Page 17

17

E z is mildly irritated to find that the falafel nachos from Falafel Express are just as delicious as Roma claimed they would be. Desi is clearly in heartfelt agreement, her glamour doing nothing to disguise her enthusiasm as she shovels back pita wedges, and Obie, Cass, and JJ look fully prepared to come to blows if anyone tries to steal off their plates.

And Ez is also more than mildly irritated that she’s barely taken two bites of her own tzatziki-covered goodness before a warm rush of power sweeps over her. Groaning, she drops her head into her hands as a mega-rift crackles to life across the Courtyard. “Really? Really?”

“Looks like it,” Obie says, already halfway to his feet. His shoulders are tense. “How much of a situation do we think this is going to be?”

Wearily, Ez gestures for him to sit down. “Literally not a situation at all. Trust me. JJ, can I commandeer you for this one?”

Cass stiffens the slightest bit, but he doesn’t protest. Even though he’d clearly prefer for JJ to be as far away from the action as possible, none of them want that mega-rift open for long enough to let a neophyte demon through. If JJ is the only human spellcaster available, then he’ll have to suffice.

JJ runs a soothing hand over Cass’s back before standing up. “Sure. Let’s get this thing closed and get back to our falafel. Frankly, I’m insulted that it interrupted our??—?”

Abruptly, a familiar figure catches Ez’s eye. She doesn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed when she sees Roma jog up to the mega-rift, arms already outstretched like she’s about to try and close it alone. “Change of plans,” Ez says, putting a hand on JJ’s shoulder and bodily pushing him back into his seat. “Gutierrez can make herself useful.”

JJ’s jaw tightens. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks quietly, his eyes dark and concerned.

Ez ruffles his hair. He wrinkles his nose at her. “Not to worry, my young JJ. I’ve been dealing with your old buddy for weeks now. I can handle her wiles, and??—?”

The Sanctum has been pretty clear that getting JJ back is a high priority.

Ez bites back the words. She already talked to JJ and Cass about how their former hunter is apparently still on the Council’s radar, and she doesn’t see any need to ruin this dinner outing even more. “And I’m sure she’s not still mad about that little jailbreak last weekend. Obie, take over the glamours for me, would you?” she finishes, and she doesn’t give any of them a chance to respond before snapping her fingers and rifting over to Roma’s side.

Roma starts with surprise when Ez appears. “When did you get here?”

Ez isn’t about to make the mistake of answering that question honestly again. She pointedly doesn’t look back at the table with her glamoured friends. “Public Safety called, and I happened to be available. You ready?”

Roma’s jaw twitches, but she doesn’t protest. “One, two, three?—ages upon ages??—?”

“In the name of Nostringvadha??—?”

An uneasy sensation creeps down Ez’s spine as they work through their dual spells. Their incantations are the same, their magic is the same, but the mega-rift??—

The mega-rift feels different. Usually, Ez’s disconnecting spell feels like pulling a weed up by the roots, but this time, it’s almost like that weed is attached directly into the bedrock.

Like she can mostly wrestle it free, but part of it doesn’t want to disappear.

But her and Roma’s combined spells work just as efficiently as always. By the time they finish their incantations, the mega-rift is fizzling into nonexistence, and Ez lets out a slow breath, eyeing the hunter next to her.

Roma was more abrasive than usual the last time they met, but Ez is chalking that up to the fact that she knocked her unconscious just days prior. Now, almost a week after the jailbreak, Roma doesn’t look any worse for wear, but there’s still a faint line of tension in her shoulders.

Probably because of Ez’s reaction to her spotting JJ the other day. And Ez isn’t too proud to admit that she may have overreacted to that particular incident. After all, Roma didn’t look ready to kidnap JJ again?—actually, she seemed genuinely happy to see him.

Like she didn’t tell Ez a mere week ago that the Sanctum is still out for JJ’s blood.

Maybe Roma’s affection for JJ has the potential to overshadow her knee-jerk loyalty to the Sanctum. Ez can hope, at least. “You were right about the falafel nachos,” she admits grudgingly.

Roma looks smugly pleased. “Of course I was. Andrew cooked them, after all.”

“That he did.” Even though Ez is only a stone’s throw away from her friends, she still peels open a rift?—an invisible one this time?—to head back to them. “Later, Gutierrez. Catch you on the??—?”

Without warning, another wave of power roils over Ez. Apparently, Roma feels it, too, because she immediately stiffens, squinting in the direction of the surge. “What the hell?”

Bewildered, Ez lets her rift fade and heads to the edge of the Courtyard. Just down the block, a second mega-rift is billowing open in the middle of the road, large and imposing enough to block the steadily setting sun. “Huh. That’s new.”

“Very new,” Roma agrees, her gaze sweeping over the street. She looks unusually apprehensive. “Why?—why would a second mega-rift open?”

Ez frowns at her. “Why have any of these mega-rifts been opening in the first place?” she asks, and she strides forward. “You coming?”

