Page 20 of Fool Me Twice (Redwater Demons #2)

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I t could be a duplication spell,” Ez says. “Or a replication spell.”

Roma wrinkles her nose. “But neither of those makes sense in this context, Ez. Duplication and replication spells wouldn’t constantly change locations.”

“You know, I’m surprised that you even know there’s a difference between them.”

Roma throws a french fry at her. “Shut up.”

Ez dodges the fry, more than a little amused. She and Roma are sitting across from each other at a Lakeside picnic table, taking their reprieve from closing mega-rifts while they can. They’re going to start opening again soon, Ez knows, but??—

But she and Roma have started to figure out the pattern. Usually, there’ll be cycles of between twelve and fifteen mega-rifts opening before a short rest, typically only a few minutes. That’ll repeat from five to ten times before a longer break starts, giving them a lull of at least an hour?—sometimes two, if they’re lucky.

And, since they’re out here closing mega-rifts for roughly ten hours a day, they’ve started timing their meals accordingly. Right now, Ez is chowing down on a decadent slice of tortilla espanola, and Roma is nibbling on her samosas with a side of fries.

JJ loves samosas, too. Ez wonders if Roma was the one who introduced him to them.

Determinedly, she pushes the thought from her mind. She has more important things to worry about right now?—partly brainstorming ideas about how to end the mega-rift epidemic with her spellcasting buddy, and partly just checking Roma’s spellcasting knowledge in general.

Ez doesn’t know why it’s so important to her to discover how much Roma knows about magic, but for some reason, it makes excitement buzz through her veins every time they discuss it. “Then tell me, Gutierrez,” Ez says, leaning forward. “Walk me through your rationale for why this can’t be a duplication or replication spell.”

Roma licks the grease off her fingers before answering. “First of all, I do know the difference. There are two parts to every spell, the casting and the activation. Most people think they’re the same thing, because there’s usually only a split-second delay between them, but the casting is the cause of the spell and the activation is the effect.”

“You say that like you have a mnemonic device for them,” Ez says. “Let me guess?—‘casting’ and ‘cause’ both begin with the letter ‘c,’ and ‘activation’ and ‘effect’ both begin with a vowel?”

Roma picks up another fry and cocks her hand back like she’s taking her aim. “Don’t test me, Laguerre.”

Ez snorts, unconcerned. “All right. Go on.”

Roma eyes her suspiciously before lowering her fry-throwing hand. “The casting is what most people think of as performing the spell?—the incantation, stance, and gestures?—while the activation is the actual flow of magic that creates the intended effect. Duplication spells are a repetition of the casting, and replication spells are a repetition of the activation.”

“Do you have a mnemonic device for those, too?”

This time, Roma doesn’t give advance warning before chucking a fry at Ez. Ez catches it in midair and pops it into her mouth. “Do you have something against mnemonic devices?”

“Only when they’re stupid,” Ez says, and she nods at Roma. “Continue.”

Roma rolls her eyes. “So a duplication spell would repeat the casting over and over again. It would effectively create a ‘shadow’ of the original casting, including any introduced errors, and would generally lead to the activation occurring again each time. And, importantly, it doesn’t move around at all?—it’s localized in the spot where the casting first occurred. That doesn’t fit with our mega-rifts.”

“So why not a replication spell?” Ez challenges. “They only repeat the activation portion?—in this case, the mega-rift opening. They’re more like a facsimile of the spell than the spell itself, and they’re not localized to any particular location.”

Roma doesn’t look convinced. “It’s more likely than a duplication spell, but it still wouldn’t constantly change locations?—not without another spell attached, at least. And?—?” She leans forward, her eyes brightening in a way that lets Ez know she’s about to get particularly nerdy. “And both duplication and replication spells involve perpetual motion. They just keep casting or activating over and over again, not waiting for a counterspell or reversal. That doesn’t match with the weird rhythm of the mega-rifts.” She gestures at her samosas as evidence. “Like right now. We literally predicted that this would be our lunch break based on that pattern. That wouldn’t happen with a duplication or replication spell.”

“Hm…” Ez chews thoughtfully on her tortilla. “You have a point.”

“You already know all this. Why are you even asking me?”

Roma sounds more curious than annoyed. Ez shrugs one shoulder. “Much as I’m loath to admit it, you have a sophisticated understanding of spellcasting for a human. I’m hoping that discussing different magic concepts might lead us to a solution, because we know all the rules?—and how to break them.”

Roma looks faintly pleased. “Huh,” she says, taking another bite of her samosa. “Thanks. I guess.”

“Don’t get too cocky.”

“I won’t,” Roma says, and she straightens in her seat. “All right. Extrapolating off that, let’s talk about magic bases.”

Ez squints back at her. “Magic bases?”

“The different structural formulas used to create spells.”

“I’m aware of what a magic base is, Gutierrez. What do they have to do with the mega-rifts?”

“I’m starting to wonder if our counterspells would work better if they shared the same magic base as the rift-opening spell,” Roma says. “After all, just because our joint blocking and disconnecting spells can close the mega-rifts doesn’t mean they’re the best option.”

Ez wrinkles her nose. “It’s… possible, but highly unlikely. After all, the mega-rifts are closing every time?—they just happen to open again right afterward. That implies less of an issue with the counterspells and more of an issue with the rift-opening spell itself.”

Plus, it’s not like either of them knows the magic base of the rift-opening spell. If they had access to that incantation, it would make their lives a whole lot easier.

“Hm.” Roma takes a sip of water, considering Ez. “So why do you use your usual magic base, anyway? A friend of mine recently went down a demon-magic rabbit hole, and there are apparently plenty of bases that reference multiple demon gods. Why do you use the one that only invokes Nostringvadha? Doesn’t that limit your spellcasting?”

