“You’re really good at running into danger,” she said. She stretched, looked to the line of starlight still jagged across the clouds. The wind, though still gentled by the elders’ hold, had picked up again. “But you’re not much for the really crazy gambles that can make the danger interesting.”
I thought that danger was too often dull, and crazy gambles rarely considered just how much there was to lose. But that wasn’t the world Audrey had managed to make for herself, during her nineteen years alive and free. Daring, I said, “I’m not mad enough, you mean.”
She nodded. “The archpriest said running away doesn’t suit my nature. He’s right. If I’m going to die, I’d rather see what my ancestor gave me. The stuff in my blood—it’s the only thing we’ve seen that can fight the cold. Maybe there’s something we can do to make it stronger, or share it, or control it better.” Her audacity flagged a moment. “Just promise that if it does take me over, you won’t stop them from doing what they have to. Or argue with them, or hold it against them.”
I took her hand and bowed over it, touching her knuckles to my forehead as if she were the archpriest. “I promise.”
We made a place for ourselves close to the fire, glaring away those who tried to hover. In the midst of the Tide, there was no need to nest ritual within ritual: concentration was all we needed to bring the confluence into focus.
Audrey’s blood had become a coruscating miasma of cold light and consuming darkness. Even the little that my mind still interpreted as water, it saw roiled with mud.
A shadow fell over me, and Chulzh’th settled alongside us. “That was brave. And right.”
“Thank you,” I said. Then: “We’re working.”
“I know. I thought you might want help from someone who’s studied this for longer than a year.”
“Aphra’s been studying for a year and a half,” said Caleb. We made room.
It didn’t work. Audrey’s defenses responded to none of the spells Chulzh’th knew for controlling the body: they were not wounds to be healed or illnesses to be fought back, nor the common guardians of human blood. They acted as part of her when treated as invaders, and as some strange other thing when treated as her own. We couldn’t draw them out to defend Sally, and we couldn’t limit their reach within the body they claimed.
The cold spread, likewise unresponsive. My hands felt made of ice. I tried not to let it show.
Two hours and fifty-two minutes later by Audrey’s watch, a shouted “Hallo!” echoed over the dunes. The guards came to attention, raising spears and tridents.
“It’s Mary!” I cried. Irrational relief blotted out pain, and I ran toward her voice, calling to assure her that we were here.
At the dune’s peak I slowed to see what awaited us. Mary stood beside a dark car, directing someone who leaned over the back seat. As he straightened, I could see that it was Jesse, bearing Sally’s limp weight in his arms. The rest of their team was nowhere in sight.
Audrey appeared beside me, clapped a hand over her mouth, and ran down toward them. Two of the guards and Chulzh’th also crested the dune.
“No threat,” I told them, hoping it was true. I hurried down with the elders at my heels.
“This is your doing,” said Jesse as I arrived. Then he caught sight of the elders and jerked back, almost dropping Sally.
I darted forward and caught her side, her weight briefly on my wrists before he regained his balance. At the touch of my skin against hers I felt a warming, and she moaned softly. Startled, I touched her again, felt her senses flare against the cold. I scooped her from his arms, and she lolled against me.
“I know,” I told him.
“No, the blame is mine,” said Mary. I turned to look at her and she met my gaze. “Before she went unconscious, she told me to take her here. I thought I could fix this. I was wrong. I’m sorry. You said that your people would know what to do.”
I bowed my head. “I was wrong too. They know a treatment, but they can’t use it on men of the air.”
She closed her eyes, but only for a moment. “I’ll speak with them—perhaps together we can come up with something.” A humorless smile played on her face. “And if you really are working with Russia—or with demons—helping us would allay suspicion.”
I let it pass; there was too much else going on and I couldn’t find the energy to argue. “You came. The others…?”
“Will forgive me in the morning, I hope.” She nodded at Jesse. “Mr. Sadler, thank you for guiding us here. If you want to go back to Miskatonic or wait in the car, you’re more than welcome.”
Recalling his smug explanation of why their ritual had caught me, I couldn’t help glaring in spite of my remorse. I wasn’t being entirely fair, and realized it even as I spoke. “Or you could come back to the beach with us, and tell my grandfather how after I rebuffed your advances, you decided that uncontrolled summoning spells would make a fine revenge.”
“That had nothing to do with it—I was trying to protect Audrey.”
“You didn’t,” said Audrey. “Go home and go to sleep.”
He looked at the elders again.
“I’ll come,” he said. “I’ll help how I can. But please don’t tell your grandfather. I said I was sorry.”
“I know,” I said.
I started up the dune, and discovered immediately that pushing someone away in anger was one thing, but carrying a girl nearly my own weight up a shifting slope was beyond my strength. Chulzh’th took Sally, lifting her easily as she climbed. Mary and Audrey followed, and Jesse scrambled after us.
I led them back to the fire. “Archpriest Ngalthr,” I said, formally. “Allow me to introduce Mary … I’m afraid we’ve never met properly; I don’t know your family name.”
“Of course you don’t.” She held out her hand and the archpriest took it, claws closing around her like a father holding the hand of a small child. “Mary Harris, FBI. I understand you have a method of curing Miss Ward that’s impractical in its current form.”
“She would die. Both because she is a woman of the air, and because she is untrained.” Chulzh’th came close, and Ngalthr pressed the back of his hand to Sally’s brow. She whimpered quietly. “And because she is already gravely weakened. Thrice dead, and in pain more terrible than she suffers now. This is your doing.”
“I know. I’m trying to fix it. Please tell me about the treatment.”
Grandfather stalked over to join us, and I moved automatically to stand between him and Sally. “So you can attempt it yourself?” he growled. “The results would be far worse in untrained hands.”
She looked at him coolly, but a hint of anger leaked into her voice. “So that I can try and determine whether there’s some less harmful principle that can be abstracted out. As I’m currently unable to so much as write out an equation, I will be dependent on you to implement any treatment I can suggest. I hope you’ll judge it on some basis other than whether it’s been tried before. Please tell me what you would have done, if you thought she could survive it.”
“We don’t discuss these things with outsiders,” said Grandfather.
“Please,” said Mary. “I’m trying to save a child’s life.”