Roma breaks into a jog to catch up, her eyes still darting around like she’s looking for something. “It doesn’t make sense,” she mumbles to herself, so quietly that Ez almost doesn’t hear her. “Unless there are actual summoners? But??—?”

Ez slows to a stop in front of the mega-rift, squinting up at it. It looks identical to all the others she’s encountered over the past few weeks, but… “Did the one we just closed feel weird to you?”

Roma goes still. “Weird? How so?”

“Like…” Ez struggles to put the sensation into words. “Like it was coming from somewhere different than usual? Not the rift itself?—that’s still connected to Tamaros?—but the magic creating it?”

Roma considers the mega-rift in front of them, her expression curiously blank. “Maybe. But it?—it still closed with our dual spellcasting, right? So this one should, too.”

This might just be the first time Ez has ever heard Roma sound so unsure about magic. It’s strangely unnerving. “Right,” Ez says eventually, and she raises her hands. “On three?—one, two??—?”

Roma snaps out of her reverie just in time to jump in with her own incantation, the words only a little shakier than usual. Within a minute, the mega-rift is collapsing in on itself, leaving the gentle glow of sunset where it once was.

“Well, I guess that’s that,” Ez says, stretching her shoulders back. “A bit more work than normal, but??—?”

Another rush of warmth swells over her, fainter this time. Her blood runs cold. “Another one?”

Roma’s eyes are wide. “But that should be impossible,” she says, popping onto her tiptoes like she can pinpoint where their newest mega-rift opened. “How are they being opened so quickly? How are they being opened in different places? How??—??”

Dread curdling through her, Ez pulls out her cell phone, swipes into the screen, and taps on Maggie Khan’s contact.

She picks up within two rings. “What do you need, Laguerre?”

“We just had three mega-rifts open in rapid succession,” Ez says. “We closed the first two and are en route to the third. Has that happened before?”

There’s a long pause. “No. No, that’s goddamn weird. For now, keep closing them and let me know if anything changes. I’ll mobilize Public Safety in case there’s a group of summoners planning something.”

Ez’s stomach lurches. Has everything else been a dress rehearsal for this moment? Is there a network of summoners trying to build an army from scratch? “On it. Stay in touch, Mags.”

“Stay safe,” Maggie says, and the line goes dead.

Ez turns towards Roma’s pale face, raising her eyebrows. “You coming?”

Slowly, Roma nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m coming,” she says, and they jog down the street towards their next assignment.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Chester says, glaring down at The Magic-Weaver’s Companion on Bryant’s kitchenette table. “We did the spell exactly as written, and we only opened one rift?—the first one, just like usual. How do they keep popping up like this?”

“And you’re sure?” The bands of anxiety that have been coiled around Roma’s lungs since yesterday cinch a few notches tighter, barely a step down from panic. “You didn’t accidentally tack on, I don’t know, a permanent reopening spell or something?”

Bryant snorts, not pausing in her pacing. “That’s not a thing. Right? Is that a thing?”

“Hell if I know, Bryant, but none of this should be happening. I’m willing to consider any and all possibilities.”

Bryant’s jaw tightens. Right now, she’s carving a path across the main room of her suite while Chester pores over the spell book and Roma herself hunches on a kitchen chair, forearms resting on her knees and head hanging low. It’s a posture she’s become very familiar with since her actions directly led to the epidemic of mega-rifts.

Because that’s the only word she can use to describe it, isn’t it? An epidemic.

Because, over the twenty-four hours since Bryant and Chester first cast the Magic-Weaver’s spell, more than two hundred mega-rifts have opened all across Redwater, forcing both the Sanctum and the Chain into high alert to close them.

It’s been an absolute nightmare. Roma and Ez were hustling all over town until long past midnight last night, shuttering rift after rift until Roma’s eyes went blurry. Once her spellcasting started to suffer from sheer exhaustion, Ez ordered her to go home and get some rest, and Roma was too tired to argue as she stumbled back to the Sanctum to face her punishment.

The Council is furious, of course. Frankly, Roma can’t blame them. Her only saving grace is that she specifically ran this rift-opening spell?—complete with her full nuance analysis?—past Councilwoman Nasir before implementing it, and Nasir checked it with several other spellcasters before approving the plan.

The fault ultimately lies with Roma, but the fact that Nasir bears partial responsibility is probably what’s kept Roma from being thrown in a prison cell. Honestly, she’s shocked that the Council hasn’t called off her mission entirely. Either they recognize that Roma’s working relationship with Ez will be a good stopgap measure to keep the epidemic at bay until they find a permanent solution, or??—

Or the Council wants JJ back more badly than Roma expected. She’s trying not to think too hard about that possibility, though.

“But this can’t go on forever, right?” Chester asks, a hint of fear snaking into his voice. “Even if the mega-rifts are opening like crazy right now, there has to be some kind of limiting factor.”

