Chapter 31
31
S o we need the best counterspell,” Ez says, her eyes roving over the eight pieces of paper on the picnic table between them. “One that we’ll only have to cast once.”
Roma fights back a shudder. “Definitely. If we got it wrong the first time, we could hypothetically try a different spell, but…”
Ez finishes the thought. “But that’s only if the Deep lets us live long enough. Best not to tempt fate.”
“Agreed.” Roma leans forward to examine their reversals more closely, squinting against the glare. Their rift-closing shift just ended ten minutes ago with the arrival of their overnight spellcasters, and now, the direct angle from the sun to Roma’s eyes is making it difficult to concentrate.
Not to mention the noise level along Lakeside. Now that summer is nearly here?—and now that most civilians are desensitized to the ever-present threat of the mega-rifts?—everyone is out for a Friday night by the lake, and frankly, Roma isn’t a huge fan of the crowds.
Determinedly, she rallies her frayed nerves to focus. “Let’s start with the only two neutral bases we didn’t share,” she says, pointing at the offending counterspells. “You don’t like Malachi?”
Ez wrinkles her nose. “It’s very… human-lite. I know that it’s technically neutral, but it reads closer to human magic than demon magic. Not a fan.” She nods at the other counterspell. “I’m surprised you didn’t use the Abdullahi base, though. Isn’t it one of the first neutral bases you learned in spellcasting class? That’s what JJ said when I asked him last night.”
Roma starts with surprise. “You talked to JJ about the counterspell?”
Ez shrugs one shoulder. There’s a faint line of tension to her jaw?—the same line, Roma knows, that’s always there whenever Roma asks about Ez’s friends?—but it’s much less pronounced than it used to be. “I wanted to make sure I used neutral bases you were familiar with. Some are more common in different parts of the world, or even different parts of the country.” Her head tips to one side. “But you’re not a fan of Abdullahi?”
Roma shakes her head. “It was one of the first neutral bases in our basic spellcasting class, but that’s partly why I don’t like it. It’s too general. Hard to achieve the specificity necessary for a point-by-point reversal.”
Ez’s lips twitch as she puts the two spells off to the side. “I can’t argue with that. So if we eliminate Malachi and Abdullahi, then that leaves us with Jeong, Pasquale, and Blakeman. Which is your favorite?”
“Blakeman,” Roma says immediately. “By a long shot. That was actually the first counterspell I wrote two nights ago, even before I wrote the human-magic variations.”
“But it’s?—?” Ez’s voice is drowned out by a throng of high school students walking by, clearly celebrating the end of final exams. She impatiently waits until they’re gone to continue speaking. “But it’s not as specific as Pasquale. What makes you like it better?”
Roma scrunches her nose. “Honestly, Pasquale is too specific?—so specific, in fact, that a single word choice can make or break the incantation. We need a framework that’s comprehensive enough to contain all our nuances, but not so strict that we don’t have any flexibility.”
Ez peers at their notes. “And it looks like we had fourteen words in the Pasquale base where we differed,” she says, decisively putting the twin reversals on their reject pile. “I agree on allowing the spell some leeway. So why not??—??”
Abruptly, there’s a drone of feedback. Roma almost jumps out of her seat, whipping around. At the next table over, there are a handful of college students plugging instruments into portable amplifiers, clearly getting ready to provide some entertainment.
Ez huffs indignantly. “All right. That’s it,” she says, and before Roma can react, she sweeps up their counterspells, snaps open a rift, and waves Roma through. “Grab our food, will you? We’re going somewhere quieter.”
“Sure,” Roma says, securing her bibimbap and Ez’s currywurst before walking forward. “But it’s a Friday night, so I doubt many public places will be??—?”
Roma’s feet land on a hardwood floor. Her eyes widen in shock.
This isn’t an offbeat café or pizzeria like she expected. No, this is a living room? —two comfortable couches off to one side, a flat-screen television in the far corner, and a cozy kitchen with a small table just ahead.
This is a residential building. This is a house. This is??—
“Is?—??” Roma swallows hard. “Is this, um, your home?”
Ez scoffs, looking away. “Of course not. It’s just, uh. Just my second-favorite safe house.”
A strange tendril of disappointment seeps through Roma. It’s quickly coupled with a spark of butterflies at the fact that Ez looks almost as disappointed as Roma feels. “Ah.”
“Yep.” Clearing her throat, Ez leads the way into the kitchen. “Anyway, it’s quieter here. And we need to talk about the Jeong base, lackey. What do you have against the Jeong base?”
“I…” Roma follows her to the kitchen table, gingerly sitting down across from her. “I don’t have anything against it, per se. It’s just not as intuitive to me as Blakeman. And Blakeman is shorter, so there’s less room for error.”
