36. Sam The Portal #2
Clementine paced to Rosetta’s desk and rested a hand briefly, distractedly, on the back of her sister’s chair.
She wheeled back toward the room, her gaze abstracted.
Abruptly, she crossed the room and threw open the door to Rosetta’s bedroom, where a small lamp on the nightstand illuminated the space.
It was prettier than Clem’s, with lace curtains and a profusion of pressed flowers in small, gilt frames.
The bed was neatly made. Clementine sat down slowly upon it and pressed her hand against the pillow; it had a scalloped edge and a spray of lavender embroidered at the center.
Wister had come to stand in the doorway, and Clementine looked up at her.
Her voice, as she spoke, was a whisper. It was the quiet murmur she usually used to speak to me.
She lifted her hand from the pillow. “I will go to the spirit realm tonight.”
For a moment I was too shocked to respond, but in the silence that followed, as Clem and Wister stared at each other, I collected myself. I sent Clementine a surge of encouragement. Yes. Yes, come find me. I knew she had felt my approbation, because she gave the barest nod.
And then she said, “I will find Rosetta and bring her back.”
Wister looked at her with genuine horror. “Clementine, no. That’s not a path you wish to take. Bringing back a loved one as a thew is bound to be disastrous. Remember what happened to Hojeda. And Peabody. And Wintersmith.”
Clem’s face was stony. “I don’t care. I’m not them. They were all pursuing wives and lovers. This is different. They’ve taken her life. They’ve taken her body. But they can’t take her spirit.”
“Clementine,” Wister said in a measured tone. “It’s too soon to think of such things. You are shocked, as you well should be. And you’ll be grieving, perhaps for a long time. But after a while, you’ll realize that there are other things to live for. You need not tie yourself to the dead.”
“I have nothing else to live for,” Clementine said harshly. “The only reason I cared about enchantment was so that I could one day learn the medical enchantment that would allow me to keep Rosetta in good health. That was my only purpose, Wister, do you understand that? My only purpose.”
“I don’t believe you,” Wister said gently. “You love enchantment for its own sake. I’ve seen it.”
“You’re wrong,” Clementine retorted. “It was only ever a means to an end—to keep Rosetta well.” She walked abruptly past Wister and disappeared through the door of her bedroom.
She emerged a moment later carrying the armor sack, which now looked notably lighter.
“I have armored boots; I have a case for the shroud. All I need is rope, which I suspect you may have.”
Wister shook her head. “Clementine, please. I must insist.”
“Then I’ll go without you.”
“You don’t know the location of the portal.”
“Yes, I do.” Clementine gave a small, triumphant smile.
“Indeed I do. Isn’t that why you’ve stayed at Keel House all these years, long after you were ready to rejoin the world?
It’s not out of charity, or out of the wish to remain in the company of women at the edges of society.
It’s because one of its doors is a portal.
” The astonishment on Wister’s face was all the answer she needed.
Clem went on relentlessly. “It’s common knowledge that the only portals within striking distance are the one in Providence, now lost, and the one in Greater Boston used by the Cisneros Society—but there is a third.
I knew not only because of your willingness to stay at Keel House, when you could easily afford to live unencumbered somewhere else, but also because of your tinted glasses.
Isn’t that why you wear them? Because you enter the spirit realm regularly, and are perpetually burdened by the residues that you see upon your return?
And the map. Your map is far too expansive, with far too much detail found nowhere else, to be the work of someone who has not spent time in the spirit realm.
I believe you’ve explored it often.” Wister still didn’t speak, but her face acknowledged every point.
“Tell me,” Clem demanded. “Are you also in league with the Cisneros Society?”
“Spirits below!” This accusation seemed to jolt Wister out of her astonishment. “Never. We are devoted to countering them.”
Clem’s eyes narrowed. “We?”
“Yes. We.” Wister crossed her arms and looked gravely at the younger woman.
“We are the Sor Juana Alliance, an ancient and renowned society dedicated to the fair practice of enchantment. I am the head of the Massachusetts chapter. We are everything Cisneros is not, and we have protected this portal from them for years—I won’t allow you to imperil that. ”
Clementine took a deep breath. “The Sor Juana Alliance,” she echoed. I could see that the name was new to her, as it was to me. “I won’t. I have no wish to imperil anything. Please, Wister. I’ll try every door in the house, and eventually I’ll find the right one. Please help me.”
Wister stared at her for several seconds longer, indecision and sympathy crossing her face in quick succession. “Very well, Clementine,” she said quietly. “I’ve heard you. And I will help.”
So saying, the two women left the apartment, making their way down the steps, across Salem, and toward the portal at Keel House.
The moment had arrived. At last.
On the other side of the portal, I was waiting.