Bryant looks skeptical. “I guess. It’s only been a day, and that’s not nearly enough time to draw any solid conclusions. But I?—I don’t like this at all.” Her eyes cut to Roma. “Your demon said the Magic-Weaver’s rift even felt different, right?”

“Laguerre isn’t my demon,” Roma protests, but the words sound weak in her own ears. “And yeah. It felt different to me, too. Not harder or easier to close, but?—?” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. “It was like the texture was different.”

“The texture was different,” Bryant repeats dubiously. “Well, now, Gutierrez, that’s very specific. Too specific.”

Roma scowls back. “If I knew how to describe it, then I’d probably have a better idea of how to stop it. These mega-rifts still close with the joint blocking and disconnecting spells, which implies that our original rift-opening spell and the Magic-Weaver’s one share a lot of fundamental similarities, but?—but the few differences are clearly more important than we realized.”

“And sparked an epidemic,” Bryant mutters, turning sharply at one end of her suite and pacing restlessly towards the other. Abruptly, she stops short. “I’ve got nothing, guys. I’m wracking my brain for anything from my childhood magic lessons, textbooks that Sawyer made me read, schmoozing with purebred spellcasters?—I’ve never heard of anything even comparable to this.”

Roma’s heart sinks. Even though she’s their best spellcaster, Bryant gets access to more resources?—and more high-level spellcasters?—simply by virtue of her lineage.

If Roma and Bryant’s combined knowledge can’t get them out of this mess, then they’re truly starting from zero.

“There has to be a counterspell,” Chester says desperately. “Right? That’s one of the principles of magic?—every spell contains the seeds of its own reversal.”

Roma’s stomach churns. It’s exactly what she told him when she was reassuring him about pre-WMSA spells last week, and even though she knows he’s not trying to throw the words back in her face, she feels the sting of them anyway. “The reversal is supposed to be the closing spells. And those clearly aren’t working for any appreciable length of time.”

Bryant cocks her head to one side, considering. “But that doesn’t mean they’re the reversal?—just a reversal that happens to work for rift-opening spells in general. There might be a counterspell that’s better for this specific variation.”

Roma shakes her head. “We don’t have a peer-reviewed counterspell, remember? The Magic-Weaver’s Companion was published before the Written Magic Standardization Act.”

And that alone should’ve been reason enough for Roma not to use it. Nausea licks up her throat, and she swallows it down hard. One of the first lessons she learned in spellcasting class was to avoid spells written before the WMSA whenever possible, leaving those riskier bits of magic to only the most skilled spellcasters.

Apparently, Roma’s pride managed to convince her that she was one of them. She’s never been proven wrong so quickly in her life. “The only solution I can see,” she says slowly, dread tangling down her spine, “is to create a reversal from scratch. To attempt an untested, unproven spell from scratch.”

“And that’s basically the most dangerous thing a spellcaster can possibly do,” Bryant says, crossing her arms over her chest. “So no pressure.”

Chester hesitates. “Do you think Laguerre would help?”

Roma laughs bitterly. “She’d need the full text of the Magic-Weaver’s spell to even begin working on a counterspell, and the only way to get her that would be to admit I was playing her all along. No, thanks.”

“I mean…” Chester’s jaw works. “At this point, we have to prioritize Redwater’s safety, right? I?—I feel like JJ would want it that way, too,” he adds haltingly, and he looks away.

Roma’s chest hurts. Considering how loyal Chester still is to JJ, she knows how much it must take for him to even suggest that they abandon their mission to get him back. “Laguerre reacted badly when I even recognized JJ the other day,” she says softly. “If she knew that I’ve been targeting him from the start, she would probably refuse to work with me on principle.” Taking a deep breath, she pushes herself to her feet, grabs their spell book, and tucks it under her arm. “Anyway, I?—I should get to work on this counterspell. I??—?”

Bryant throws out an arm to stop her. “I think you mean ‘we,’ dumbass. We should get to work on this counterspell.”

Roma throws her a halfhearted scowl. “Listen??—?”

“Yes, yes, Chester’s spellcasting is atrocious and mine is worse,” Bryant says impatiently, and Chester snorts with surprise. “But we’re a team, Gutierrez. The three of us got into this mess together, and the three of us are going to get out of this mess together. It’s that simple.”

“Agreed,” Chester says, nodding. “You can’t get rid of us that easily. Magic might not be our forte, but we can definitely help with research and triple-checking your work. And if you end up on more rift-closing shifts with Laguerre, we can keep taking notes for you back here. We’ve got you, Roma.”

Roma’s heart feels warm. Despite all the stress and tension of the past few months, despite JJ’s defection and Roma’s back-to-back espionage missions and this entire catastrophe with the mega-rifts??—

Despite everything, she still has two of her best friends in her corner. “Well, this counterspell isn’t going to write itself,” she says, and she gestures for them to follow her. “Let’s head to the library and get to work.”