. "I can't reach her. She was meant to text every day. There's no one, no one else..." The helplessness stung her eyes, and she blinked furiously to chase away the tears that threatened to well up.