Chapter 32

The others either didn't know or wouldn't tell her, but Kova had embraced his newfound freedom to tell the truth, no matter how upsetting. Through the dark cycle of her curse, her doppelganger had always died within a few weeks of her birthday, but it was usually a matter of days. Once, it had been only six hours. It was entirely out of her control, but she was increasingly on edge as the clock ticked by. Perhaps Fate was out to set a new record this time.

As of this evening, it had been just over forty-eight hours. Misha had wanted them to wait another full day, but Shoshanna insisted that she was up for breaking the curse. The human witch had spent all day working on a counterspell, saying that her friend "Ursula" had given her a hand.

She'd learned since arriving that the "compound" was once a school and residential facility, which explained all the small dormitory-like buildings. Though it was much more dated and rundown, it reminded her of the boarding school she'd once attended.

Shoshanna had turned a classroom in one of the buildings into her ritual space. The floor and walls were covered in intricate designs, with veins of silver and gemstones laid into the wood floor. The smoky scent of sage hung in the air.

As Scarlett watched from the doorway, Shoshanna was finishing the final stages of her work, drawing curving strokes in white paint on the floor. The witch's heart raced, though she looked more determined than frightened.

Despite the hour, Julian had accompanied Scarlett to the workshop. His eyes were sunken in shadow, his skin too pale, but he had insisted that she wake him early so he could accompany her.

She'd woken him up by kissing his brow, then sitting astride him and telling him that she wasn't going under for her magical surgery without fucking him senseless.

He had not objected, and her pulse still hadn't returned to normal. Intimacy would strengthen the bond, naturally, or at least that was what she was telling herself.

Finally, the witch sat back and swiped at her brow. Her eyes lifted, and she said, "We need to start soon."

Scarlett turned back to Julian, who cupped her face lightly and kissed her. "I'll be close by," he said, his voice quiet and shaky.

"I know," she murmured. Staring up at him, she said, "I love you." She wasn't sure if she meant it—wasn't sure she knew what it even meant—but she knew she wanted to say it. She wanted to mean it, and maybe that was good enough.

His eyes widened. "I love you," he echoed, bringing her into a tight embrace. The heated bond between them pulsed like a heartbeat. As it often did, that close touch conjured bloody images, but she didn't dare let go.

This man had fought for her, even when she hated him. He had held out the tiniest shred of hope through endless years of darkness. And she had nearly missed this. If not for Kova raising the question, would she have ever come here?

But you're here, she reminded herself, holding him tighter. His arms shifted around her, as if he heard that need for comfort.

Finally, she pulled back and gazed up at him. His eyes had gone red, but he was smiling faintly. It was that same sad smile he usually wore, but it was a lovely expression even so.

She touched his lips gently, then said, "I'll stay here all night if you let me."

"I wouldn't mind," he teased. But he gently nudged her into the workshop, where Shoshanna was waiting with a large glass and a cushion. It was becoming a familiar routine after all these nights of work together.

"I wasn't sure you should be here," Shoshanna said to Julian. "I'm not sure what her curse could do to you, but I figured you wouldn't want to be locked in your office, either."

He laughed and said, "You are correct. Just tell me what to do so I'm not in your way."

"Oh, I will," Shoshanna said archly. She passed a glass of thick, dark liquid to Scarlett and said, "Drink up. That'll take the edge off the curse while I work. Extra strength pagos, courtesy of Mr. Volkov."

While Scarlett drank, Shoshanna placed small silver dishes of ingredients at junctions on her intricate design. The faint smell of blood drifted in the air as she placed bloodstones all around, with another half dozen in the center.

The potion slid down her throat like cold honey, making it hard to swallow. Wincing, she finished it off, then carefully sat in the large space Shoshanna had drawn for her.

The witch smiled at her. "Doing okay?"

"Scared," Scarlett admitted, handing her the glass. The potion pooled like a lump of ice in her belly, radiating cold through her body. "Thank you for all of this. You're a good friend. I hope?—"

"No ma'am," Shoshanna said, shaking her finger. "We don't do ‘in case I don't make it' speeches here. I've got a six-and-oh record, thank you very much."

