“He’s not listening!” Verlaine whispered. “Magic. It’s built on magic?”

“I think so,” Nadia continued. “That’s what Elizabeth’s doing. She’s ripping out that old magic. Pulling the town out from under us.”

“With the sinkholes,” Mateo said, trying to make sure he had this straight.

“Yes, but it’s more than that. The way this town is sick on the inside—and all the curses she’s laid, whatever the hell that is buried beneath the chemistry lab—there’s magic everywhere here, do you understand?”

“We do now,” Verlaine said, “but where are you going with this?”

Looking straight at Mateo, Nadia continued, “You said the magic was a part of us. That it wasn’t meant to be taken away. That’s true for this whole town. See? Captive’s Sound has been cursed and enchanted for so long that it’s—it’s literally lying on a foundation of magic. Elizabeth’s stripping away her own spells. She’s removing the framework.”

He could kind of see that. “Why?”

“The One Beneath must want it. I don’t know what for. They say sometimes he demands death for its own sake.” Nadia said that so quietly, so matter-of-factly, that it sent a chill along Mateo’s spine. Next to him, Verlaine shuddered. “But now I know some of the spells she must be using. That means—that means I have an idea what to do to stop her.”

“This sounds dangerous,” Verlaine said.

“It is.” Nadia nodded slowly. “But it’s worth a try.”

Mateo felt the urge to tell her not to do it—whatever it was—to get between her and Elizabeth if he could. But he knew he couldn’t. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try to turn the spell back on her,” Nadia said, her dark eyes lighting up. “Unmagic her, at least a little bit. We’re going to fight fire with fire.”

18

“A STEADFAST,” ELIZABETH MURMURED.

She stood on the shore, on a patch of beach so rocky that no houses had been built very near. Her legs were thigh-deep in the water; the sharp fragments of shells underneath her bare feet cut into her flesh. Droplets of her blood would be mingling with the seawater even now. The One Beneath could claim the entire sound as her blood soon.

He needs so little to claim us, Asa said. Does that never seem unjust to you?

“Silence, beast.”

The more she thought about the identity of Nadia Caldani’s Steadfast, the less certain she was. Verlaine Laughton was the obvious choice, the only girl she had seen regularly in Nadia’s company. Yet she was so new to Nadia’s life—such an unusual person to reach out to.

They might have known each other before, Asa chimed in. Did you ever consider that? People talk via computers now. The witch and Verlaine could have been friends online.

Elizabeth had never used a computer in her life and did not intend to begin at this late date. As cold sea spray stung her face, she considered the possibility of some past acquaintance between Nadia and Verlaine. It seemed unlikely. They had not greeted each other that first day at school, and their attitude toward each other during the few days Elizabeth had observed them early in the semester—it was more wary than warm. No, they had been strangers before.

Yet what kind of a Steadfast could Verlaine Laughton be? Bereft as she was, could she even hold the power? Elizabeth supposed it was possible—this was something she’d never tested—though she found it surprising.

Must be fun for you. You get so few surprises these days.

Although Elizabeth did not appreciate the demon’s attempts at levity, there was truth to what he said. This world felt so old to her—so peculiar and yet so predictable. People wore shapeless, flimsy clothing now, and the women were brazen, and everyone talked to little machines they held in their hands, but they were as venal and selfish as they had ever been. Their hopes were just as craven, their perspective as small. She’d abandoned any attempt to take part in their ordinary affairs many decades ago, beyond her token school attendance to look after the Chamber. Being with ordinary mortals increasingly felt to her like watching small, squabbling children fighting over broken toys.

Even the Craft could no longer fascinate her; she had mastered it so long ago. This one tiny unanswered question about a Steadfast was the first flicker of uncertainty she had felt in many years, and briefly it entertained her. It was like seeing a butterfly in the desert.

But Verlaine remained the most likely candidate. Perhaps there were others to investigate—that school counselor, for one, Ms. Walsh; she seemed to take an interest in Nadia—but Verlaine Laughton was the correct place to begin.

Satisfied, Elizabeth dipped her hands into the ocean and drank. Even a mouthful of seawater could cause vomiting and hallucinations in most people. She was past all that now. It could not even make her thirstier than she already was, always was. All she needed to do was to see if she could start to taste the blood.

“You should’ve had your friends stay for dinner,” Dad said as he went into the kitchen. “We could have celebrated.”

“If you’d called ahead to tell me you won, maybe I would’ve asked them.” Nadia wasn’t being entirely honest about that, she knew. Today had been intense for all of them; she figured Mateo and Verlaine probably needed to decompress tonight as much as she did. Her nerves remained on edge. But still—she could imagine a day when they would all hang out at her place, and her father would maybe be in “kind of cool Dad” mode instead of “annoying oversensitive Dad” mode. It could be … sort of fun. She could see them here. Especially Mateo. Her lips curled into a soft smile as she remembered how friendly and gentle he’d been with Cole, down there on the floor like playing with LEGOs was still his favorite thing to do.