Echo called soon after I left Markos’s. I’d been walking in circles around his neighborhood, killing time before Kay’s birthday dinner, turning over the idea of Win in my head. The few things I knew about him, the little clues I’d learned. How much Markos missed him. How I’d changed when I was with him. They formed the outline of a person, defined by his effect on others, and together didn’t add up to a real human being.
Markos said if I’d really loved Win, I would’ve wanted to remember. I thought about my parents. Perhaps I didn’t love them enough. Perhaps if I’d cared more I could’ve kept the memory of the fire and built up a scab around it. Then at least I’d have the scar to show for all the pain.
It occurred me that it was August 1.
I was supposed to be in New York, but I couldn’t prove to Jess that I could dance, so she’d never called the movers back after canceling them. She’d stopped putting things in boxes, too. Dishes and books appeared back on their shelves overnight.
Echo’s voice was bright in my ear. A strange contrast to the thoughts of Win and New York.
“Can you come by?” Echo asked.
“Now?”
“I’ve practiced a couple of times and I think I’m ready to make your spell.” She sounded excited, almost giddy, and I was excited, too, but I also couldn’t help picturing her arm covered with cuts and the sound of her screaming.
“I’ll be right there,” I said and started to run, then slowed so I wouldn’t trip in the middle of the road.
Echo described what she planned for my spell, the phases of the moon and the type of food, and how she was going to try to limit the side effects by giving me just enough grace.
“And the side effects?”
“It’s a physical spell, so it’ll have a mental side effect. Grace and control and power . . . you might be more emotional than usual, maybe? Hard to say, especially because it’s compound.”
I wanted to be excited about everything she was saying, but something nagged at me. Some part of the outline of Win that I couldn’t fill in. Finally I interrupted her.
“Tell me what kind of spell you were making for Win.”
She paused. “I don’t think he’d want me to.”
“Why? Was it a love spell?” If Win had spelled me into loving him, that would explain what I’d done—completely changed my goals and life for him.
“No. It had nothing to do with you.”
I tried not to be disappointed. “But he was going to give you five thousand dollars for it—that had to be something important. Expensive, so it was a permanent spell, right?” No response. “Did I know what it was, before I forgot him? Or was it a secret then?”
“You didn’t know.”
So Win had secrets. If Old Ari had known that, would she still have gone to so much trouble to forget him?
“Ari? You still there?”
“Why did it take you so long to blackmail me?” I asked.
There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “What do you mean?”
“Win died at the end of May. I got my spell a week later. But you didn’t come to find me until the bonfire on July third.”
My steps slowed as the pause got longer and longer. “I couldn’t really think about anything for the first couple of weeks.”
“After Win died?”
“Yeah. I . . . It wasn’t easy.”
“Why not?”
Her voice faded almost to a whisper. “The way I grew up . . . I never had a friend before. I’d never told anyone I was a hekamist. I wasn’t even supposed to answer the door when my mom wasn’t around.”
“But you opened for Win.”
“I started to get desperate. My mom was fading. I needed to make money that she wouldn’t hide or destroy—so I told him. I didn’t expect . . .” She breathed into the phone. “I didn’t know how it would feel to tell someone. To have someone know you. He knew me. With my mom so sick . . . he was the only one who did.”
I stopped walking. Something bitter churned in my stomach. She had stolen my grief, even if I’d given up all rights to it. “You know what, I can’t come over right now,” I said. “I have to meet my friends for dinner.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“But thank you. Thank you for making this spell.”
“It’s okay.”
“My friend’s been looking forward to this dinner, otherwise I’d ditch. I swear.”
“Don’t apologize. I’ll see you later.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said again anyway, even though the more I said it the less convincing it sounded. “I have to pick up Diana, we’re going to meet up with Kay at the restaurant. I’m probably already late, so—”
“Wait,” Echo interrupted. Her voice stopped wavering; she sounded like herself. “Your friend’s name is Kay?”
“Yeah. Kay Charpal.”
“Pretty Indian girl? Na?ve? A little needy?”
“Basically.” Echo didn’t respond. “Do you . . . know her?”
She sighed, a long whoosh of air into the phone. “Yeah, I know her. You’ve been hooked.”