main spell, which I still don’t know how to do.”
“I don’t think so,” Zoe said. Her admission dragged out of her. Like Sylvie, she hated to admit when she was in over her head.
“Any ideas on breaking the spell? I mean, if it’s that hard to create, maybe it’s fragile? If I yank out the ingredients?”
“If you yank out the ingredients,” Zoe said, “you’ll be subject to spell backlash. You might just erase your entire mind.”
“So that’s a do-not-recommend approach,” Sylvie said. She hung her head. “Of course, first things first. We have to find them.”
“Well, you know one thing that should help,” Zoe said.
Sylvie thought back, realized, yeah, that Zoe was right. “Wherever they are, there are a hell of a lot of witches present. Enough that they might get noticed.”
“It’s not much, but that kind of word does get around. I could ask Val.”
“It’s something. I’ll take it,” Sylvie said. “Go get your bath.”
“Thank God,” Zoe said, leaped away from the table.
Left alone, Sylvie pushed her sandwich around on her plate under the watchful, swaying blossoms dangling from the ceiling, and wondered what Demalion’s plan was,
Sylvie gritted her teeth. She might grow to hate precognition as much as magic. Life had enough variables as it was. Her hands clenched on her plate.
“Syl?” Alex wandered into the kitchen, frowned at the changes, and sat heavily in the seat Zoe had vacated.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Better,” Alex said, managed a half smile. “Lupe had some Valium. I think she’s grinding it into my coffee. Is there even a coffeepot left here?”
Sylvie sighed. “Yeah. I fucked up there. I should have kicked Erinya back to her realm when Dunne asked. I bet he would have helped. Have you seen the outside world? I could see the changes as soon as I crossed over the water. I don’t know what the worst scenario is. That she’s not trying to control herself, or she is and failing.”
“She saved your life. You were … shot,” Alex said. That newly familiar furrow carved its way down between her brows. Her hands shook. A mug of coffee—smelling strongly of caramel and chocolate, steaming around the edges of the whipped cream—appeared between them, and the tremors in her fingers calmed.
Sylvie blinked. Erinya was, it seemed, committed to keeping Alex happy.
“She saved your life,” Alex repeated, more confidently.
“Yeah, but she marked Demalion’s soul in exchange—oh, fuck, I’m really stupid.”
Alex grimaced. “No. That’s me.”
“Hey!” Sylvie said. She reached across the table, laid her hand over Alex’s thin wrist. “I’ll fix this. I promise. You’ll be as good as new.”
“And Lupe? You going to fix her, too?” Alex wouldn’t meet her eyes, just fiddled with the coffee cup until it slopped over her fingers.
“No,” Sylvie said. “She’s beyond my help.”
Alex looked up. Relief etched her features. “She’s beyond you. But I’m not.”
“Not you,” Sylvie said. “You going to drink that?”
Alex shook her head. “It’s a vicious cycle. I drink coffee, I get caffeinated, I get bored. I try to work. My brain collapses. I panic. Lupe gives me drugs. I get exhausted. I nap. I drink coffee to push away the drugs.”
“You want a research project?” Sylvie suggested it tentatively. It might make things worse. Might give her something to hang on to.
Alex bit her lip, bit hard. The skin immediately around her teeth paled until it matched the enamel. “I don’t know.”
“Shouldn’t interfere with any of the blocks—”
Alex winced.
“We need a new office space.”
“What happened to ours? Did I forget that, too?”
“Nope. Just happened. Burned down.” Her throat felt oddly tight as she remembered it. Her office hadn’t been much—overexpensive to rent, and outdated within—but it had been hers.
“Fuck,” Alex said. “I don’t remember where the insurance papers are. Syl. We had insurance, right? I’m not…
“Yeah,” Sylvie said. “It’s okay. Try not to think about the past, huh? Think about the future. That’s safe.”
“For how long?”
“Should be okay for a while,” Sylvie said. “Apparently the magic works by dispersal, and that agent’s been splattered—”
Alex shook her head fiercely. “Stop. Stop. Stop it!”
Sylvie shut up, watched Alex fight her own mind.
Lupe arrived, two-legged, mostly human, barefoot, and comfortable wandering around on a jungle carpet; the vines parted for her, caressed her legs as she walked. “Eri says you’re upsetting Alex. Stop it.”
“I got the memo,” Sylvie said. She pushed away from the table, smelled blood and char and sweat on her skin as movement stirred the air around her. Zoe had the right idea. Bath. And then?
Yvette.
“Alex,” Sylvie said. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You reminded me of something very important.”
“Okay,” Alex said. She sounded like a little girl interacting uncertainly with an adult. It made Sylvie brittle with anger. Sylvie left Lupe caring for her with the sort of dispassionate efficiency that med students seemed to learn early on.
Erinya owned Demalion’s soul. Even the best spell in the world couldn’t hide him from her. Where Demalion was … Yvette and the Ebbinghaus Corrective.
Sylvie couldn’t wait.
14
Sisterhood
SYLVIE GOT HALFWAY DOWN THE HALL—NOW, A WINDING STONE tube that looked like it had been bored by a giant serpent—and paused, her first exhilaration fading. Erinya was a double-edged sword. She could find Demalion, but finding Demalion also meant finding the Good Sisters. Sylvie didn’t want Erinya anywhere near them. Erinya hated witches enough that nothing else mattered to her once she was hunting. The airport was proof of that.
Tackling the world’s most malevolent and largest coven might be a lot to handle, but Sylvie thought she was capable of it. With Zoe at her side, with Demalion scouting the way. Even with Marah, should she be inclined to lend her bloody talents. Erinya … she might take out Sylvie’s allies while going after the witches, leaving Sylvie attempting to stop the witches and minimizing Erinya’s massive wave of death and destruction.
Sylvie U-turned, went back toward the sound of running water, and stepped inside the changed bathroom. Zoe, sitting in a small pond beneath another waterfall, jerked, and said, “What? You can’t tell me I’m using all the hot water, because I don’t think there is any. Or, apparently, any privacy.” She sank lower in the water.
“Sorry,” Sylvie said. She crouched down near the pool, said, “Look. I need your help. I need you to do something for me.”