“Hm. Good point,” Ez says, and she spreads their two copies of the Blakeman reversal between them. “And, above all, I think it’s pretty telling that we both instinctively chose the Blakeman base for this particular counterspell?—and that we only have a two-word difference between our drafts.” She taps one of the examples. “In this line, I use the word ‘close,’ but you use the word ‘shutter.’”
“‘Close’ is more accurate,” Roma agrees, “but ‘shutter’ maintains the number of syllables. Can we find a word that’s as precise as ‘close,’ just with two syllables instead of one?”
Ez considers. “How about ‘shut down’? That’s hard to misinterpret.”
Roma’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s perfect,” she says, and she makes a note on the counterspell. “How about this section? You have ‘energy,’ and I have ‘power.’ We’ll want two syllables for this one, too.”
Ez skims over the line. “‘Magic’?”
Briefly, Roma remembers the eloquent Johannes base from yesterday. “I think you missed your calling as a poet, Ez.”
“Meh. Spellcasting is more fun, anyway,” Ez says, and her eyes flicker up to meet Roma’s. “Well, uh. I guess that’s it. This is our counterspell.”
Roma’s stomach lurches. That’s it? Less than two days of work, and they already have what they need? “It… feels too easy.”
“That’s what I said yesterday.”
“I know, but?—?” Roma lets out her breath in a hiss. “You said you’ve tapped into the Deep before, right?”
“Only a few times,” Ez says. “Three or four, tops.”
“And you didn’t experience any adverse effects?”
“The biggest adverse effect from pissing off the Deep is ‘death,’” Ez says, “and, as you can see, I’ve been blessedly unaffected by that.” Her eyes narrow. “But you’ve mentioned that Sanctum spellcasters have a high mortality rate with the Deep. How bad are we talking?”
Roma winces. “One hundred percent mortality.”
Ez almost chokes. “One hundred percent? Are you saying that no Sanctum spellcaster has ever come out of a brush with the Deep alive?”
“Not one,” Roma confirms quietly. “Honestly, the only reason I felt confident with our checking spell is because it specifically analyzed the Deep without touching it. Do you think it might be more suited to demon magic than human magic?”
Ez shakes her head. “Human spellcasters have successfully accessed the Deep before. I wouldn’t say it’s common, but we get a human who manages it without dying every few years.” Her eyes turn wary. “It might genuinely be a skill issue. No offense to your entire way of life and all that, but Sanctum hunters tend to have an overconfident streak. They might’ve been lower-level spellcasters who thought they could mess with the Deep, but didn’t actually have the requisite abilities.”
Vividly, Roma remembers thinking she could handle a pre-WMSA spell, despite years of being warned not to meddle with them. “You’re not wrong,” she admits softly.
“But I do have confidence in your spellcasting, specifically,” Ez continues. “You’re objectively an advanced spellcaster, and you’re definitely the best human spellcaster in Redwater?—maybe even the best in the state. I think we should be able to tap into the Deep without a fuss.”
Roma’s heart flutters. Ez clearly isn’t trying to build Roma up or compliment her, not when both of their lives could be on the line if this reversal goes south. No, she’s genuinely just stating the facts as she sees them.
She really does respect Roma as a spellcaster. Roma swallows hard past the warmth in her chest at the thought. “Um, thanks,” she says, hastily looking down at their counterspells to hide the blush creeping up her neck. “So what now? We should get some second opinions, right?”
“Second, third, fourth, and possibly even fifth,” Ez agrees grimly, settling back in her chair to think. “I’ll ask my crew. Spellcasting isn’t any of their fortes, but Obie in particular has been on Earth for long enough to know the rules?—he’s probably forgotten more than I’ll ever learn just via osmosis. Same with Maggie Khan. And Cass and JJ can look over the spell from a baseline academic standpoint, which is always useful.”
A pang twists through Roma at the thought of JJ checking a spell that she helped to create. Just like old times. “Sounds good,” she says eventually. “I’ll run it past the Council, too?—they can enlist our best spellcasters to analyze it. They want this over just as much as the rest of us.”
This could be the perfect opportunity to conduct more research for Operation Thirteen.
Roma aggressively shoves the memory away. Regardless of whatever Operation Thirteen is, she doubts it’s important enough to justify delaying the end of the epidemic.
Besides, it hasn’t escaped Roma’s notice that the Sanctum primarily sends out purebred spellcasters for the overnight rift- closing shifts. They’ve probably been able to conduct all the research they need.
Ez wrinkles her nose. “That should work. Just make sure the Council doesn’t try to pull the bloodlines card and send out a purebred spellcaster to replace you. I don’t trust any of them as far as I can throw them.”
Roma snorts with surprise. “I doubt any purebred spellcasters would want this job?—not with the aforementioned mortality rate.”