Scarlett chuckled and nodded. "Okay."

"I don't really know what to expect from yours. Armina cursed the rest of them because of something they did, but you're different. They all faced a test of character. You might see things. You might even see me, but trust yourself. Trust Julian. We care about you," she said warmly. "So if you see me and I tell you to just give up or something awful, it's probably not me. Okay?"

"Okay," Scarlett said quietly.

"Julian will be here if we need him. You're not alone, no matter what it feels like in there," Shoshanna said. "When this is done, we're getting brunch. You and me and Olivia, like normal girls on a Sunday."

She laughed a little. "Okay. That's a promise."

"If you can, call for me. I can usually get in there somehow. Not directly, but you'll know it's me," Shoshanna said. Then she gently pushed on Scarlett's shoulder. "Let's do this."

The ground seemed to shift under her, and she lay back on the soft cushion, staring up at the ceiling. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Julian pacing. There was still a warm pulsing sensation between them, one that got stronger when she paid attention to it. She liked that.

Her head was swimming now, her eyes going heavy. She was barely aware as Shoshanna began her ritual, speaking quietly in French. She didn't know if it was the sedatives or magic as the room began to tremble. Her eyes were too heavy to open, and she couldn't hear anything but rushing water.

Then she was falling, reaching for the hand of a woman with bright red hair, cut to her chin. Blood poured over her lips.

Mom?

Her fingers brushed against that woman's, and she fell back again.

Now there was a woman in an oversized army jacket, red hair braided. Throat torn out. She reached and missed, fell again.

A woman with tight pincurls turned, showing one side of her face crushed.

Scarlett tried to cry out, but there was only icy water pouring down her throat.

Another red-haired woman, this one in a lovely tailored dress, puffy sleeves stained with blood. Her head tilted as if she recognized Scarlett. She reached out, fingers turning to bloody talons.

Her hand slipped through.

There was a woman with an elegant hairstyle woven around a golden crown, her neck twisted strangely as she smiled.

And then there was the one with the long curls, wild and free as she tried to speak with her slashed throat. A knife protruded from her chest, pouring blood down her pretty blue dress.

Scarlett fell into the black, endless and shapeless and soundless. Each of those reflections called after her—don't go, don't fall, don't trust—but still she fell.

Where was she?

Who was she?

This was all a dream, all in her head, Shoshanna was there and?—

"Shoshanna?" she said.

Her voice fell flat, but her fall ceased. There was no impact, but she suddenly found herself in a void. She wasn't precisely standing, but she was no longer falling, either. She was simply there, suspended in that great nothing.

"Shoshanna?" she said again. She looked around, down, up—or at least what she thought approximated directions—and found darkness in every direction.

Something had gone wrong.

The tiniest flicker of light illuminated on the horizon. In that faint glow, she saw a tangled web of gray and black, cavernous and massive. The tiniest pull tugged at her foot, and she pressed down to find spongy ground beneath her feet.

The light brightened to a spark that slid along gray threads. Like a signal down a wire, it traveled dizzyingly fast. A soft glow illuminated the web, casting a globe of light all around.

Something massive skittered out of the dark, casting an impossibly huge shadow over her.

She screamed and ran in the opposite direction. Heavy, awkward steps made her feel like she was running in sand. Mid-stride, the thought struck her: this is in my mind.

Take me somewhere beautiful and bright, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut. Opening them again, she found herself in the same dark place.

Nope!

The large thing slammed to the ground in front of her, unleashing a cold wind as it bellowed in her face. Thousands of voices cried out from its mouth, deafening her with words she couldn't make out. It sounded angry and afraid at once.

She recoiled and backed away. "Shoshanna!" she cried out.

There was a tiny tug at her hand, and she looked down to see herself holding a glass lantern. She was rather hoping for a broadsword, but she raised the lantern, which ignited with a warm yellow glow.

