Elizabeth walked into her house, easily stepping around the tongues of still fire. Every flame was frozen in place, each flicker like a sculpture of glowing gold. The heat remained, but Elizabeth could endure that. For one moment she simply stared at the brilliant light around her attempting to consume her home and spell book.
Asa paid the heat no mind, of course; he was used to hell. He didn’t even take off his coat. “A spell of conflagration. Nicely done. She could have gotten your Book of Shadows if we’d been only a few seconds later.”
Conflagration was indeed a sudden and devastating spell. It worked faster than virtually any defense. With a demon on her side, though, Elizabeth had all the time she needed for a spell of negation.
A wish unspoken.
A promise broken.
The work of a lifetime destroyed.
She held out her hands, allowing her fingers to rest in the heat of the still flames themselves, as she brought the ingredients together. The light was so brilliant she could see through her own skin and muscle, revealing the dark outline of bone.
Lauren Cabot, determined never to marry, defying Elizabeth’s wishes and insisting she had to go through life alone—never able to carry the curse herself lest she self-destruct before bearing the children Elizabeth needed to endure the curse next—and then one day turning her head to look at the handsome newcomer in town, Alejandro Perez—not daring to speak of her longing, but it was there, and in that moment Elizabeth knew the line would continue.
“You don’t interfere with us,” the witch said, “and we don’t interfere with you.” As if her weak, pitiful little coven could interfere with Elizabeth’s great work. But she nodded and even smiled, only waiting for the moment to destroy them all.
Standing in the wreckage of the Halloween carnival, feeling the jagged tears in the world where the One Beneath’s cell had been, thinking of every witch who had given her life’s work, or even her life, to trap Him—but now at last His cell had been broken open and He might now walk free—
Instantly the fire went completely out. Her house wasn’t even damaged; the only evidence of the spell of conflagration was a thin layer of ash lying over every surface. Asa brushed off his black coat with distaste. “What a mess.”
But when he held up his hands to let time resume, Elizabeth shook her head. “Not yet.”
Elizabeth walked outside directly to where Nadia stood on the sidewalk nearby, her bracelet of witching charms still clutched in one hand. The wind had caught her ponytail, and time had stopped at a moment where the intent on her face was very clear, very real.
“She’s strong, this one,” Asa said. “She’ll do whatever it takes to save the soul of the boy she loves.”
Elizabeth could not imagine a greater waste of time than saving someone’s soul. “Begin again.”
Asa clapped his hands, and time returned. Nadia startled; she had been staring at a house on fire, only to have it instantly go out—and see Elizabeth apparently materialize in front of her. When she glanced at Asa, though, she obviously realized what had happened. Her face flushed with anger. “If Asa hadn’t been with you—”
There were other ways in which she might have saved her home and spell book, but no point in letting Nadia learn too much about her power until they were on the same side. “Asa is here,” Elizabeth said evenly. “And so you failed again.”
Nadia sagged against the nearest tree in disappointment—and Elizabeth smiled.
“Doesn’t this make it even more clear that your skills are lacking?” She tried to say this pleasantly, to show none of her impatience. “That you have so much more to learn?”
“Not from you,” Nadia said. “Never from you.”
Asa chimed in. “I don’t know where else you expect to learn anything. Certainly not at Rodman. After two weeks, I have no trouble pronouncing high school a total loss. Nothing they teach will ever be relevant to your existence ever again. Except calculus. They have calculus in hell.”
Elizabeth ignored this irrelevancy. Her eyes never left Nadia’s face. Though to any outside observer they looked the same age, she could feel all the centuries that lay between her life and Nadia’s. What had it been like to be so young, to still have hope that the world could be made new and sweet, that it might comply with your will? She couldn’t remember. Perhaps she had never been quite as young as that, even as a girl.
If she couldn’t speak to Nadia as a young woman, then perhaps it was time to age her spirit. To show her what the world really was.
“So what are you going to do?” Nadia hadn’t backed up even a single step; that took some courage. “Do whatever you want to me, but I swear to God, if you go after my father again—”
“If I go after him again, he’ll enjoy it. At least for a little while. But your father isn’t the one you should be thinking about. If I were you, I’d realize it was well overdue to start thinking about your mother.”
Nadia actually laughed. “My mother has nothing to do with this. She’s not even here.”
“Did you think that was coincidence?”
It was always so delicious, that moment of realization: the moment when people realized the trouble they were in was infinitely deeper than they’d ever dreamed—the moment when uncertainty or tension turned into real fear. Real fear was sweeter to Elizabeth than wine.
“You didn’t do anything to her,” Nadia said, trying to sound more certain than she truly was. “She left us. Just—left. Moved out. Got a divorce. Same old story. You didn’t have anything to do with it.”