How fitting that Maxwell Arbus should be my first person who isn’t there.
“I know you’re here,” he says. “I can feel you. That is part of it, you see. A person who paints a picture does not experience it in the same way as a stranger—there is an element of experience in every encounter, and that experience manifests itself not in sight but in feeling. So it is with what I do. I know you are there because I created you.”
He is standing in front of the door. He wants me to know precisely where he is. Blocking my escape.
I don’t say a word.
“There’s no need to be afraid of me. What’s past is past. Since you have been keeping the company of spellseekers, I imagine you have some idea of what’s happened. Perhaps your mother told you. Or your father.”
He is waiting for something from me. I will not give it to him.
He tries to sound patient, but he’s not good at masking his displeasure. “I’m old, Stephen. I’m tired. I can only imagine what your mother told you, but believe me, there were two sides to that story. She wasn’t a strong woman, your mother. She didn’t want the power I could give her. But you, Stephen—you’re strong.”
This time, he pretends I’ve responded.
“How do I know you’re strong? Because I know your curse. I know what it must have taken to live with it. You have to be strong. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be alive.”
“What do you want?” I ask quietly.
“There you go. It’s good that we’re talking. I don’t want anything for myself, Stephen. Not really. What I want is for you to accept your birthright. As my time grows short, I want to give what’s left to you. It’s a powerful legacy—you must realize that. And I have no one else to give it to. No one deserves it more than you.”
I fall silent again. He sounds reasonable, not malevolent. But he’s still the wolf at the door.
“It’s easy to remove the curse,” he says. “Once you agree to it, I can do it in a matter of minutes. You will be visible to everyone. Think about it. What a life you’d have.”
There’s a hitch. There has to be a hitch.
“Say the word, Stephen. Tell me you don’t want to be invisible any longer.”
I don’t trust you. Millie’s words are there. Even as my hopes want to take charge, want to make a deal with him, I know I don’t trust him. He’s not offering this out of the goodness of his heart, because there is no goodness in his heart.
He laughs mirthlessly. “I should have known—you’re just like your mother.”
This is not meant as a compliment.
I want to yell at him. I want to tell him that he doesn’t even know the meaning of strength if he thinks my mother was weak. He can’t possibly imagine the hell he put her through, and what it took to navigate that. Especially with me. Especially with her invisible son, who she cared for every single day of her life. And, yes, ultimately it defeated her. Ultimately her body gave way. But she lasted long enough for me to become a person. She lasted long enough to know I’d survive.
I don’t tell him any of this, though. I don’t yell. I don’t attack. Because I don’t want him to think I’m his enemy . . . even though I am.
“Do you really mean it when you say I could be a cursecaster too?” I ask in a breathless whisper, as if he’s Santa granting my biggest, best wish.
“Of course,” he intones. “You’re an Arbus, after all.”
“You’d teach me?”
I am guessing he nods, then realizes I can’t see it. There’s a pause, followed by him saying, “Yes. I would.”
Right now, I could undo it. All I need is to tell him I want it, and he can end what I thought was a life sentence.
But if I do that, he could put a new, different curse on me. And the energy from my old curse returning to him could make him even more powerful than before.
I can’t risk it. But I also can’t risk him knowing I’m on to him.
“I need time,” I say. “Not that much time, but a little. Because it will change everything. And I want to prepare for that.”
“This isn’t something you need to think about,” he says, angry. “I am offering you what I imagine you’ve wanted your entire life. I may never offer it again. I’d advise you to accept.”
I match his angry tone. “I didn’t get this far by making snap judgments. You say you want me to join the family business? Well, do you want a worker who’s impulsive, or do you want one who sees every angle? If you’re looking for someone stupid, there are millions of other people in this city you can choose.”
This time, he’s the one who’s silent. I’ve pushed it too far, I think.
Finally, he says, “I will give you twenty-four hours. And that, you’ll find, is very generous of me. You’ve seen what I can do to people. Don’t make the wrong decision, or a lot of people will pay for it.”
The door opens and closes. I assume he’s left. But for all I know, he’s still here. Watching. Haunting. Knowing.
He hasn’t told me how he’ll find me twenty-four hours from now.
But I don’t imagine that’s going to be a problem.
Not for him.
Chapter 26
I’M SO ACCUSTOMED TO Millie’s gentle shuffling back and forth within the confines of the hexatorium that I’m stunned by how quickly she moves now. With her silver hair flashing as it catches the afternoon sunlight, she flows into the swift current of Manhattan’s streets without pause and I’m rushing to catch her.
Laurie’s noticed too. “What the hell does she put in her tea?” he huffs, running beside me as we find ourselves working to keep pace with Millie.
“One lump of sugar and some milk,” I say with a groan when I lose sight of Millie in the crowd heading towards the Museum of Natural History. “Maybe she speed walks at malls with the other seniors.”
“News flash, Josie,” Laurie returns. “We’re in Manhattan now. Mall-free zone. Malls are of our Minnesotan past.”
I grab his hand, tugging him forward as I catch sight of Millie’s carefully pinned hairstyle bobbing in the sea of tourists.
Laurie squeezes my fingers tight. “Is she trying to lose us?” He sounds a little hurt and a lot afraid.
I understand. That’s how I’m feeling too.