She’s glowing with anticipation while I’m trying to wrap my head around any assortment of curses as “nice” and whether I want to go anywhere near a part of the city that boasts curses in such abundance.
Saul locks the shop door and we’re on our way. He takes the lead, each of his long strides forcing Millie and me into double time to keep pace with him.
“Cursecasters are a suspicious lot by nature,” Millie says as we hurry down the street. “They move through the world always looking over their shoulders. They harbor a particular dislike for our lot, viewing us as pestering gnats best swatted or squashed.”
“Can they do that?” I ask. “Squash us?”
“Not with curses,” Millie says as we turn the corner. “Spellseekers have a natural immunity. Curses can’t get a proper hold of us. Of course, you have to build up your immunity—just like all humans do for the more mundane forms of disease. In time the curses will just slide off.”
“We’ve got genetic Teflon for curses?” I laugh.
She wrinkles her nose at me.
“Sorry,” I say as we descend the stairs to the subway. “So how are we in danger from them?”
“After I put one cursecaster out of business, she came after me,” Millie says. “My poor Saul bears far too many scars on my behalf.”
I gasp and Saul throws a thin smile back at me. “Don’t worry, little girl. I have a knack for making sure cursecasters’ knives end up buried in their own bellies.”
Millie’s laugh surprises me. “No one is as quick as my Saul.”
Saul grins at her.
“He’s your bodyguard?” I ask. “Is that how it works?”
Millie nods. “Cursecasters rarely have qualms about keeping their work safe and their identities secret. We’re the only ones who can expose them or threaten their livelihood.”
We’re moving through the turnstile when Saul adds, “It’s more than that.”
“In my case it’s not,” Millie says stiffly. “Because I don’t have the talent that you do, Elizabeth.”
Saul bristles, assuming a watchful stance on the platform while Millie takes my elbow, pulling me close so she can speak in low tones.
“I can identify curses and help victims understand what’s happening to them,” she says. “I can offer advice. Usually it’s a matter of estimating how long it will take the curse to run its course and how not to exacerbate its effects.”
I’m trying to concentrate on her words but finding it difficult. Laurie was right about the smell of the subway. The stifling heat makes the odors, both sour and cloying, pool around us. But it’s not just the belly-churning reek of sweat, urine, and refuse. There’s a low drone surrounding me, one I can sense but still just barely hear. The noise swells and a wave of dizziness makes me sway. Millie’s fingers tighten around my arm.
“Shhh,” she says. “I know it isn’t pleasant, but try to breathe deeply and steadily. Don’t let it overwhelm you.”
A train pulls up. Saul stands in front of us as it empties and then shoulders other riders aside. Other than a few muttered complaints, none of the other passengers object as he makes a path for Millie and me to enter the car and shepherds us into seats. I don’t blame them, as I’d guess few people outside of professional wrestlers would mess with Saul.
I feel a little better now that I’m sitting down. The buzzing still fills my ears, but it’s less intense.
“You’ll get used to it.” Millie pats my hand.
“I don’t think it’s the smell,” I say.
She laughs. “Of course it’s not the smell. It’s the curses. You’re starting to tune in to them. Soon you’ll be able to pick them out without even making an effort.”
I look up sharply. The skin around her eyes is crinkled with her sympathetic smile. “You’ve opened the gate. Now it’s a matter of walking through.”
“That buzzing . . . the sounds,” I say. “It’s from curses?”
“From magic in general.” Millie nods. “Some curses, some more benign spells. Your body is naturally inclined to seek them out. The sound is pestering you, trying to get your attention. You’ll find it’s much less intrusive if you don’t fight it.”
“But . . .” I frown, shaking my head to clear away the drone without success. “I can’t see the curses unless I’m in the background.” I wince a little at my made-up word for the strange alternaworld where I can clearly see the shape and hear the sound of curses. Millie doesn’t miss a beat. She’s still smiling.
“From what I’ve managed to dig up from the older volumes, to break a curse, you’ll need to be in that ‘background,’ as you call it,” she says. “But given time and practice, you won’t need to leave this plane to identify the magic.”
The car begins to move. Saul is standing at one of the poles like a sentinel, eye moving up and down the car.
“The work of shields like Saul is to keep you safe while you’re drawing a curse,” Millie says. “You’re utterly defenseless when you leave this plane to step into the magical one. A shield watches over you, guards against attack.”
My skin prickles. Laurie had done that very job when I was experimenting—trying to see the curses. He’d been my shield without either of us knowing it. A surge of gratitude washes over me, following by a hollowing out. I’m suddenly lonely, wishing my brother was with me instead of these two strangers.
“And Saul was assigned to you?” I ask, forcing my attention back to the moment.
“He found me.” Millie glances at Saul, and for a few seconds the years melt from her face, revealing a wide-eyed girl hidden beneath layers of age. “The days when shields received official commissions to guard spellseekers are long past. But Saul is from a long line of shields, and he was determined to answer his calling.”
I risk a glance at the hulking man, whose eye is on me briefly and then back to scanning the subway car. “Will I need my own shield?” I’m wondering if I could just bribe Laurie with cases of Pop-Tarts to take the job, but on the other hand, I don’t exactly want my brother getting into knife fights.
“For certain,” she says. “Saul might be able to find someone. He still connects with what is left of the network for his kind. But the simplest solution would be for Saul to serve as your shield. My usefulness in the magical world is limited. Your talent is far more valuable.”