“I don’t think I ever will,” I said, “But thanks.”
“And-” he said.
I tensed. Please stop talking.
“-I sorta get why Alexis is extra important to you. If something happens, and if I can, I’ll look out for her.”
I let out a breath I’d inadvertently been holding in, and a small part of it was relief.
“That’s it,” Evan said.
I nodded.
I headed back to Rose and Maggie. While I did it, I adjusted my scarf, making sure Evan had enough coverage that cold air wouldn’t leak around him.
“That was good wording, by the way,” I said. “That promise? I’m happier hearing you be careful like that than I am hearing a straight-up oath. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We reached the circle.
The Behaims were moving around more, according to the connections, but not in our direction.
“What was that about?” Maggie asked.
“Needed to finish a discussion,” I said. “Nothing that should negatively affect you guys.”
“If you say so. He’s inside. I can see him moving around. Now what?”
“Now for the hard part,” Rose murmured.
I could make her out, and it was my first real clear view of her since this skirmish had started. Her hair had been cut short enough that it hung only to the nape of her neck, and it wasn’t an even cut. Styled, it might look good, but it wasn’t. The bits at the back were shorter than the bits closer to the front of her face.
In a way, it made me think of a bird’s wings.
“Well,” I said, shaking my head until I was more focused, “Not the hard part quite yet. We just need to bind him without his cooperation, and without letting him go. Then we get to the hard part.”
“I meant ‘now’ as in the next leg of this. I’m open to suggestions on how to do this binding.”
“Let me try,” Maggie said.
Maggie reached into her bag. She pulled out Black Lamb’s Blood, and the remains of the cord that had bound the text.
Using her athame, she held the cord out, so only the blade extended past the edge of the circle. She deposited the string within, then rearranged it with the blade, walking around it and poking the cord into place.
When the cord formed a circle, the ends overlapping, she stuck her athame in the ring of crimson snow, cutting it in half.
“The hair?” Rose asked.
“I should be able to use what’s here,” Maggie said. “If I can’t, you do have more on your head.”
“I’d rather not,” Rose said.
“You could use hair from elsewhere,” Maggie said, arching an eyebrow, athame raised.
I shuddered a bit.
“Couldn’t resist,” Maggie said, as she got back to work. “That really bothers you?”
“She’s me. It’s like you’re talking about doing something rude to my sister.”
Maggie began pushing the crimson snow into a tighter ring, one small enough to just encircle the mirror.
She began moving the pages, each of which had snow on it, the snow pushed down into a trench-like depression, with the hair within. The process was slower. She did three, adjusting the trench as she went, then circled around to do the opposite three, keeping it relatively symmetrical, moving each page as far as it would go without breaking contact with the ones on either side.
On the other side of the street, two houses down, the Behaim kids emerged. Duncan was leaning on the tallest one, his arms wrapped in bandages that were already crimson with blood where they had been cut to the bone, his hands dangling limp.
I was frozen as I watched them make their way over the snow, their attention on the snow immediately underfoot.
I could practically count down, their pace was so measured.
They reached the end of the path, stopping at the foot of the driveway.
They see.
Laird lay face down in the snow.
I swallowed hard.
“Blake,” Rose said.
“Hm?”
“About what you said before, theatrics are important. I don’t know for sure, but if the spirits are on the fence, and if I’m not sabotaging you by telling you this, well, it seems like they would be more inclined to take your side if you acted like you were right.”
I nodded slowly.
Maggie was still going, the papers halfway to the inner circle of blood.
“Can we leave you to it?” I asked.
“You can. Should you? Don’t know. Those kids are going to be upset.”
I nodded.
I crossed the street, approaching the kids.
They hadn’t budged from where Laird lay, Duncan now standing between the two teenagers, who worked together to support him. The younger ones stood on either side of Laird.
One was one of his sons, if I remembered right.
The younger girl was crying, hands to her mouth.
They tensed as I drew near. I raised my hands.
“It’s over,” I said. “Please don’t make this any worse than it’s been. I’m… pretty fucked up, but you guys have Duncan to look after, I…”
I was having trouble articulating why they shouldn’t hit me with their worst.
Seeing the expressions on their faces, I wasn’t fully convinced, myself.
They looked to the oldest teenager for guidance.
Eyes lowered, still propping Duncan up with one arm, he very deliberately let go of his implement, letting it drop into one pocket.
The others relaxed, or they didn’t look poised to jump me.
“You know what gets me?” he asked, tone dull. “English. The language doesn’t do us justice in situations like this, does it?”
He met my eyes.
Being so close to where I’d relived the memories, I felt like my mind was some sort of minefield. If I thought the wrong thing, or thought in the wrong direction, I might crack, or snap, or get pulled back into recollections.
People suck, my own words to Evan, in my head.
“You’re right, sometimes there aren’t the words to say what you really want to say,” I said.
“There are a lot of things I could call you,” he said. “But I couldn’t call you a motherfucker without lying, and it doesn’t feel like the word has enough force to it, does it?”
“I promised you I’d avoid hurting him too much,” I said. “Not to kill him if- I think I said I wouldn’t kill him if I could help it.”
“My uncle is dead. It doesn’t look like it was clean,” he said. “I could call you forsworn. The spirits will get around to it if it’s deserved, but I could call you on it right here, decide how it plays out.”
I nodded slowly.
The older girl said, “Nothing to say? No words in your own defense?”
“If you’d name me forsworn,” I said, “I’d challenge you to walk through the last ten minutes in my shoes. See what I saw, feel what I felt, and then decide I was out of line and that I didn’t try.”
“The wording was, with minor differences, that you’d avoid hurting him too much, full stop. You’d avoid killing him if you could, circumstances allowing, full stop.”
I did what I could to avoid flinching or showing doubt.
I even did what I could to avoid thinking about my doubts.
I needed to sell this, not just to them, but to the spirits that were observing.
“In terms of quantity of blows, it was only the one,” I said. “In terms of the pain inflicted… I think it was a very low number on a scale of one to ten. I offered him some help after the fact.”