She tackled the dining room, kitchen and study while he dispatched the less-involved living room, basement, stairs and bathroom. She caught up with him as he paused at the threshold of a bedroom on the second floor.
“Here, too?” he asked.
“Everywhere,” she said, moving to the next room with a grim air.
It took longer to get through that level. He found no previously cast spells there, but his eyes started to play tricks on him. Several times he thought he saw a bit of white glinting amid the red in the air near him. Closer inspection always turned up nothing.
The smaller third level, taken up entirely by the late Mr. and Mrs. Harper’s bedroom suite, was even less changed than the rest of the house. Lack of dust proved someone cleaned it regularly, but otherwise it was a time capsule from a period when his future looked dim and Miss Harper’s bright. He demarcated the area, musing about the dramatic U-turns both their lives had taken—though where his was headed did not seem at all promising to him.
A cleared throat. Miss Harper. “Did you find anything downstairs?”
“No. You?”
“Nothing.”
He murmured the spell as she passed by and they worked on opposite ends of the expansive room, backs to each other. The drawers were empty but Mr. Harper’s suits still hung in the closet, and déjà vu gripped him in a chokehold as he got down on his knees to check the back corners for telltale flashes of white. All he needed to complete the trip back in time was a mop.
As if she had somehow read his mind, Miss Harper said, “Mrs. Price confirmed what you said about my mother.”
“You asked her?” he said, startled.
“I had to know.”
He added what he’d said to her about Mrs. Harper to his list of things he wished he could take back—not top of the list, but it had pretty awful competition. What on earth did it gain him to make her see her mother as he did? He imagined her grief battering against him, a physical force, and couldn’t bring himself to look at her. The silence stretched out, horribly, as he tried to find words better than “I’m sorry.”
“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it.” Her voice was sharp with bitterness. “That’s why you made me dream that dream.”
“What?” He got tangled in Mr. Harper’s suits as he tried to stand and had to flail his way free, seeing another glint of white as he swung around. It almost looked as if it was on his chest.“Whatdream?”
“Of you cleaning my parents’ room and overhearing my mother!” she said, turning to face him. “Two nights ago?—”
She broke off, staring at the air between them in open-mouthed surprise. He saw it as well—two twined threads of bright-white magic.
They traveled from his solar plexus to hers.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. She backed away as if she could disconnect herself from him, the line of magic between them getting longer and thinner but not disappearing.
Peter braced himself against the wall, feeling sick. “Did you dream of an explosion last night?”
His question stopped her in her tracks. “Yes.”
“And three nights ago—you dreamt of your mother dying?”
She staggered as if he’d struck her. He rushed forward, thinking she might faint, but instead she closed the distance between them and grabbed his arms.
“What have you done?”she yelled.
“Nothing!” She was nearly his height, leaving him nowhere to look but into furious eyes reflecting the red of the room. “Nothing except entering into a Vow with you at the same time you entered into a Vow with me.”
“Did youknowthis would happen?”
“No,” he snapped, pulling free. “This isn’t a frequently cast spell, and I’ve never heard of it used to bind two parties together with a pair of contracts. It appears we’ve discovered a side effect. You’re not to talk, write or otherwise communicate about the contents of my dreams, and the fact that mine are yours and vice versa, toanyone.”
“The contract I signed harms my sister, her efforts with the League and the League generally, and I want you to destroy it immediately!”
Nothing happened. He crossed his arms, frowning. “Trying to wiggle out of your obligations, are you?”
She jabbed a finger at him so aggressively, he was glad he’d already thought to issue a no-violence order. “How am I to sleep at night knowing you’re either foisting your dreams on me or watching my own over my shoulder?”