The light illuminated a spider-like creature before her. Its lower body was the size of a house, with awkwardly jointed legs tipped with razor-sharp points. Where a spider's head might have been, a humanoid torso rose, towering above Scarlett. Its hair was long and tangled, gray and black threads that melded with the web above.

"Hello," Scarlett squeaked out.

The creature screeched at her again, and she fell back. Cold hands seized her shoulders and hauled her into the air like she was a small child. As she was lifted to those bright silver-blue eyes, the voice rang out again.

One single word was clear.

Leave.

She wriggled in its grasp. "I will gladly leave if you put me down!" she said.

Faceted eyes reflected her face back at her, and she was struck by the visions of the women she'd seen. They were the other versions of her, or perhaps, she was the other version of them, of Brigitte. Those red-haired spirits, doomed to die, danced across those glistening panels to their demise.

The creature's head tilted back and forth, and with each movement, she saw another version of Brigitte, another version of herself. Swallowing hard, she said, "Shoshanna is trying to help me. Do you know her?"

At that, the creature's head snapped to one side. It let out a long sigh, but Scarlett could swear that she heard a whisper of shoshanna in that strange, layered sound.

"Shoshanna. That's right," Scarlett said.

One spindly leg extended, slithering along Scarlett's arm to the lantern. She shuddered at the slimy touch, but watched as it tapped the glass. Despite the creature's massive size, its touch was delicate.

The lantern let out a crystalline ting, and the light burst from it in a golden spill. Scarlett raised the lantern, watching as the light washed over the cobwebbed walls. Pouring like glittering water, the light left something entirely different as it washed away.

When the light faded, she stood in a huge, stone-walled chamber. The walls were dark gray stone, cut smooth like the panels of the lantern, fixed at precise angles. Motes of bluish-silver light hung from the roof, which extended far above.

She lowered the lantern and gasped when she saw the feminine figure standing before her. The woman was about her size, with dark hair pulled back in a tight, severe bun. A wispy gray dress clung to her thin frame.

Her eerie blue eyes met Scarlett's. "Leave," she said quietly. "Not your place." Her feet were submerged in a shallow pool of dark water. The reflection in the pool was decidedly not a woman, and Scarlett decided not to examine it too closely.

There were no furnishings in the huge chamber. No doors, no windows.

What was the test?

"I don't know how to leave," Scarlett said tentatively. Was she supposed to kill the woman? That didn't seem right. Over the woman's shoulder, something shifted, and she watched as the stone wall began to shimmer.

In flashes, she saw a woman that looked an awful lot like her stride up to Julian Alcott in a dark alley, a gun in her trembling hand. Tears streamed down her face as her hand shook, and to Scarlett's surprise, Julian moved the woman's hand, put the barrel of the gun right at his forehead. "It's okay," he said. "I understand why you have to."

His voice rang out impossibly loud, reminding Scarlett where she was. Why she was here.

When she turned again, another reflection of her was moving through a marketplace across a stone canvas. This was a much older story, judging by the long flowing dress and the horses on the street. A man sprang out from the shadows with a knife in his hand, and she watched in horror as he plunged it into her chest, sending her basket flying.

"This is how she died before," she murmured. She was enrapt with morbid fascination as the other woman—Brigitte—fell to the ground. Staring up at the sky, the woman croaked out a single word.

Julian?

"All my work," the strange woman said absently. "All my fault."

Scarlett stared at her. "What do you mean? This is Armina's fault."

At the sound of her aunt's name, the spirit glared at her. "Twisted and corrupted for her. This was not meant to be," the spirit said, her voice rising to a shout. "They were not to die this way. Knots in the weave. Poison in the well!"

Her voice was so loud it shook the room, and Scarlett resisted the urge to cover her ears. She dared to touch the woman's arm. A cold sensation ran up her spine, but the woman quieted. Her eyes met Scarlett's. Countless stars twinkled in the dark space of her irises. They were beautiful, but terrifying.

It's in my head. It's a test, she reminded herself.

