By the time the firemen arrived, there was little left for them to do. The fire had burned itself out. Inside, they found only a hollow shell littered with melted, twisted wreckage, its roof open to the stars. And no one saw Sayeed Faddoul slip around the corner onto Carlisle and then usher three figures—one enormous, and covered in a tarpaulin—out of the alley and down onto West Street, away from the commotion.
The storage room of the Faddouls’ coffee-shop was small and dark, with barely enough room for the three people inside it. The Blumbergs sat together, dozing, their backs against the burlap sacks of roasted beans. Kreindel sat across from them, awake despite her fatigue. She could still feel Yossele’s rage in some distant part of her mind. It had felt horribly right to him, and thus to her as well: an avenging anger, its very existence its own justification.
The back door opened; footsteps, in the hallway. It was the Faddouls, followed by the three fugitives from the Amherst. Anna and Toby started awake to see the Jinni standing in the doorway, dressed in little more than singed rags. Anna’s eyes widened. “Is it done? Was anyone hurt?”
“It’s done,” the Jinni said. “And no one was hurt.”
“Thank God,” Anna sighed. And then, guardedly: “Where is . . . the other one? Your friend?”
Not his friend, Toby thought.
“She’s gone,” the Jinni said quietly.
“Oh,” said Anna.
Without another word the Jinni withdrew. More footsteps—and then Yossele was there, his glass eyes glinting beneath the tarpaulin.
The Blumbergs stiffened.
Yossele glanced at the doorway: too small for him, the room too tight. Everyone inside that room feared him, for good reason. He walked past, into the coffee-house.
Kreindel went out into the darkened hallway, and found Miss Levy. Soot covered her clothing and streaked her face, giving her a hollow-eyed look.
Kreindel had thought herself too exhausted for tears, but they filled her eyes again. “Miss Levy,” she said, “I don’t know how . . . I can’t. I can’t even think it, or . . .”
The Golem nodded. “I know, Kreindel. It’s all right. I’ll do it.”
In the main room of the coffee-house, Yossele sat between the tables, his head in his hands.
The others had discussed what was about to happen. Sayeed and Maryam stood near the front door, Toby and Anna near the back hallway. All could run, escape, if they needed to. But it felt wrong to simply turn their backs and leave.
Kreindel stood beside the Jinni, trying to keep her mind steady. She pictured the maze, the alcove. Hands, reaching for each other in the dark.
Next to her, the Jinni watched, tense, as the Golem approached Yossele. The locket was in her hand. She looked to the Jinni—his face was unreadable—and put her thumb to the latch.
The locket sprang open. The paper inside was dry and undamaged; it fell into her hand, a tightly folded square. Her mind clamored at her: He is the only other of your kind. Your time together was far too brief. There can be so much more. With effort she pushed it all aside. This was her responsibility. She would put an end to the danger that Yossele had become, just as she would put an end to herself if she thought it necessary.
She opened the first fold of the square—and there on the paper, just before it opened completely, the Jinni had written:
But you deserve life.
She dropped the paper, put a hand to her mouth. A sound like a sob escaped her throat. Blindly she turned away—and he came to her and gathered her tightly in his arms. She closed her eyes, buried her face in his shoulder.
A giant hand plucked the paper from the floor.
For a moment, Kreindel thought Yossele would tear it to shreds. But he merely cupped the paper in his palm, like something precious: a blossom, an egg. He reached out, offered it to Kreindel.
“No, Yossele,” she whispered. “Not me.”
In the Jinni’s arms, the Golem trembled as Yossele fought against his master’s wishes. Slowly the giant, grave head nodded. Yes. You.
The girl wiped the tears from her face. She looked around the room: at Toby and his mother, at the Faddouls. People whom she barely knew, but who’d shown her more kindness in the last few hours than anyone had in years. And now, they were trusting her to make the right choice.
The girl lifted the paper from Yossele’s hand. She opened the first fold, and then the second. She read the Hebrew letters there, the words that the Jinni remembered writing as though they’d been dragged from his soul. The Golem’s face was still pressed to his shoulder—but he knew that she’d feel it all. She had no choice. She couldn’t turn away from that weight. And so he decided that he wouldn’t turn away, either. He’d learn to bear what he could.
Kreindel folded the paper again, slipped it into her pocket. Tears still dotted her lashes, but now her expression was composed, steady. All the sadness, it seemed, belonged to Yossele, who sat with his rough head bowed, staring at the floor. She stepped closer and embraced him, her arms around his shoulders. Her lips went to his ear; he tilted his head, as though listening to a secret.
With a sound like skittering leaves, Yossele came apart. Each piece of him crumbled bit by bit, dissolving into what it once had been. Within moments, there was only a mound of earth, rich and fragrant with spring.
Kreindel stood alone, weeping.
Epilogue
Friday, 7 May 1915
NARRAGANSETT, RHODE ISLAND
Shouts. Human voices. The sound of rushing water.
The world lurched, listed sideways.
Panicking, the jinniyeh broke free from the box where she’d stowed herself and flew from the injured ship. The ocean