“First of all,” Ez says, “because the other gods are dicks.”

Roma snorts with surprise. “Really?”

“Oh, one hundred percent,” Ez confirms. “They never leave their ivory tower in their inner realm, and they just watch all of us like we’re lab rats put there for their amusement. Plus, whenever the realm starts to get too peaceful, they’ll throw trials and challenges at us, like they’re trying to remind us that we only exist because they say so. They’re assholes.”

Roma looks like she’s fighting back a smile. Ez feels strangely vindicated. “But Nostringvadha?”

For the first time in a long time, a pang of nostalgia twinges through Ez. “Back in Tamaros, Nostringvadha was among us. He was always… present in a way that’s hard to describe. Spacetime is a very different concept in Tamaros than it is on Earth?—you could almost say that every demon exists in every space in Tamaros at every given moment?—so Nostringvadha was always there. He’d help us with the trials from the other gods, much to their displeasure, and he’d encourage us with memories of the past and the future. He was…” The twinge deepens. “He was special. To all of us.”

Roma nods slowly. “You mentioned memories. And that was one of the names you called Nostringvadha with the neophyte from midtown?—‘Memory-Keeper,’ right?”

Ez is impressed that Roma remembered that. “Yeah. Nostringvadha holds all the memories of the realm within himself,” she says, and she scowls. “Or he did, at least. I don’t know how his powers work here on Earth. But he wasn’t like Obie, who has to actively pull memories from the environment around him?—they all just existed in Nostringvadha, like they were always there and always would be.”

“And those other names you called him? ‘Wanderer,’ ‘Avenger’…”

“‘Wanderer’ is because he was always with us and almost never in the gods’ inner realm,” Ez says, “although it’s taken on a whole new meaning now that he’s wandering around this dimension, too. ‘Avenger’ is because he helped us with the challenges from the other gods, and also?—?” She eyes Roma critically. “Do you know why the gods banished him here?”

“No,” Roma says, “but I presume it’s because he pissed them off.”

“Oh, big time,” Ez says. “He finally got fed up with them tormenting their own people for funsies and stole the Fount of Blessings from their inner realm. It wasn’t the source of the gods’ power, but it contained the essence of it?—basically, the part that separates a regular demon from a deity. The Fount couldn’t turn any of us into gods ourselves, but it could make our lives infinitely easier?—and Nostringvadha installed it directly in the center of Tamaros, where anyone could access it.”

“And his fellow gods didn’t like that.”

“Well, not only did they banish him from the entire dimension,” Ez says, “but they also put both a curse on him and a curse on Earth to make sure he could never return, so no. No, I’m assuming they didn’t like that. And time works differently in Tamaros, so?—so sometimes, it felt like we were in a constant state of losing Nostringvadha. The power from the Fount of Blessings meant that we didn’t really need his help anymore, but we still missed his presence, you know? Missed having him around.” She lets out a slow breath. “In light of all that, you can probably figure out why we call him ‘Beloved.’”

“Yeah.” Roma presses her lips together. “The other gods really do sound like dicks.”

Ez is shocked into laughing. “They totally are. I mean, they’re technically necessary?— their very existence holds Tamaros together at the seams, making sure it doesn’t collide with other dimensions?—but they didn’t care about us. Not like Nostringvadha did.”

“So that’s why you mainly use magic bases that involve him?”

“Eh…” Ez holds up a flat palm and tips it from side to side in a “not really” motion. “Nostalgia alone isn’t a valid reason for spellcasting decisions. Some spells are more succinct if you include the other gods?—or even The Fourteen as a unit?—but practically speaking, it doesn’t change all that much. At this point, I’m just used to only invoking Nostringvadha’s name, so magic bases including him make intrinsic sense to me in a way that others don’t.”

Roma looks fascinated. “Really? I have a few magic bases that I prefer, but I’ve never found one that makes more sense than the others.”

Ez pauses with a bite of tortilla halfway to her mouth. “Well, I?—I didn’t really start making those connections until I’d been on Earth for a solid century and a half. It takes a lot of repeated spellcasting. I don’t, um. I don’t know if any human spellcasters have ever gotten to that point.”

Roma’s eyes flicker. “Ah.”

Ez’s chest hurts. Much as she knows that she and Roma aren’t quite friends, much as she knows that they’re just allies in this mega-rift epidemic, much as she knows that “trust” is a sensitive word with them??—

Part of her aches for the fact that Roma, who has more passion about spellcasting than Ez has ever seen in a human, probably won’t ever understand it on the level Ez has achieved. Not for lack of trying or skill or dedication, but??—

But she just won’t have enough time. No human does.

Taking a deep breath, Ez shoves the thought from her mind. “In any case, the mega-rifts probably aren’t being caused by a duplication or replication spell, and the magic bases of our counterspells are probably irrelevant. You mentioned how the mega-rifts keep changing locations, so let’s talk about leash and geolocation spells. How do the human variations of those work?”

Roma sits up straight, that gleam coming back into her eyes. Ez forces down the warm buzzing in her veins at the sight. “Well, a leash spell would be unlikely, because it generally can’t traverse distances of greater than a hundred feet?—and it would need a central spellcaster to maintain it. But with geolocation spells…”

Roma continues talking, going into detail about the intricacies of human-magic geolocation spells. They seem similar to their demon-magic counterparts, mainly differing in magic bases and a few other nuances, but Ez listens intently anyway.

She doesn’t quite think any of this will help end the mega-rift epidemic, but there’s part of her that really just likes being able to discuss spellcasting with an equal.

Part of her, maybe, that really just likes seeing how Roma views their shared craft.