"It's okay. What's your name?" Scarlett asked.

"Name…" the spirit said. "I do not understand."

"Can I call you something? I'm Scarlett," she said.

"You are Scarlett now. You were Brigitte. Rebekkah. Audra. Vanessa. Sarah. Helena," the spirit said. "And now Scarlett."

"I suppose so," she said, trying to sound cheerful.

"I am lost. I am corrupted and broken. I act against my design," the spirit said mournfully. Her voice echoed off the stone, and the lights flickered ominously.

"Can I call you Alice?" she asked. They were surely down the rabbit hole now, lost in the madness of Wonderland.

"This is a name?" the spirit asked. Scarlett nodded. "Alice. You may call me this."

"Okay. Alice," Scarlett said. "I don't think what happened to Brigitte and the others was your fault."

"I wove the threads, dyed each one, tied them together," Alice said in a sing-song voice.

"But did you want to? I think Armina made you do it," Scarlett said.

The woman's head cocked. "When the needle is threaded, the thread has no choice but to go where it is pulled," she said. "Even when it does not belong, when it disrupts the pattern, when it fouls everything!" Her eyes, too large under thin brows, fell on Scarlett. Tears welled in the corners of those glowing blue orbs. "And now I must pull again. Beautiful red thread. Not time to cut it, but I must. Very soon."

She gestured broadly, and a dozen images flashed around the cavern. Lightning strikes in the distance, a MARTA train running off its rails, a snake sinking its teeth into Scarlett's throat.

"You did this?"

"I pull and it passes into the Weave," Alice said, shaking her head rapidly. "It should not be this way! She knows this."

"You don't have to pull or cut anything," Scarlett said. "Things are different. Are you trapped here?"

"I am…" Alice's head tilted again, and she began to speak in a language Scarlett could not comprehend. The sound of it scorched her mind, left her covering her ears as strange visions plagued her.

"Please stop," she pleaded. "I don't understand."

Alice's hand closed around her wrist, pulling her close. Slowly, she turned, gesturing broadly at the walls of the chamber. In turn, half a dozen women died in a bloody dance, all of them echoes of Brigitte Haas.

"This was not meant to be, should not be," she wailed. Her cries were deafening, rattling down to Scarlett's bones.

"Then don't make it happen!" Scarlett said, breaking away from her.

Alice gaped at her. As Scarlett stared, the spirit's form shifted, broadening slightly. Her hair brightened to fiery red, her eyes changing to a glowing green instead of that eerie blue. "I have no choice," Alice said, in a voice that was an eerie echo of Scarlett's.

"You do have a choice. I know what you are, and I know you serve fate. Fate is more powerful than Armina Voss. You are more powerful than she is," Scarlett said. "And she hid something from you when she bound you."

Her head tilted again. "She hides?"

Scarlett patted her heart. "I have a soulmate. Can you see it? There's someone who loves me very much. And I…I love him."

As the spirit contemplated, Scarlett rolled the word around in her mouth. She did love him.

Alice pressed her hand to Scarlett's chest, then shoved her hand in. Scarlett yelped instinctively, but there was only a cold sensation, no pain. And when the spirit withdrew her hand, she held a massive warhammer with red stones on its haft. The waif-thin woman should have fallen over from the weight, but she held it like it was no more than a feather.

"You love him?" Alice said, propping the polished wooden handle against the ground.

"I do," Scarlett said, marveling at the massive weapon.

"Why do you love him?"

"I think fate brought us together, but I choose him. I see how brave and loyal he is. He's honest about his failings, and he always tries to do the right thing. He cares about the people who serve him, even though he's their leader. Even if it makes someone angry, he won't make a promise he can't keep. He always forgives, and he never gives up," she said proudly. "I love him, and I'm proud of him. And he's a good man who doesn't deserve to suffer any longer. I want to be with him. It might be hard, but I want to try."

The spirit smiled at her, baring a mouth full of disconcertingly sharp teeth. She reached out and cupped Scarlett's face with an ice-cold hand, tilting her face back and forth. Scarlett fought the urge to pull away. "You love him," she said.

