“Where are you going?” Laurence was still naked.
“I have to go.” She put her shoes on. “Find Ernesto. Find the others. We can fix this. We can make them pay. We can save them.”
“I’ll go with you.” Laurence leapt for his pants.
“You can’t,” Patricia said. “I’m sorry, you can’t.”
And then she was gone, without saying goodbye or anything.
Laurence heard the front door slamming and Isobel trying to say something to Patricia as she ran past. And now he could hear the terrible chatter of the cable news people trying to make sense of the greatest natural disaster in America’s history. The storm’s supermassive fetch, hurling the already-swollen ocean onto land. High winds and twenty inches of rain shredding Capitol Hill and Foggy Bottom. The President in a secure location. Manhattan dead in the storm’s path, with all the bridges clogged with people who’d waited too long to evacuate after so many false alarms in the past.
Someone knocked on Laurence’s bedroom door. He leapt off the bed, hoping it was Patricia coming back for him. Instead, he opened the door to see Isobel. She didn’t seem to care that he was naked.
“Pack a bag,” Isobel said. “Just one.”
“What? Why?”
“This is it,” she said. “We’ve put this off as long as we could. I’ve moved Heaven and Earth to give you a normal life here. But this, what happened just now, means it’s over. We can’t wait any longer. We can’t afford to. Milton will say we waited too long as it is. We need the project up and running.”
“I promise you I haven’t been dragging my feet since that setback.” Laurence was freezing, in shock. “But still, we’re no closer than we were to figuring it out. There are huge theoretical problems.”
“I know,” Isobel said, handing Laurence an empty khaki duffel bag. “That’s the point. From this moment on, you’re working on the wormhole thing 24/7. We are going to need a new planet.”
Laurence tried to explain that he couldn’t leave, that there was no way, he had a life here, he’d finally found real love and it was everything to him, but he already knew this argument was lost. He took the duffel bag and started stuffing clothes and crap into it.
Patricia made it to Danger in record time, ignoring all the people on the bus who wanted to talk to her about the terrible-can-you-believe-it-this-is-going-to-change-everything. She jumped up the stairs three or four at a time and ran into the bookstore so fast she was breathless and yet still crying, but the moment she got there she knew it was too late. Everybody just sat there, looking horrified. And helpless. And like they’d been expecting her. Ernesto looked her in the eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “For your loss. For all of us.”
“Who did this?” Patricia said. “We need to find them. We need to turn them into ash and then blow them into space. We need to make them fucking pay. Tell me who did this.”
“Nobody,” Ernesto said. “Nobody and everybody. We all did this.”
“No, no.” Patricia started weeping harder and louder than ever. She was hyperventilating. She saw spots. “No, this was somebody, there’s a fucking bastard witch behind this, I can tell.”
“It’s a superstorm,” said Kawashima. “It’s been building for days, remember? It hit Cuba a few days ago, and then it converged with a cyclone. It ran into a high-pressure front in the North Atlantic that pushed it ashore.”
“There’s no spell big enough to move the ocean and the air currents,” said Taylor, coming up and touching Patricia’s arm. “You’d have to fool the Moon.”
“You could heal those storms. You could heal them until they got out of control, like weeds, someone did this with a healing spell. I know they did. It might have taken months, but they’ve had months. Someone did this.”
“Not this time.” Ernesto came and stood so close to Patricia, he was in danger of touching her and making her body a bacterial and fungal playground. He looked into her eyes, sad but not surprised. “I tried to warn you that bad times were coming, and we would be asking more of you. And now they are here. You will need to do terrible things. But we will be sharing the responsibility, it will not be on you alone. There will be no Aggrandizement if we face this together.”
“What do you mean?” Patricia was still shaking, but her breathing was slowing. She could smell the pure life energy coming off Ernesto, like nutrient-rich soil or a summer rainstorm.