Chapter 22

Fate only seems unfair. It's after you've lived long enough that her vision, her order, finally comes together for you.

-Hecate's Guide to Arcane Philosophy

Rorick

A nother hour crawled by, possibly two. It didn't matter which. Nothing mattered anymore. I curled up beside Quiet, holding her corpse, breathing in the last of her citrus and wildflower scent before it was gone for good. I remembered the first time I'd smelled it, remembered the first time she'd met me.

Roughly three years prior, I'd kept office hours in the small space attached to my brownstone. It had a door and side stairwell that opened to the public.

I'd been sitting behind my desk, reading a paper. Business off the street was slow, and I wasn't expecting company.

The door opened and closed, a potential client letting themselves in without bothering to knock, so I didn't feel obligated to lower my paper.

"What d'you need?" I asked drolly, reading the latest piece about the recent double homicide I was consulting on.

"What I need is for you to drop that newspaper and grant me your full attention immediately," Quiet said. Her scent hit me next, and images burst before my eyes: earthy herbs, a meadow of wildflowers, and a knife slicing into a ripe orange.

I chuckled at her forceful tone, dropping the paper enough that I could see her over it. It surprised me when I realized my guest was an unsmiling witch with a tall hat and striking gray eyes.

Curious, I rolled up the paper and dropped it on my desk exactly as she'd asked. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"A man stole from my coven. A ged," she said, lips firm. "I've already identified him, but the fingerprinting science I used isn't well-known and the stubborn police won't listen to me. When I demanded further assistance, they gave me your name." She lowered a manilla file onto the blotter on my desk. "Look for yourself. Your work is done for you. I'll pay you and then you'll point the culprit out to the police so that they may attempt to do something useful for once."

I opened the file, flipping through the detailed documents inside. "Are you always this demanding toward people you've only just met?"

Her head cocked to the side, considering my words.

"Yes," she drawled.

I liked her immediately.

After giving her report a closer once-over, an idea struck me, one that would send us down a path of partnership. "Rather than pay me a fee, could I convince you to run this fingerprint science of yours on a case I'm working? The murderer left a bloody handprint on the wall at a scene, but there's too many close-lipped suspects to identify the culprit who struck the deathblow."

Her head cocked to the side again as she thought over my words, chewing on her cheek . "Fix my problem first. We'll see how useful you are, then we'll talk."

Now lost in my grief, I pressed my nose into her hair, scared of the moment I'd lose her scent for good.

A flash of bright blue light pulled me from my daze. I sat up, shielding my eyes from the glare of a lantern.

Dominion stood in front of the tall standing mirror, frowning. He hoisted his lantern. Slowly, the light dimmed. When I blinked, I could still see it burning behind my eyelids.

"Give her back," I begged. "Or at least take me with you!"

The big clown stared through me.

"I want to go with you," I said loudly, climbing to my feet. It angered me that he wouldn't even look at me, not with any of his eyes, the coward.

Below me, Quiet gasped. Her back bowed off the ground.

"Quiet!" I dropped to her side.

She sat up and stared at me with a gaze that was no longer gray. Her chest filled. She clutched at the wound the spiders had sewn shut.

Then she lunged at me. Little fangs bared, she bit my cheek.

I wrapped her in my arms, ignoring the sharp pain, pressing her to me.

"Oh no, I'm sorry," she panted, rearing back. "I don't know what came over me."

But I did, and I didn't care. "Quiet," I breathed. Her name was all I could manage, and the lone word was less than coherent at that. My hands shook.

"Am I really back?" she asked, glancing around the dark tent. The heart in her chest remained silent.

"You're back," I told her, tears streaming my cheeks, too many to stopper.

With her thumb she swiped the wetness from under my eyes. Her touch was cold. "Hecate brought me to Death. I told him to give me wings. Demanded he send me here immediately, because I knew you were waiting for me. I tried to get here as quickly as I could."

"Only you would attempt to boss around Death himself," I said, crushing her to me. Her changed body was sturdier now, full of my blessed blood. I embraced her firmly without concern.

