Page 69 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

“For tricking us. For lying to Thea, especially. And for stranding us here.”

“I can’t say I disagree with any of that,” Tara says. “An apology is the least of what you owe us, if you’re the reason we’re stuck in this awful place.”

Govannon shudders, visibly horrified. “Did you really do this on purpose?”

Zeph doesn’t answer.

Rosa says, “For the record, I’m with Tara. I’m done pretending I don’t find this shit troubling. I knew about Zeph’s plans to delay the group, but they didn’t mention anything about the In-Between.”

All at once, their bravado drains away, leaving a different Zeph. Their face is wan and worried, past the uncaring glamour they’ve maintained. “I don’t know if I’ve done the best thing. At the time, it felt like the only thing. If you had all the details about my background and the situation, if you understood my—”

“We need to talk,” I cut in. “Now.”

Narrowing my eyes, I glare to stress how much I don’t care about their problems.

Zeph replies, “It’s not that I disagree, but we’re short on privacy, and I don’t have the hound’s facility for tracking. If we wander off, we might not see the others again.”

“Then we step to the other side of the rock and whisper.” I stomp over to where I’ve pointed, though standing water turns my angry footfalls into splashes instead of the thunderous pronouncement I’d prefer.

Somewhat to my surprise, Zeph follows. “Go ahead. I suspect you’d like to call me a few choice names before we get to the real issue.”

They’re right, dammit. And by saying that, they’ve made it impossible for me to do it without seeming predictable. “Which is?”

“How we’re avoiding this marital alliance.”

I stare at them silently, not giving any sign of my thoughts. Zeph deserves to sweat over what they’ve done. And now, put in context, I recall how they said it would be convenient to seduce me. Is that why…? It’s not that I’m interested in them, but it stings how quickly they dismissed me.

For the first time, their eyes widen as they evince surprise at my reaction. “Don’t tell me you’re in favor of this charade? We don’t have an ounce of chemistry.”

Unlike Zeph, however, I can’t lie even to make them uncomfortable. The truth spills out. “You’re more like an annoying sibling than someone I can imagine myself marrying.”

“We have that much in common,” Zeph exclaims, beaming.

I scowl at them. “I’m not the liar, though. Or the saboteur.”

“Right, I should have clarified, you’re not annoying in the slightest. But you’re not the sort of person who could move me to romantic interest either.”

It’s hard not to feel vaguely offended. “Agreed, we have all the spark of wet kindling.” Sighing, I add, “I feel like such a soft touch. You must’ve realized that I’d agree to any plan to get me out of our contract marriage. Why didn’t you tell me a long time ago?”

“At first, I wanted to take your measure. And then I became wary of your bond with Kerboros. I did think you would cooperate, but I also suspected you’d share anything I told you with Winter’s hound. And I believed he was still compelled to report everything he learned to his cousin. No one has any notion that he’s managed to break his geas.”

I grimace. Unfortunately, that makes sense, not that I think logical explanations justify our current predicament. “So secrets got us here. Yours. His. Well, no more of that. It’s time to reveal your genius scheme.”

32

Fearful Symmetry

This is the only painting the artist has ever completed. It’s clearly an experiment, and the brushwork is primitive and unskilled. There is only the vague suggestion of what might be a feline creature, a cat-sìth, surrounded by dark shapes, looming in green and brown. Familiarity with the artist’s work might allow one to guess that those are trees. A forest, perhaps. The rest of the hand-stretched canvas is washed in darkness, eclipsing other details. A jagged slash violates the upper portion of the painting, an expression of utmost rage. That, too, speaks as much as the depicted images. Some truths can only be carved with knives.

Kerboros

“Are you serious?” Thea shouts. “How can you not have an exit strategy?”

I step closer, ready to take her side. But before I reach Thea and Zeph, the mist thickens, and as it becomes more opaque, it also darkens, shifting hues from bone to charcoal. Now it’s an inky swirl, obscuring my vision entirely. The fog coils around me, soft susurration whispering around me, soulless hunger born from the void.

Self-preservation forces me to stop. Without my intending to use it, my magic flicks out, an eternity of training that makes it my instinctive reaction. Except it’s not to save myself; I’m looking for Thea. And the trail simply…ends. As far as the tracking magic can determine, I’m alone in this place. The living shadow envelops me, crawling over my skin like a swarm of insects, all skittering feet and obsidian eyes.

“Thea!” I call to her, but the fog does more than swallow me whole. It also steals my voice and carries it away in dying echoes.