Page 92 of Butterfly Effects

Normal leeches were too small for Mark’s purposes. They would burn out or fry before he could put any meaningful amount of math into them. Bloodworms, though … bloodworms were different. Largely because of scale. A leech two feet long has a lot more room for brain development than a leech that’s only three inches long. And they kept growing as long as they were alive.

The swamp that bordered on the Galway Wood is a dangerous place, in part because it’s one of the last flourishing bloodworm habitats in North America. We ran until the ground turned muddy, and then I produced a small knife from my pocket, using it to open a shallow cut on the back of my hand, which I turned over the nearest standing puddle, dripping blood into the water and stepping back to wait.

The puddle’s surface began to pulse and churn, and several bloodworms reared their head, looking for their promised meal. I promptly leaned down and grabbed them, shoving them into the grocery bag I had snatched during our charge through the kitchen. This achieved, I moved on to the next puddle.

Sam produced his own knife and emulated me, bleeding before going on a bloodworm-snatching spree. The large invertebrates were slow and not very clever, and it didn’t take us long to gather an even dozen, shoving them into my sack until it bulged. I held it out to Sam.

“Here,” I said. “Get these to Mark. I’ll meet you at the house.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone in the—”

“This is still the Galway Woods, Sam. I’ll be fine. The woods won’t let anything hurt me unless I’m stupid about where I walk. Just go, and I’ll be right there.”

Sam shot me a dubious look, then bounded off into the woods, heading back toward the house. I followed at a brisk but slower pace. I’m in incredibly good shape for a base human woman, absolutely. That doesn’t mean I can keep up with a fūri, and we needed to do this quickly. Every minute we waited was another minute where Sarah was alone with the Johrlac—or not. The time difference might be working in our favor here.

Even so, we couldn’t afford to screw around, and if we took too long, Mark might realize there was nothing we could do to make him help us and go back to his sister, who had waited more than long enough for him to come home to her. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, sure. It also makes love turn sour, and replaces regret with resentment. Cici deserved to have her brother back.

Just as much as we deserved to have Sarah back. My memories were almost done settling back into their places, and if I thought about the way I’d behaved during her trial, I felt an overwhelming shame. She was my cousin, my Sarah, and I’d told her to stop being a person and go be a cuckoo instead. I’d rejected her in a way that was personal and targeted enough that it should have been impossible without my memories, but those hadn’t come until after I’d done it. I felt like a terrible person. I felt like a monster.

Anyone can make a mistake. But not everyone can throw their words like knives and be that sure of hitting the target. I kept my head down and moved quickly, intent on getting out of the woods before something else came to complicate a situation that was already overly complicated. In the distance, I could hear something crashing around with giddy abandon. I just hoped it was Alice and Greg, not something more hostile.

Since I’d been bleeding recently and whatever it was didn’t seem to be tracking the scent, I was pretty sure it was them. I kept going until the trees thinned around me and I was emerging into the fields behind the house, the tall grasses springtime-green and gilded golden by the late afternoon sun. The sight of the house gave me my second wind. I broke into a run, clattering through the kitchen and into the dining room, where I paused to snatch one of the remaining charms from the table before heading down to the basement where Mark, Sam, and Artie were waiting in the circle.

Mark had arranged the bloodworms around the edge of the circle, lining them up so they formed an unbroken line. They weren’t moving. Mark’s eyes were glowing a faint, lambent white, and I was pretty sure those two things were connected. He looked over at the sound of my footsteps on the stairs.

“There you are,” said Mark. “Why are you all so hard to see? I didn’t hear you coming until you were on the stairs.”

“Anti-telepathy charms,” I said. “They help us stay out of sight when we’re dealing with a telepathic population, and they probably also keep the ambient telepathic force of Johrlar from melting our brains where we stand. It’s a weird travel accessory, but it works for us. Here.” I lobbed the spare charm I’d grabbed at Artie, who caught it easily and held it up to eye it with valid suspicion.

“Put it on,” advised Sam. “Johrlar is pretty loud if you’re not wearing one.”

I slanted him a sidelong look. “How do you know that?”

“I, uh, took mine off for a few seconds to see what all the fuss was about,” he admitted. “We were in the middle of the jungle at the time! It seemed like a reasonable risk!”

“There are no reasonable risks when your brain could end up getting melted in the process,” I said. Artie was still standing there, charm in his hand, not putting it on. “Artie? The cord goes over your neck.”

“Will Sarah be able to see me if I’m wearing this?” he asked.

“I think Sarah would be able to see you through all the telepathy blockers in the universe,” I said. “Seeing you was what convinced her to trade herself to the collective for our freedom. She’ll see you.”

He looked uncomfortable at that, but put the cord over his head, settling the charm against his chest. Mark rolled his eyes.

“This is all very sweet and sentimental and I’m touched, really, but the numbers change, you know? The longer we wait, the more the position of our respective dimensions can shift around, and the harder it is for me to get us where you want to go. I’m only doing this kind of favor for you assholes once. After this I’m going home to Cici, and we’re going to get on with our lives, far, far away from you.”

“And we appreciate that,” I said. “Bloodworms good enough to work?”

“They’re like little auxiliary processing units,” said Mark. “It’s like they have brains the whole length of their bodies, and no real sense of self to feel bad about deleting. I can just overload their buffers, let them crash, and then do it again. They’re perfect.”

“Glad we could help.” I stepped into the circle.

Sam smiled at me. Artie looked over and gave me a nervous nod. He’d picked up a handgun from the armory, and what looked like a collapsible baton: I was just glad he wasn’t going into this unarmed. When dealing with mammals, he could usually hide behind his pheromones. Well, that wasn’t going to work here.

Mark looked around at the three of us, eyes still glinting. “You’re ready? Because there’s not going to be a second bus out of here. We go now or we don’t go at all.”

“We’re getting her back,” said Artie firmly. “That has never been up for discussion.”

“Guess that means yes,” said Mark. His eyes flared, going from a light glow to a halogen burn, and the bloodworms around the edge of the circle began to twitch and undulate, forming a startlingly rhythmic pattern. He didn’t say anything. I was used to that from Sarah, whose math was so frequently a purely mental process.