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“Where’s my map?” I yell, throwing the door to my apartment open.
Bennet jumps, and rightfully so, because he has no idea what’s happened or why I’m wet and screaming and frantic. He probably doesn’t even realize anything has changed since yesterday or this morning, when my depression was threatening to due me in. But it has—with Etta, I can breathe. She changes me, so she needs to keep breathing.
“Table?” Bennet says nervously. “What’s wrong?”
My words are incomplete, half sentences as I stumble over to the living room coffee table, a desperate blind-man in the dark. “She’s gone.”
“Who’s gone?”
We had a similar conversation when my sister went missing, if somewhat less intense. I scried for her location too, searched for her for weeks to no avail. But this time, I won’t fail. I’ll find Etta.
I explain the broad strokes of the situation as best I can while rolling out my map across the table and taking my pendulum out of the box. I have several—a clear crystal at the end of a silver chain, a standard copper one, and a pocket watch just for variety. The crystal seems right, and I go with my gut, wrapping the crystal around my middle finger and holding it over the map.
The crystal swings at the end of the pendulum, back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm while I focus as hard as I can on Etta’s location. It keeps swinging and I grind my teeth.
“Fuck!” I yell, resisting the urge to throw everything. That won’t help—I know from experience.
“Are you looking for her?” Bennet asks.
“No shit.”
“No, not that. I mean, you find stuff.”
I stare at him blankly. I don’t have time for this. We have no fucking idea where she is or what could be happening to her right now. None. “Get to the point.”
“Try finding something she was wearing.”
I run a hand through my hair. That’s not really how this works. Looking for a shirt could turn up any fucking shirt, it has to be specific—preferably specific to me.Except…
I don’t explain it as I start again, picturing Etta’s ring this time instead of her personally—the ring I gave her only hours ago. I think of how much I love her. Of how there was never anyone else who could have worn it.
There’s a crack as my crystal falls, and I look down, surprised. My chain broke. “Fucking hell.”
“No,” Bennet hits my arm. “Look where it fell.”
ChapterTwenty-Seven
ETTA
My head throbs, pounding like I spent all night drinking or standing next to the speaker at a rock concert. Even the slightest motion—wincing, or moving my eyebrows up or down sends pain shooting through my temples.
I moan, and try to roll over, and my arms pull over head. I try to blink, try to force my eyes open, and can’t. Like they’re glued shut by sleep or paralysis.
Panic rises in my throat, and goosebumps skitter down my arms. Oh my gods.Oh my—
“Don’t overexert yourself,” Councilman Lawrence’s voice echoes from somewhere behind me. “It may take a few minutes to be able to move normally, but the sedative should wear off. I’ve given you the antidote so we can talk.”
Fear spikes, my panic rising even higher and I struggle to open my eyes again. That is the opposite of comforting.
I gasp—or I would, if I could. My mouth doesn’t quite work, but my chest rises suddenly as everything comes flooding back.
Roman, saying he loved me. Him telling me about what Aunt Angelica said and us coming to the castle to meet Councilman Lawrence. Me, running up the stairs alone and into the front hall, and the Councilman waiting for me. Then…nothing.
I try to take a breath. Try to calm down and figure out where I am and what’s going on.
There is an earthiness in the air. Dirt and dust. Wetness, and the scent of rain, and the smell of hot wax and smoke.
I'm lying on something hard and cold, like stone or metal, and I can't hear a single thing in the silence but the Councilman's breathing and a distant drip of water.
