Abigail nodded, curling her fingers over the bowl, twisting the memory thread this way and that with her fingers, checking for what could be changed. Memories were fluid and could normally be molded in any direction.
“Good plan, good plan,” she muttered. She focused her will, muttered binding spells to the water and the bowl, making the copy first. When it was done, she lifted the thread from the water, then pushed the bowl to the back of the altar. She stepped over to the second bowl and plunged the memory thread into the water, snipping and molding it, doing her work quickly. She was good at changing memories, and she did it often, though almost never on herself. She sculpted and shaped, making everything smooth and common and acceptable.
“Finished,” she said, her eyes on the bowl. “Finished and complete.”
She turned, slowly, trying to keep the plan in her head. She reached for hercaskand it wasn’t there! She turned to stare accusingly at Ethedra, but a coat rack caught her eye. It was hercaskclipped to her modified coat rack.
Abigail moved close to it, turning her back to it, unbuttoning her jacket.
Number Six appeared from nowhere, coming around the altar to put a hand on her hip.
“Need help?” he rasped, pressing his front against her back, taking her jacket for her and kissing her neck softly, tickling her skin with his stubble.
“Hi Sixy,” Ethedra called.
“Where the hell did you come from? And where the hell have you been?” Abigail snapped.
“Right ’ere, Missus,” Number Six said softly, kissing her neck again.
“Good. I need you.”
“Me, too, Sixy!” Ethedra called, waving her hand.
Abigail shook her head, unbuttoning her shirt. “She doesn’t need you, but I want you to keep an eye on her.”
“Go back to Orion?” Number Six rasped, his eyes on her chest as it was revealed more and more with each button.
Abigail let her shirt fall open and her mark was revealed, raw, bloody, and weeping, slicing through her breasts and one nipple. Ethedra gasped but Number Six just kept smiling. It didn’t bother him one bit, which was one reason Abigail kept him around.
“Only for an hour.” She flicked her eyes to Ethedra. “I want you to keep an eye on her and tell me everything she says to thevod.”
Number Six nodded.
“First, you’re to go with me to ‘You Need It’ as a mink. We’ve got to meet with avodvod.”
“Minked up,” he said, nodding, his expression stony. “Won’t be no fights that way.”
Abigail shook her head and pulled her left arm out of her shirt.
“No fights, that’s right.”
She moved under the coatrack, pressing the mouth of the fox to herrenquascar, then whistled—a short trill—and her essence left her, plunging through herrenquascar into the mouth of hercask.
Empty. She felt empty and sad and small and alone. Abigail shook her head and looked around, confused, but not really. She’d been here before, she knew who this woman was—Ethedra from another world. She knew she met with this woman often when she had her essence, but almost never without it. It all had to do with her BIG BAD SECRET that she wasn’t supposed to think about, but that she carried with her everywhere. She shoved it to the back of her mind and waited for instructions from… someone.
This was just how her life was—full of secrets upon secrets that she could not unravel if she tried, so she kept moving.
Number Six moved close. She looked at him, and he took her hand, then ran his fingers down her bare shoulder softly. He pulled her shirt close around her and said, “Button ‘em, we’re going,” in a voice much softer than his usual chainsaw rasp.
Abigail nodded, feeling rough affection for him. She buttoned up, looking around, ready for anything.
Six pointed her to the memory bowl. She peeked in at the memory, frowning. Six motioned to it and said, “Put it in.”
Abigail, nodded. She trusted Number Six fully. She fished the end of the memory out of the water, then stuck it tothe back of her head, working with her fingers until it melded with what was already there.
Abigail gasped. She grabbed Number Six. “Someone took Paisley? Who?”
Six only shook his head, his face and voice solemn.
