Page 113 of Bent Out of Shade
A couple of minutes later, she ambled into my bedroom. “I know I’m brilliant, but why specifically?” She crawled onto my bed, avoiding the clothes I was flinging out of my closet.
“When Juliette first started working on Sabrina, there was no interference,” I said. “Her magic was stable, made up of dybbuk and vampire blocks. To use the game metaphor.”
“Who’s Sabrina?” Sadie seated herself cross-legged.
“A woman I was searching for. She was turned into a vampire against her will.”
“That’s awful.”
I nodded, hopping into a pair of wide-legged black pants. “Then my Banim Shovavim magic added another couple blocks to the tower. Just momentarily until I severed her shadow and killed the dybbuk.”
“That left only the vamp blocks with huge gaps in the structure,” Sadie said.
“Not only that.” I shrugged into a sweater. “We assumed we were dealing with three kinds of magic inside Sabrina. There were four. She had a recessive Ohrist gene that allowed her to get enthralled while she was still human. That’s the interference.”
“Why didn’t Juliette sense it?”
“Because it’s recessive. A discoloration on a building block, not a separate one. Juliette has the basics of vamp magic, but vamps don’t use healers, they depend on their own recuperation abilities. Juliette would have no way of detecting something this slight when it wouldn’t feel like regular Ohrist magic, just part of the vamp landscape.” I twisted my hair back and secured it with a clip. “I need to speak to her.”
“You do that. I’m going to go back to perspectives on nationalism.”
“Good luck.” I pulled on some socks.
“You too. And Mom?” I glanced up. “If my magic won’t null vampires,” Sadie said, “remember, there’s always Phoebe.”
“You can’t carry a flamethrower with you everywhere. Even a mini one.”
She grinned. “Tell yourself that.”
Ten minutes later, I’d thrown on makeup, scarfed down a piece of toast, and was out the door, sorting through a flurry of texts. There was nothing from Zev, though a call came in from my old law firm.
“Hello?”
“Miri?” Mara sounded uncharacteristically subdued.
“Are you okay?”
“Sabrina Mayhew is dead.”
I stumbled off the curb, crashing my hip into the front of my car. “Say what? How?”
“Heart attack. She was found in her car.” The older woman sniffed. “Can you imagine? She’d been there since Friday night. How could the universe be so cruel?”
“That’s horrible.” I unlocked my door and got in the sedan. “They’re sure it was her?”
“Yes, her friend said the police confirmed identification before releasing the body to the funeral home. Apparently, Sabrina wanted to be cremated.”
No one would ever learn the truth. Ryann, you sly devil. I mentally saluted her, though her dad must have helped pull this off. “Is there going to be a memorial?”
“That’s why I called. The funeral itself is private, but there’s a public service for her next week.”
She gave me the time and the place, and I assured her I’d be there. If Sabrina attended her own memorial, would that give her closure?
I called Jude on speakerphone while I drove.
“Hey, toots. Deadman’s Island has cell service?”
“Emmett! I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
