“Fine,” I said. “Do you want to get a jacket first?” I could bolt for the door while she did. She hated porting. If I ported to Conventicles Crossing, she’d never catch up. “It’s cold.”
“It’s boiling.”
“It’s forty degrees.”
“Boiling.”
All right, maybe shewasan Aspirant. She didn’t appear in pain, and I never saw her drinking moonale, but maybe she experienced withdrawals differently. Maybe, for her, it was only a short temper, or that her internal temperature was elevated. Maybe.
We left, Nova staying behind.
It came as no surprise when I pointed my transmitter up at the dark sky, flashlight on, and lit up the scrying orb. I sprinted away, knowing it would follow. This time, I hoped itwasa Mentalist and not Leland. And I hoped that Mentalist woke up Farrah Prolix when they realized where I was going.
Town was dead asleep, and the streetlamps burned too low for me to make out anything farther than a few feet ahead, which was good. Posters from Helen’s Anti-Human Initiative were everywhere, and I preferred not to look at them.
At Varanus Street, Skye said, “Time to cross.”
I kept running toward the Allwitch temple, slowing only to sit in front of the fence, as close as I could get without entering the forbidden area. Skye paced up and down on the other side of the street as I took my time stretching a leg. I focused on the fog my breath made, lifting the next leg to the spiked iron fence, reaching past my heel.
“Wow.” Skye was less than impressed. “So flexible. The most limber. Can we do this literally anywhere else?”
I did the other leg again. “Go ahead,” I said, and bent my knee back, grabbing my ankle to stretch my quad.
Andbingo. High-heeled shoes clipped down the cobblestone.
I sped off, jogging across the street as Farrah followed for what I was sure she thought was going to be the day’s cover story. But I made a right turn, running up the steps of therighttemple, the Echelons’ temple, where Aunt Sinora said my sister had prayed.
There, I knelt before a marble statue of the Goddess. I stayed until sunrise, well after the bright flash of photography, and after Farrah Prolix left in a huff. Skye waited quietly on the steps as I asked the Goddess to protect my sister and help Leland with his Dark Deal. I even asked Her to tell me why Helen left and if I’d ever make it home.
She didn’t answer, but I left a little lighter, knowing Farrah — at least today — couldn’t run a story about me hating it here, and I’d done something to protect myself.
* * *
In the afternoon, Leland arrived to take me to a club to meet a witch named Aila Foxcross. She worked at Foxcross’s AspiringArtifacts and sold the magic-suppressing wrist cuffs I needed to manage my withdrawals.
“This will go better if you pretend you don’t like me,” Leland said once we left the house. “Aila and I have a complicated relationship, but she’s been in withdrawal before, so she’ll sympathize with you.”
I had no idea if it would be the truth or a lie if I told him I didn’t have to pretend, so I kept the thought to myself, understanding that, when we were in public, he wasn’t the Leland who checked the letterbox and made me calming tea. He was the witch whohandledme.
He set a strict pace — easy and casual for him — that I hustled to keep up with as my exhaustion from not sleeping started to sink in. I would’ve asked him to slow down, but he looked like he needed this, like the cool air slapping him in the face was an outlet for him. He got in moods about his job the way Skye thought I got in moods about Helen; he might not have been stomping and slamming doors, but . . . he was silent, with a closed-off expression.
At the Blacklight club, our transmitters were taken and locked up at the reception desk before we were officially admitted. I shot Leland a look, hoping he’d explain why that precaution was necessary, but he didn’t.
Inside was a sophisticated, wood-paneled space, the kind of place that serves alcohol from crystal decanters, and all the customers I noticed had a dreamy glow about them.
For the most part, everyone minded their own business. Customers kept their eyes on their tables. It was one of the rules we’d been informed of at the door. All communications outside of your immediate party must be initiated through a staff member.
The staff, however, acknowledged Leland like their jobs depended on it. Tight nods of respect, endless offers to get himcoffee, alcohol, and water. No one said anything about the half witch. I wondered if he’d paid them off or if they were afraid of him. Or if this was the kind of place where you simply didn’t ask questions.
“Um, Leland?” I asked as we passed a black marble fireplace and wove around a corner to a back, hidden stairwell. His gaze slid to me. “Is this . . . ?” It was so snug in here, the very atmosphere relaxing me into a feeling of unfolding. It felt like a hug, the walls thickly padded with soundproofing, and something in the air was making my shoulders lighter and my fingers uncurl. “Is this a sex club?”
“You think I’d take you to a sex club?” he asked, leading us down to the cellar.
“I . . .” I glanced around the private cellar. Another luxurious space but with more of a nightclub feel. The walls were ebony wood, and every place to sit was velvet and private. “I don’t know? This place . . .”is doing something to me. I cleared my throat. “It has a vibe? Everyone upstairs was sitting very close, veryromantically. Are you sure this isn’t a sex club?”
“All the furniture here is velvet,” he said, as if that explained things.
“And?” I asked as we sat at a booth in the corner. Leland took the seat facing the stairs while I slid onto the comfortable bench seat perpendicular to him. A tall taper candle melted slowly on the table between us.
