Laurence still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to Priya. He had no real data. She’d floated, the way Ben and the various objects had. Her sandals had fallen as her feet lifted off, and her bright toenails had wriggled. She’d laughed and clapped her hands and said, “Suck on this, Newton!” Everybody was high-fiving and making upskirting jokes … and then she’d just gone “pop.” It was sort of a balloon-popping, squelching sound, as if something sucked her into an invisible hole. All that remained were her sandals, one of which was upside down. Laurence had felt a compulsion to pick them up and place them neatly beside each other next to the beanbag, as if she’d come back for them in a moment.
Patricia turned and gestured to Laurence that she needed some space here. He grabbed Sougata’s arm and dragged him toward the exit, beckoning for Anya and Tanaa to follow. “We need to get her some supplies,” Laurence said. “Patricia needs boiling water, dry ice, regular ice, half a dozen jailbroken Caddies, and a few other things. Come on, people, let’s haul ass.” He hustled them out of there.
“If this doesn’t work—” said Sougata.
“If you’re just wasting our time while Priya is in danger—” said Anya.
“We will end you,” Tanaa concluded.
Laurence looked back at the steel door, which he’d slammed shut behind them, and inhaled loudly through his teeth. He felt as if he, too, were about to be sucked into a completely unknowable other space.
“Let’s hurry up and get those supplies,” he said. He kept adding more and more items to the list, some of which they’d need to purchase at the grocery store or borrow from people in the hackerspace, a few blocks away.
“Damn damn damn,” Sougata kept saying under his breath. “Damn, it’s all over, I’m so sorry Priya.” Anya put her hand on Sougata’s shoulder.
Laurence was putting a lot of energy into pretending that the scavenger hunt he was sending his friends on was vital and time sensitive. And then he looked down at his phone and saw a text from Patricia: “come back pls. alone.” He gestured for the others to go out for supplies, then turned and sprinted back upstairs.
The loft looked darker than usual, as if all the light were being eaten by something. The movie posters resembled ghost portraits in a haunted mansion. Laurence stepped in a beanbag and almost face-planted. He crept past machines that he worked with every day, which suddenly looked sinister with their sharp edges, metallic protrusions, and sputtering LEDs. There was a rank beautiful scent, akin to burning lavender.
Patricia glowed at the other end of the long, thin space, with the same pale light as the white circle where Priya had vanished. The only point of brightness in the entire space.
“How’s it going?” Laurence stage-whispered, as though they were in a crypt.
“It’s going okay,” Patricia said in a normal voice. “Priya is safe for now. She is going to need a lot of vodka and loud music when she gets out of where she is. She drinks, right? She’s not straight edge?”
“She drinks,” Laurence said. That Priya’s taste in intoxicants was an issue reassured him a lot. But he was waiting for the bad news. Patricia just stared at him as if she was trying to decide something. She was several inches shorter than him, but in this moment she seemed taller. Her deep-set eyes narrowed as she sized him up.
“So,” Laurence said after a moment of this. “What can I do?”
“Remember what I told you not to say to me?” Patricia said. “When you brought me up here.”
Laurence had another “standing on the edge of the abyss” feeling. Total heedless terror. He shrugged, and it passed. “Sure,” he said. “I remember.”
“I need you to owe me something,” Patricia said, “or this won’t work. I’m really sorry. I tried to do it every other way, and none of them succeeded. In the end, the most powerful magic is often transactional in some way. I’ll explain more some other time.”
“Okay, sure,” Laurence said. “Whatever you want. Name it.”
“If I bring your friend back,” Patricia said. She chewed her lip and seemed to be trying one last time to think of an alternative. “If I bring your friend back, you have to give me the smallest thing you own.”
“That’s it?” Laurence laughed with relief. “Done.” He grabbed her hand with both hands and shook.
Laurence couldn’t stop laughing, because he’d gotten himself all worked up and it turned out to be nothing. He owned so many tiny items—the smallest thing he owned was probably some ridiculous gadget he’d paid too much for. He laughed until he croaked, and his eyes clouded, and when he wiped his eyes clear, Patricia and he were no longer alone.
Priya stood on the white platform for a moment, gaping at the two faces below. She raised her elegant hands to her face, as if astonished to see that she still had hands. She tried to form words and just made a fish mouth instead. She started to wobble off the platform, and Laurence guided her to sit down.
“She’s seen some things that eyes weren’t built for,” Patricia said. “Like I said. Vodka, and lots of it. And loud music. I recommend Benders. I’ll even come and have a drink or two.”
Laurence steered Priya onto a beanbag, where she was hugging herself and making low guttural sounds. He texted the others to come back up, then turned back to Patricia.
“Oh my god, thank you,” Laurence said. “Am I allowed to say thank you? Or is that bad?”