Page 87 of A Shade of Myself
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The last thingI wanted to do was go from that encounter to finding Poe. The frying pan to the fire? Even if it was climbing out of the fire back into the nice toasty pan, I wasn’t up to it. My quota on head trips was full.
I took Tuesday off to catch up on totally boring and banal things like grocery shopping and laundry.
Laurent texted me about going on a run, which would have gotten the anxiety out of my system, but that required too much energy, so I promised I’d go tomorrow.
Jude showed up in the late afternoon while I was mopping. Flushed, I wiped a strand of hair out of my eyes with my arm. “Come in, but careful. The floor is wet.” I eyed her clothes and hands, which were free of any clay residue. A rare occasion for her. “Why so fancy today, lady?” I teased.
She slipped off her shoes. “Got a minute to talk?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Sure, while I finish mopping the kitchen.”
We were years beyond guest status at each other’s homes. Jude helped herself to a cold drink and then took a seat while I dumped the dirty water from the bucket into the sink.
Were we finally going to discuss how she felt about my magic? For all my griping, was I ready to hear what she had to say?
“I got some answers about what happened with Emmett,” she said somberly.
Oh. I rinsed the bucket a few times before refilling it with hot water and bleach. It couldn’t be great given her serious mood, but I kept my voice light, hoping for the best. “What’d you learn?”
“Before I took on Zev’s commission to make Emmett, I consulted another Ohrist who I tracked down living in Rome.” Jude turned her glass slowly in her hands. “He’d made a few golems in his time, but after going through radiation and chemo, his magic had become unreliable, so he retired. At the time, I was only interested in the process, but I reached out to him now.”
Water sloshed over the edge of the bucket when I set it on the floor. “Is Emmett in danger from this magic?”
“Possibly. In the same way that Ohrists draw upon ohr to fuel their magic, Banim Shovavim necromancers draw upon the dead.”
I paused, the mop half-wrung out. “So, you mean Emmett could be consumed by spirits?”
“No.” She fanned a hand in front of her face. For all the chemicals she dealt with in her pottery, she couldn’t stand the smell of bleach. “Let me finish. These necromancers don’t consult individual ghosts who see the future. They tap into the spirits’ collective stream.”
She looked up at the ceiling, gathering her thoughts, while I swept the mop over the floor with a swishing noise, mentally urging her to drop the bomb already.
“Think of these divinations like a river that Emmett steps into,” Jude said. “Necromancers can withstand the current, but Emmett wasn’t born with that magic. It was infused into him.” Her lips twisted wryly when she said that, and I gave her a sympathetic smile, but it was automatic because my body felt tight with anger. She should have checked the repercussions before she set that magic in him. “Most of the time he can withstand the current,” she said, “but if it’s too strong he runs the risk of being swept away.”
“What would happen to him?”
“He’d remain his divination self forever, half here and half not.” Her voice was heavy with sorrow.
I practically stabbed the baseboard with the mop. There was no way of telling what type of prophecy would carry him away for good. While divination was a useful tool, it wasn’t worth the risk. Said the woman who’d used him multiple times for her own gain. And wasn’t that a bitter pill to swallow? I’d accidentally been dragging my friend closer to death. I gentled my motions, doing my best to remain even-keeled while we sorted this problem.
“I’m happy to never ask Emmett for a divination again,” I said, “but he does it randomly too. How do we stop that?”
“We can’t. It’s part of how he was created.” Jude finished her drink, then clutched the glass tightly, her eyes on her lap.
The water turned cloudy when I dunked the mop in the bucket and I wrung it out with more force than necessary. “Too bad you didn’t ask the Banim Shovavim necromancer before he died.”
Jude looked up sharply, her eyes flashing. “There it is.”
“There what is?”
“You’ve been dancing around me ever since you saved me from the dybbuk,” she snapped. “You blame me for all of it, don’t you?”
“Me?” I slapped the mop against the floor. “You’re the one who flinches if you see my shadow. Hell, half the time you do it if I get too close to you. You feel all torn up about Emmett, but you’re treating me like a monster.”
“You think I don’t know that?” She raked her hands through her curls. “I should feel grateful but—”
“I don’t want your gratitude,” I said stiffly. “I just want you to be normal with me.”
