Lies & Omens

looked familiar. Or rather, it looked all-too-familiar—all of the world coated with Erinya’s heaven reaching down to her. Chaotic jungles and lurking predators. Once you were out of the city proper, Miami’s evening air always smelled sweet and salty—night-blooming flowers and the ever-present bite of the sea—but when Sylvie opened her door to get out and open the gate, the air was wet and heavy and rank with crushed vegetation and animal musk.

When she reached for the gate, the iron scrollwork writhed and hissed and drew back after flickering dark, forked tongues over her sweating skin. Sylvie tried not to wince. This was Erinya’s world, her psyche. Like her, it would reward fear with predation.

“Erinya,” Sylvie said. “We’re coming in.”

No response, but a tangle of dark flowers bent slowly toward the distant house. It seemed far more distant than was possible, a tiny glimmer on the horizon instead of a mansion three hundred feet off the road. Sylvie returned to the SUV gratefully. The night felt full of predators.

“Zo, you come up front and hang on to me.” She didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings. Bringing a witch into Erinya’s realm … She wished she had another recourse.

Zoe clambered up, dug her fingers into Sylvie’s arm without protest. Behind them, Merrow lolled in the middle seat he had dropped into, half-conscious, panting with either fear or effort.

“What about him?” Zoe said.

Sylvie wanted him alive, wanted to question him, but if he vanished from the car, if he got sucked out and devoured, she wouldn’t cry.

She wanted answers, but more than that, she wanted Merrow to pay for kidnapping Zoe. Zoe was running on pissed, but whenever she stopped being cranky, Sylvie saw her hands shake, her shoulders tense, her lips bow down in that close-to-tears pout Zoe had had ever since she was a toddler. When this was over, Zoe was going to fall apart, and Sylvie wanted to be able to say, Merrow can never hurt you again because I made him into shark chum.

The driveway warped on them as the SUV hit concrete and brickwork. One heartbeat took them someplace that was bitterly cold with thin, gritty air and a sudden cliff to their left. Erinya’s realm, Sylvie thought, and tried not to jerk the wheel in panicked reaction, and the next heartbeat saw her slamming on the brakes just before they impacted with Val’s front door.

Sylvie felt Zoe’s tourniquet grip on her arm, patted her fingers in relief, and turned to see if Merrow had made it. He had, though his eyes showed white all around the irises.

She couldn’t blame him. There was basic god leakage, and then there was this. A remodeling that rearranged space and time. Erinya wasn’t even trying to restrain herself. Couldn’t be.

Erinya’s presence in Miami was no doubt making the Good Sisters work overtime on the memory spell. Might be why it seemed to be the hardest-hit city.

Lupe opened the side door of the SUV, and Zoe bit back comment though her eyes widened, and her grip on Sylvie’s arm tightened at the sight of Lupe. Sylvie felt her own breath catch. Lupe was stuck, seemingly midchange. Her skin was rippled with brightly patterned scales; her legs were … gone. She moved forward on a thick, snake tail, and the hand that held open the SUV door had talons that were leaving gouges in the metal.

“Coming out?” she said.

“Yeah,” Sylvie said.

“Fuck no,” Merrow said. He clung to the seat. “You kill me now, Shadows, and leave me out of this freak show of yours—”

A second later, he was torn from the SUV, dragged inside the house, and—by the time Sylvie scrambled to follow—gutted across the foyer, his blood wet and scarlet and dripping over Val’s pale Italian marble. Erinya, in fury-god form, pawed at the remains. Lupe, hot-eyed, stared at the mess and tucked her coiled tail tighter to avoid the blood.

Zoe, on the doorstep, shrieked, turned to run, remembered the world-warp outside, and pressed up against Sylvie instead. Sylvie put an arm over her shoulders, and said, “Bring him back, Erinya. We need to question him. We need him to find Yvette.”

“He was rude,” Erinya said. “He came into my house, and he was rude to my chosen. I won’t. Find another way.”

“What, like sticking a pin in a map? Here be witches?”

Erinya lashed her tail, turned, and disappeared into the recesses of Val’s house. Erinya’s house, now; it bore little to no resemblance to Val’s art deco mansion.

The marble floor, now drinking in Merrow’s blood and bone, was the only thing left of Val’s once-open foyer. The ceiling was close and stony, like the mouth of a cave. It led toward darker areas behind it, one swallowing Erinya’s angry form. Sylvie stared after her, kicked at an encroaching vine. It snapped at her, and she shivered.

Lupe grimaced. “Sorry, Sylvie. I’ll see if I can talk her ’round.”

“Hey,” Sylvie said, grabbing Lupe’s arm. “Are you all right?”

“Fine, why?”

Sylvie gestured up and down, meaning You’re half snake, a little reluctant to just come out and say it if Erinya was feeling that touchy.

“Oh. We’re trying out monster shapes,” Lupe said. “I keep changing. Eri says she can at least make it into a monster I like. At least in this shape, I keep control of my mind, if not my body. That’s something, isn’t it?”

Sylvie nodded. “That’s a lot. How’s Alex?”

“Sleeping, last I checked. I’ll go tell her you’re back.” She moved off, surprisingly graceful as she swayed and slithered through the cavernous hallways.

“Jeez,” Zoe said. She hadn’t moved from the doorway, her arms wrapped tight around herself.

“You doing all right?” Sylvie said.

Zoe stared at her shoes, at the splatter pattern Merrow’s blood had made. “These were brand-new. And expensive. An entire month’s allowance worth. And look what she’s done to Val’s house! She could at least clean up after herself. Val’s going to be peeved.”

Zoe was fine. Displacing her anxiety every which way, but coping.

“Syl,” Zoe said, catching her as Sylvie started after Erinya and Lupe. “Wait.”

“We’re kind of on a deadline,” Sylvie said. “Yvette has Demalion. I’d like to get him back before he goes all Stockholm Syndrome and remembers he used to date her. Or hell, until she makes him forget they’re on different sides.”

“She’ll be too busy keeping the Corrective running smoothly to do much with him.”

“With the what?”

Zoe shrugged, took a step farther into the house. “You seem to forget I’ve spent the last two months in witch central. I get to study spells, not do them. Val’s idea of teaching is setting the kid down with the Encyclopedia Britannica. So take that, and then stuff me in with a bastard like Merrow who likes to hear himself talk.” She shuddered, and her gaze went opaque, distant.

“Your point,” Sylvie prodded.

Zoe jerked back to the now with a sigh of relief. “So I know what spell Yvette and the Society’s using —”

“The Corrective? Sounds like white-out.”

“Same effect. It’s a seriously complicated spell. First done in the late 1800s. The Society pioneered it. I couldn’t believe it when Merrow started bragging about it—saying he could keep me for a pet, that you’d never remember that I was missing. Crazy complicated spell with really exotic ingredients.”

“How exotic? Can we track them through the ingredients?”

Zoe shook her head. “Not the kind of ingredients you can buy. I still can’t believe they resurrected it … it’s such a tricky spell. It requires so much manpower to really be effective.”

Sylvie leaned against the wall—damp, rough-cut stone instead of white wallpaper—and considered her sister. “All right. I want to hear all about this spell. First, though. You know how to break it?”

Zoe raised her palm, made a maybe–maybe not seesaw, and noticed a smear of blood on her skin. “I want a wash. You think the bathrooms are still in existence?”

“Zo!”