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“That would be The Mermaid’s Whisper,” Tempest said. “Starring Ondalune. Some folks say she’s still alive and well and was a mermaid all along.” Tempest knew how she knew this one. The rumored sightings of the hundred-plus-year-old actress on Catalina Island had been all over the tabloids last year.

Fortune paused, then shifted vocal range again. A measured academic accent this time, unhurried, the tone of a nature documentary. She was enjoying herself.

“Certain bioluminescent organisms absorb light during the day and release it gradually in darkness, often invisibly, until conditions shift sufficiently for the glow to become visible. In the practice of natural magic, this principle is understood to apply equally to⁠—”

“Fortune.” Tempest cut her off. “They are not going to ask about natural magic at a trivia night for Ordinaries.”

Fortune ignored this and continued in the same voice. “But have you considered the answer?”

Tempest knew that voice. It was the voice of the author of The Mudpuddle Manual of Natural Magic.

“Wait.” Tempest held up a hand. Something had clicked. “You’re not running simple drills with me, are you?” She frowned at the road ahead. “You’re imitating different author’s voices. Authors of the many books I’ve touched. But it’s not only them. You want me to consider what I’ve picked up from their readers too?”

Fortune faced forward and bowed her head in a dignified nod.

“I can hear them all,” Tempest admitted. “I’ve been hearing them for years. But it’s hard to sort through. It’s like I met them all at a party and can’t always quite remember who was who, and which conversation was with a witch. But I’ve been remembering a bit more lately.” She stopped to check in with herself as to whether that was true. It was, she realized. Things were filling in more lately. Faintly, around the edges. Not a flood of new information. More like a tide that had been slowly coming in for some time without her noticing.

“And something else. I remember reading something about the atlas. “The Glass Atlas dates back to at least the first century BCE where stories mention it having been part of the collection at the Great Library of Alexandria.” Tempest wasn’t great at doing voices, and she couldn’t reproduce the one in her head that was sharing that tidbit. But it was a male voice, she thought. “Does that sound right to you, Fortune? Is it the same Glass Atlas that’s been in my family for so many generations? It can’t be that old, can it?”

Fortune did not answer. She shifted her weight from foot to foot and then stood for a moment, blinking at Tempest. They both looked down at the atlas on its shelf on the dashboard. The page it was open to was thin and seemed to glow faintly. A fine line of silver traced their path to the next stop in Denver.

They drove in silence for a moment.

“I wish my mom was here to tell me more.” Tempest sighed. “There’s just so much about our family I don’t understand.”

“Thirty-three.” This was starting to be Fortune’s mantra. “Soon you’ll see.”

Tempest looked at her. “Is that supposed to be about my birthday next month? Are you trying to tell me something?”

Fortune turned to look at the road and said nothing further.

“Helpful as always,” Tempest said. But she thought about it for the next fifty miles, in a low-grade way, the question sitting just below the surface of everything else. She didn’t have the bandwidth to pull it apart right now. She needed to deal with the competition in Denver first. Everything else could wait till afterwards.

Tempest was so tired from the long drive that when she arrived at The High Note Bar and Grill in Denver, several hours before the event was scheduled to begin, she laid down to take a nap. The next thing she knew, Fortune was standing over her, flapping her wings.

“Time to go! Brush your hair! Brush your teeth!”

The first thing Tempest saw when she stepped out into the lot were the three familiar motorcycles, emblazoned with her friends’ team name and emblems. She was glad to see the Hell’s Belles were here tonight. She’d been hoping to see Asha, Nell and Zara again. She was wondering if one of them would even be willing to partner with her. The High Note was another venue that did not allow solo competitors. Vance’s card was still in her pocket. Partnering with him would be the most strategic move, but she couldn’t stomach the thought.

“There you are!” Nell was sitting on the curb outside the entrance, smoking a clove cigarette. “We were about to send a search party to drag you out of the bus. You’ve been parked there since we got here and we’ve been here over an hour. You hiding from us?”

“I was sleeping!” Tempest waved away the smoke that was tickling her nose and burning her lungs.

Nell stubbed out her cigarette under a spur-clad heel. She linked arms with Tempest. “Never mind, you’re here now. Hopefully Zara will finally shut up about how excited she is to beat Asha again. Let’s get you all set up and checked in so we can order a round before the competition starts.”

Tempest collected her game card and followed Nell back to the table where Zara and Asha were already waiting.

“Gracious goddesses!” Zara gushed. “I didn’t want to sit this one out again. These two haven’t let me play a single game since our last win. Can we please be partners again?” Zara looked at her hopefully. Tempest scanned the crowd, quickly picking out the one other person she recognized, who she wasn’t looking forward to seeing tonight.

Vance Priest was surrounded by a squadron of fans. He was signing their hats and coasters and, in some cases, their game cards. He looked up from his fan circle and met her eye, raising one brow as he circled a finger between himself and her, as an obvious invitation to team up. When she shook her head no, he smirked and shrugged, quickly returning to his fans. Tempest felt sure he’d have no problem getting one of them to team up with him. Better them than her.

“What a pointless peacock.” Asha saw where Tempest was looking and rolled her eyes. “You know he cheats? Born without a moral compass. One of these days, I’m going to have to show him the value of hard work.” Her eyes flashed a cold silvery blue against her beautiful dark skin and Tempest found herself wondering yet again what kind of magic her new friends wielded.

“I’d be more than happy to cut him down to size,” Nell added, grinning in a way that exposed her pointy teeth.

“Remind me never to cross your crew,” Tempest murmured to Zara.

Zara patted her arm and gave her a quick bony hug. She was all elbows and collarbones, but it was still nice. “You have nothing to fear from us, dear Tempest. I told you, we’ve got your back, always!”