Lies & Omens

“I don’t know! I mean, my books were all about how to make it work, not how to take it apart. Seriously, Syl. I’ve got blood all over me, and it’s getting gummy. I really really really want a bath. If you don’t let me go, I think I might cry. Or scream. Or have the breakdown I deserve. Tell me the bathrooms are still here. And not all … jungly.”

“Lupe wouldn’t let Erinya remove all the modern conveniences. Hopefully.”

“Lupe. That’s the… Zoe checked herself, shot nervous glances around the foyer. “She’s the person who answered the door?”

“Yup. Under a curse,” Sylvie said.

“Your client?”

“Go shower, Zoe. And be quick about it. Miami’s falling apart around our ears.”

“It’ll be a little bit more stable now that Merrow’s dead,” Zoe said. “He was the dispersal focus for the memory spell. People in Miami won’t remember what they’ve forgotten, but they won’t forget any more. Not until she gets another disperser here.”

“He was part of the spell?”

“Why do you think he kept me in Miami? He wanted to take me to Yvette, one more witch for her spellwork, but he couldn’t leave.”

“Definitely need to talk,” Sylvie said.

“Definitely need to bathe!”

Lupe came back into the foyer, wrinkled her nose at the mess. Sylvie wished she thought it was distaste distorting her features, but it looked more like a cat scenting something interesting.

Sylvie shuddered, wondering if she’d roll in it.

“Alex is awake,” Lupe said.

“How is she?” Sylvie hesitated. This past week had been nothing but one horror after another. Still, nothing compared to sitting beside a frantic and crying Alex, unable to help her. She wasn’t eager to revisit that sensation.

“Awake. Calm. Confused. Erinya’s going to see what she can do.”

“Don’t do anything!” Zoe said, jerking to a halt.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t think Furies are good at delicate wetwork. She could probably yank out the spell, but then what? The memories go with it,” Zoe said. “Because if you break the memory spell—which is what you’re planning to do, right?—You want Alex’s memories to come back. You have the Fury fuck around in her head, try to fix things, then the restore won’t work as well. Because it won’t be a spell releasing things back to normal. It’ll be a spell beneath another spell. Her memories might not come back. If you wait, if you break the spell, you win them all back.”

“Lupe, tell Eri to hold off. Zoe, with me.”

“But … but … bath!”

“It can wait. I need spell info. Now.”

Zoe started to protest, and Sylvie grabbed her arm and dragged her toward what had been Val’s kitchen. It was still a kitchen. Sort of. In some vague Erinya concept of a kitchen. There was a fire pit, nestled close to Val’s slickly modern fridge. Vines carpeted the floor, as treacherous underfoot as slick cables, but sweet-smelling. There was a waterfall sliding down one wall, clear and cold and disappearing at both ends. A misty rainbow shimmered beneath the fluorescent lighting.

Zoe and Sylvie stared at the room, and said, “Freaky,” at the same moment.

Sylvie poked at the table and chairs—rough-cut wood, carved with flowers. They seemed real and sturdy and most importantly, not inclined to kill them. She pushed Zoe into the closest seat, leaned back against the table, and said, “Talk.”

Zoe pushed her hair out of her face, remembered she had Merrow bits on her, and grimaced. “Ebbinghaus’s Corrective.”

“Sounds like patent medicine.”

“Eh. The Good Sisters were trying to keep a low profile. I mean, it sounds innocuous, right? Like their name? All their spells are like that. The Helpful Cat. Serena’s Trained Crow—both of those are spying spells, by the way. The Helpful Cat can also be used to start fires, remotely.”

“That what Merrow hit us with?”

Zoe shook her head. “That was just Pyrokinesis 101. Blow shit up. Coax all the heat in the air to coalesce in one spot. It’s why he had to do one wall at a time. Burns really hot, but it burns out really fast. A little like balefire.”

Sylvie said, “Zo. Trust me. That was nothing like balefire. I’ve seen balefire.”

Zoe blanched. “You should be dead. How the hell did you—”

“Erinya,” Sylvie said. “Long story. The Corrective.”

Zoe stared at her, looking worried, looking impressed and Sylvie tapped her nails against the table. “Zoe, sooner you talk, sooner you get your bath.”

“Okay, okay. Yeah. The Good Sisters, which you know, isn’t all women, right?”

“Merrow being one of them tipped me off. Continue.”

“So it’s kind of chicken and egg. Whether the Society decided to keep the Magicus Mundi their secret first, or whether they gained the ability to do so first. Doesn’t really matter—”

“Then stop telling me about it!”

“Whatever. You’re being a total bitch, Syl. I’ve had a terrible day and I want a bath and I saved you from Merrow and he’s dead and I should be glad but I’m just grossed out. And I want a bath!” Zoe’s breathing was harsh; her hands clawed at the table.

Sylvie closed her eyes and reminded herself that she’d pushed enough for the moment. Now she had to be patient. Let Zoe regain her composure, her pride—those were what kept her running, as essential to her as rage was to Sylvie. She got up and rummaged through the refrigerator, still thankfully holding human-style food. She made roast beef sandwiches, heavy on the horseradish and mustard, and tried not to think about Demalion’s sitting in her apartment kitchen, tasting foods to see if Wright’s taste buds made a difference.

He’d be all right. He’d used his precognition to ensure it. He had a plan. He was just waiting for her to do her part.

“So at first it was like, conceptual? They weren’t sure the spell would work? But it did. Honestly, from everything I hear from Val, what I heard from Merrow—I didn’t think they could do it again. I think it was like a desperate experiment that went right. That kind of lightning striking twice? The Society has to have been throwing witches at it for ages trying to make it work again. Val said it was a one-time spell when I asked about it. She said there wasn’t a coven alive that could get it running again.”

“Val’s wrong this time.” Sylvie slid a sandwich Zoe’s way, settled down at the table with her own.

Zoe peeled back the bread, wrinkled her nose at it. “I’m not sure it’s healthy to eat when I’ve got blood —”

“Don’t eat brain bits, don’t get kuru,” Sylvie said. “You’ll be fine.”

Zoe gave her that same startled expression, appalled and awed at once. “You eat a lot of meals with blood on you?”

“Some,” Sylvie said. “Eat when you can. So, they got this uber-difficult spell up and running again. How does it work?” She took a bite of her sandwich, found herself taking a second and third bite even as the horseradish brought tears to her eyes. “Like some type of pyramid scheme? People passing it down as needed?”

“More like feed the bits they don’t want people to remember into it. Tells the spell what to reach out and erase.”

“And the dispersal agents?”

Zoe squirmed in her seat, something she’d always done when she wanted to know the answer and didn’t.

“Best guess?”

“I think they carry something away? And it helps focus the Corrective better? Makes it work faster. Stronger.” She sounded more certain by the end of it.

Sylvie groaned. “Does that mean we have to hunt down each of the … dispersal witches after we break the