Uh-oh.

With a banshee wail, Alice hurled the hammer toward Scarlett. She screamed in surprise and ducked, but it passed harmlessly over her head and smashed into the wall behind her, crumbling the stone.

The ground rattled beneath them, and angry voices arose. Alice shook violently, but threw out her hand to grab the hammer again as it flew back to her. The room tilted, and Scarlett scrambled atop a sliding piece of rubble. "Alice?"

"No more," Alice whispered.

Across the room, the image of Brigitte had changed. It was Scarlett, complete with the borrowed black jacket, lying on a stretch of asphalt. Blood spread around her, and her head turned as bright light filled her vision.

"No!" Scarlett shouted.

Alice bolted across the room and smashed the rock with the hammer, letting it fall to pieces. Another image sprang up across the room, and she saw herself in Julian's arms, a long black dress swirling around her legs. They danced, arms draped around each other. Then a masked man drove a blade into her back, and she slumped against him.

Alice's head whipped back to Scarlett. "I am sorry. I am not the needle. I am the thread."

"But you don't have to be her thread," Scarlett said. "You serve fate, not Armina Voss. Don't you?"

The creature's eyes brightened, and she looked back. And for one split second, Scarlett saw her aunt in one of those glassy expanses, dark eyes and hair streaming behind her. Alice ran across the room and smashed the stone.

One after another, Alice smashed those panels, destroying the nightmare visions until only a pile of rubble remained. Those strange, slithering gray threads like a living web stretched as far as she could see. Bluish sparks now ran along them, like electrical signals across a trillion tiny nerves.

The hammer clattered to the ground, and Alice let out a scream that rattled the entire world, down to Scarlett's bones, threatening to wrench her joints apart. The sound slithered between her cells, between her thoughts, and she was lost in it.

Was it madness? Sheer joy at being free?

A warm hand grasped hers, and she clasped tight. When she opened her eyes, she still saw Alice, but they stood in a familiar space, on the red brick of Centennial Olympic Park, where she'd first met Julian. Beyond the dancing silhouettes of the trees, the blue wall of the aquarium glowed eerie red.

Alice wore an I Love Atlanta T-shirt, with her red hair long and loose like Scarlett's, but her shadow was impossibly huge, with spindly legs that stretched far beyond the brick walkway.

"Are you okay?" Scarlett asked.

Alice smiled brightly. "You care for me?" When she spoke, her voice rolled like thunder in the night. Lightning flashed in the clouds, which were woven of a million tiny gray threads.

"It seems like you were trapped for a long time," Scarlett said. "That makes me sad. I think…I think somehow I was trapped with you. But I didn't remember all of it. You did, didn't you?"

The spirit's head tilted. "I made you die. Watched you die. Felt you die. Over and over. So many threads cut too soon, patterns unfinished…but you have no anger."

"It wasn't your fault," Scarlett said. "But is there anything you could tell me to help the people she's hurt? How to undo her spells, or where she's hiding?"

"Alice doesn't know," she said sadly. But she held out her hand. "So much taken from you. From all of the yous."

When Scarlett took her hand, she was struck with the image of a weaver at a loom, weeping as she sliced through her work with scissors. Loose threads fell to the ground, turning to dust. The woman wept and threw herself over the loom as her tears stained the shredded remains.

Something burned against her palm. Scarlett gasped, opening her eyes to see a skein of shining red thread in her palm. Neatly looped on itself, it felt far too heavy for its tiny size. "What's this?"

"What should have been woven," Alice said. "I cannot alter fate, but neither can this remain in the ether. Do with it what you will." Her eyes drifted up, then fixed on Scarlett. "Now go, while you can."

Scarlett nodded to her. "Thank you. I wish you well," she said.

At that, Alice's mouth split, far too wide, as she grew into a monstrous spider-thing again, and the landscape dissolved into something strange and nightmarish. The ground trembled beneath her, and the air went bitterly cold.

Scarlett ran.