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“Yes. We know. And, for the first time in more years than I can count, I admit to a feeling of . . . astonishment.”
I didn’t say anything. I just wished he’d go away. But apparently, ancient demons leave when they want to.
“At first, we did not understand,” he told me, still sounding faintly surprised. “We thought you would shift out when the witches had gone. We thought you were . . . grandstanding? Is that the word?”
“Look it up,” I told him harshly, and swung my legs out of bed.
“But then, when you did not . . . when we realized you would not, even to save yourself . . . it occurred to us that perhaps it is possible to be too cynical. To forget that not everyone thinks as we do.”
And he couldn’t have had that epiphany yesterday, I thought, pain twisting in my gut. I felt dizzy with it, aching. As if part of me had been carved out and left gasping on the floor. I wanted to scream, to rant, to throw things. I wanted to cry and never stop. I wanted him gone so I could curl around my hurt.
“You said several reasons?” I rasped.
“Yes. I wished, we wished, to give you this,” he said, taking out what looked like an eel-skin wallet, but probably wasn’t. And handing me something from inside.
It was a piece of paper. A lined bit of notebook paper, which seemed kind of chintzy for an ancient demon, but I didn’t care. Because all it had on it were a bunch of meaningless squiggles.
“What is this?” I demanded, thinking about tearing it up.
“The counterspell.”
I looked at it blankly for a moment, and then up at him. I don’t know what was on my face, but he searched it for a long time. And then smiled slightly.
“That is what I meant. This is what I had . . . forgotten.”
That meant exactly nothing to me. “Why . . .” I cleared my throat. “Why are you doing this?”
“The council believes that it is unlikely that someone who aspired to world-altering power would so easily give up not only her quest, but her life,” he told me gently. “And for creatures who could be of no use to her.”
“Then . . . this is real.” I looked back down at it, my heart starting to beat.
“Yes, it is real. If you can find him before the curse concludes, you can save him. But I warn you—it will not be easy. The spell we used was specifically designed to thwart your power. His soul will pass through each year of his life only once and then never again. Afterward, you can use your abilities to return to the same moment again and again, but you will not find it there.”
I clutched the paper in one fist, hearing it crinkle. “But . . . I can’t read this.”
“It is an ancient tongue; there are few who can. Fortunately, one of them is pleased to accompany you.”
“Pleased is not the word I would use,” came a scathing voice. Right before something hit me in the solar ple
xus.
It was a backpack. And holding an identical one was—
“Oh, shit.”
“My feelings exactly,” Rosier hissed. “Now get dressed. We’re running out of time.”
“Are there clothes in here?” I demanded.
“Yes—”
“Then I’ll dress when we get there. When are we going?”
“Eighteen eighty. And you’d better damned well hope we catch him there.”
“Why there?”
“The curse gets progressively faster as it goes on, girl! And I’ve no desire to go larking around some barbaric era with the likes of—”