Ez’s lips twitch. “And we should probably touch base with some others, too,” she says, and she grimaces. “Like the Conspiracy Fam.”
Roma’s stomach churns. “Oh. You mean, uh, Micah and Gregorio?”
“Yep.” Ez looks roughly as unenthusiastic about the prospect as Roma feels. “Micah’s spellcasting isn’t amazing, but he can triple-check the basics. And Gregorio is in the same camp as Obie and Maggie?—he’s been alive for long enough to have insights we might not have considered.” Her eyes narrow. “How about Naomi and Sawyer? They were the ones who figured out the Deep was involved in the first place, after all.”
Bitterness crawls up Roma’s throat. “Sawyer’s spellcasting isn’t great?—or it wasn’t six years ago, at least. But Naomi… might be an option. She didn’t take any advanced spellcasting classes, but she always helped me study for mine. She picked up a decent amount of knowledge from that.”
“Do you want to reach out to her?” Ez’s expression is neutral and her words are careful. Not trying to pressure Roma, but making it clear that the option is there.
The thought of asking Naomi for help with this?—for help with anything, really?—makes Roma feel faintly nauseous. She cinches her fingers more tightly together. “Not really,” she says evenly. “If you’re going to run this by Micah and Gregorio anyway, could you just ask them to pass it on?”
Relief floods through her when Ez nods. “Sure. It’ll be more efficient that way, anyway,” she says, and she hesitates. “But what’s the deal with you and Naomi? Are you just, you know, planning on never speaking to her again?”
Roma fights back a scowl. “I mean, if I can manage it, then yes. Exactly.”
“Sounds healthy.”
“What?” Roma demands, a little harder than she intended. “Are you going to try and guilt me into forgiving her because ‘oh, you’re sisters’?”
Ez rolls her eyes. “Of course not. We’ve both known for a long time that you have a very complicated history with Naomi, and frankly, I’d still be salty about the abrupt six-year abandonment, too. Forgiving her is your decision, no one else’s.”
Some of Roma’s instinctive anger deflates. “Oh. Okay.”
“But…” Ez’s voice is measured. “You might want to consider talking to her at least one more time. Not necessarily to make amends or reconcile or anything like that, but?—but just for closure. Especially since you still look ready to bite anyone’s head off who so much as mentions her, it might be helpful to figure out where you stand. Maybe even set some boundaries.” She arches an eyebrow. “Or have you not been living in constant fear that she’s going to contact you at any given moment?”
Roma almost laughs. “I don’t want to admit how accurate that is,” she says, slumping back in her seat, “but yeah. Yeah, that’s accurate.”
“So just consider it,” Ez says. “I’ll check in with Micah and Gregorio, and if they offer to bring the counterspell to Naomi and Sawyer, great. If not, then that’ll leave the option open for you, should you choose to take it. Okay?”
When Roma looks at Ez, her eyes are sincere. She genuinely wants what’s best for Roma, genuinely wants her to have the chance to make this decision, genuinely wants Roma to be the one to make this decision. No pressure. No ulterior motives.
Just honest caring.
And Roma looks at Ez, and for the briefest of moments, she imagines??—
Imagines what it would be like if things were different. If Ez wasn’t a demon and Roma wasn’t a hunter. If they didn’t meet under the worst possible circumstances, if Roma didn’t betray her within weeks of claiming to be on her side, if they weren’t forced into this current alliance by a mistake that Roma can’t even begin to explain to Ez.
She imagines what it would be like if she and Ez could just be. If Roma knew this house’s address, and if she could walk in with tacos anytime she wanted, complaining about the latest nonsense and rambling about esoteric spellcasting principles. If Roma actually had any sort of claim on Ez’s life, if she actually took up any space there, and wasn’t just looking in from the outside.
If they could expand on their fragile alliance and shaky friendship, grow it and nurture it and deepen it into something precious. Something different.
Something that Roma doesn’t think she’s ever quite felt before.
Instead, she’s under orders to betray both Ez and Ez’s friends again. She started this collaboration?—started this epidemic?— for the sole purpose of getting close enough to bring JJ back to the Sanctum, and even though the last dregs of Roma’s resolve are wobbling on shaky ground, the Council doesn’t have any such issues.
She’ll either need to betray Ez or fail her mission. It’s that simple.
Simple, and the most complicated web Roma has ever found herself tangled in. “Yeah,” she says eventually, nodding. “Closure is?—is good. I’ll think about it. Thanks, Ez.”
“Mm-hm,” Ez says, giving her a half-smile, and Roma??—
Roma tries not to think about how her own closure with Ez is probably going to come sooner than she really wants.
Or about how it’s probably going to tear her heart open even more than it already is.