Page 64 of A Shade Too Far
“It’s not the same thing at all,” he hissed.
The jingle ended with the reminder to kick plaque in the teeth.
“Round three!” Hiram once more banged his cane on the ground.
This round delved into Laurent’s nonexistent relationship with his father and the highlights of my worst parenting moments. British crime shows, my ass. The questions had only the most tangential relationship with the category.
My partner’s voice grew quieter and quieter with each answer, while I got perkier and perkier until I sounded like a squirrel who’d mainlined too much cocaine.
When we won that third round, I waved my hand like the teacher’s pet. “How did that woman cast the Pulsa diNura?”
“Pretty easy to make a letter appear,” Hiram said.
“That’s not what she asked,” Laurent said.
“The curse is an urban legend.” Ephraim’s disembodied voice brooked no argument.
“Then why say it could only be broken by compliance or murder?” I fired back.
“Because there would still be a hit on the target regardless of whether the curse exists,” he retorted. “How else would you get the curser to back down?”
“You’re wrong,” I said. “It exists. A man who received the letter was killed via a dybbuk attack. He was a powerful Ohrist, but his magic did nothing.”
“Ohrists can’t see dybbuks,” Ephraim said impatiently from wherever he was. “That’s why he couldn’t kill it.”
“There you go,” Hiram said, fidgeting with the question cards. “No curse.”
“But—” I said.
Ephraim made a raspberry noise.
I shook my fist, the domino falling to the seat beside me. “Listen, old man—”
Laurent tilted his head, all his focus on Hiram. “The latest curse victim was marked by a burn that looked like lashes of fire.”
“Smoke and mirrors,” Hiram replied.
“Is she Banim Shovavim?” Laurent said.
I blinked. “You said it wasn’t possible.”
“Not specifically.” Laurent didn’t even hedge his answer, though he wouldn’t look at me. “You drew that conclusion.”
“Like you let Naveen do about your magic?” I put my hands on my rib cage, breathing through my anger.
“Miriam was attacked by a dybbuk the other day,” Laurent said, ignoring me. “The fight lasted a long time and she doesn’t believe she killed it. She couldn’t sense it and when she’d seen this supposedly possessed host previously, there was nothing wrong with that woman’s shadow.”
“Dear God,” Hiram whispered, startling. His elbow jostled the mic and feedback screeched through the room.
Worse than that noise was the earthquake that rolled under the house of cards in my head. I mentally willed the structure to stay intact.
“So, it was your kind. All of it? The curse and that dybbuk?” Laurent’s voice was ice, turbulence swirling in his eyes.
A distant part of me noted he’d disassociated himself from the other half of his magic, but mostly I was in shock.
We’d have to kill a Banim Shovavim.