"Death wasn't responsive to being ordered about, but"—she nodded her head at Dominion—"he was. Dominion used his lantern. I saw it glowing in the dark through the Nothing and recognized it. He showed me the way here." She raised a hand to him in salute. "Thank you, friend."

He nodded his big sad head. We stared at each other in a silence that felt oddly comfortable. He raised a gloved hand to me. I raised one back in salute. Then he stepped through the mirror, vanishing from sight.

Insects poured out of Quiet's hat. The air filled with glowing beetles and buzzing bees. Spiders and ants circled us excitedly. Gilbert swooped overhead.

Anita climbed onto my shoulder. She bobbed there happily.

"Well done, my friend," I told her, petting her back.

She preened, pedipalps flapping. Anita insisted on sewing up my cheek after that. As long as I was allowed to keep my hands on Quiet, I let her.

"Are you all right?" Quiet asked me.

When Anita was finished, I jerked Quiet in closer. "Am I all right? I wasn't the one run through the heart with a spike! Are you all right?"

Quiet touched my face, her fingers cool and comfortable against my skin. "I hardly felt a thing. Just pressure and then shock. And then confusion. Honestly, I'd rather be the one run through than the one waiting to see if you made it back to me."

I couldn't argue with that. It had been horrible, the lowest moment of my life—and un-life.

Dominion wasn't the last of our visitors. The rustle of heavy wings preceded the appearance of a robed man stepping through the rippling mirror glass. Though his dark hair was longer, he was the spitting image of myself, down to the silver at his temples. Gray wings arched at his back, and two matching sets extended from both his ankles.

He bowed his head politely. "Hecate told me not to bother," he said in the drawling accent that matched the time witch's, "but I felt you both deserved to know. Your sacrifice was accepted . . . eventually. Hades was hesitant at first after Quiet returned here, but since she is still technically dead, I've convinced him to accept the sacrifice for what it was. He's lifted the curse and is now allowing Hecate to work off the debt of her wings in service at my side, a request he's denied many times before until now. You may both finally live your lives without looking over your shoulder for the consequences of others to come and claim you."

"You're Hecate's Rorick," Quiet guessed.

The winged traveler nodded. "Hermes, I'm called."

"I should pop your head off, whatever your name is," I grumbled. "That would teach Hecate a proper lesson."

Hermes's lips quirked. "I think you'd find I'm not so easily defeated, and Hecate has endured many lifetimes of lessons already. We don't need to be friends. I simply want you to know that I understand what you've been put through. Now we can all finally enjoy our peace."

"Never friends," I said. "Hecate is my enemy. Forever."

He chuckled, and the sound of it set my teeth on edge. His voice, despite the accent, was too much like my own. "I think you'll find an eternity is a very long time to have an enemy. Too long, in fact."

I was glad when he was gone again, returning through the looking glass.

After that, I had to share Quiet with her sisters for a while. Prim hugged her so tightly and for so long I began to wonder if I'd ever get her back. I'd worried how Astor would react to Quiet joining me as a tick, but the witch didn't hesitate. She and Goose were overly affectionate.

I helped the sisters drop the dead ichors and coffin-dwellers down a hatch that dumped into the underground tunnels. Corpse-eaters were not violent by nature, so ushering them back into the aqueducts had been easier.

Police had been summoned. I used my connections with them to focus their attentions on the clown fanatics who'd been injured during the battle. The remaining ichors had fled the moment they'd been told to by Hecate—the lying shrew.

I ground my teeth, thinking of that witch and how she'd tricked me into sacrificing my own constant. Truly, I believed she and I would be eternal enemies. It didn't matter that given the choice, I'd have sacrificed her for Quiet over and over again if I'd had to. I'd sacrifice her in Quiet's place one thousand times with ease.

"Why am I so tired?" Quiet asked me.

"The sun is coming," I told her.

Quiet ran a finger over her new canines. "Oh . . . well, of course. I should have known . . ."

"Let me take you home."