“My, my, how very curious,” she said, more to herself than us. “The both of you! I would not have thought it done, and yet . . .”

The frost cleared, and she focused on us again, a smug little smile playing on her lips. “You don’t need my help after all, Natalia,” she said. “You’ve already got the way of it, you clever child. Simply forge onward together, just as you have begun.”

She clasped her hands in front of her, fingers intertwined, giving us a meaningful nod above them, her eyes bright with a wicked mischief that looked just like Talia’s.

“Farewell for now, my beastly girl,” she said, breaking into a smile that was suddenly crowded with too many sharp teeth. “And do be sure to bring those Blackmoore bastards merry hell.”

23

Like Starlit Oceans, or Alien Skies

Talia and I sat on the window seat with the window flung wide open between us, still buzzed from the intense flood of endorphins the necromantic magic had left behind when it receded. And the taste of the medovukha had grown on me, as we passed Margarita’s samovar back and forth between us like a flask, taking little sips of liquid lightning.

Having now met Margarita in the spectral flesh, I felt reasonably sure she would approve of this repurposing.

“Well, this is . . . strange,” I said to Talia, lolling my head back and forth against the wall as the world lurched around me, leaving a shimmering wash of psychedelic tracers in its wake. “Strange, but also nice?”

“Just let it happen,” Talia advised, smiling lazily up at the ceiling. “It’ll be like this for a little while before it fades. If you don’t fight it, there’ll be less of a crash at the end.”

I took a deep breath, letting myself sink deeper into the swimmy sensation. “Duly noted.”

“So what did you think of her? Her Fearsomeness, that is. The Dread Laaaaady.”

I snorted a laugh. “She was actually surprisingly charming. I mean, also horrifying, obviously. But in a very compelling way.”

“You should have told her you thought so. She’d have loved hearing that.”

“Yeah, pass,” I said, shuddering at the thought. “She also felt like she could think me out of existence if I rubbed her the wrong way.”

“Except she’s apparently all about you Harlows,” Talia pointed out. “Which, no offense, came a bit out of left field.”

“None taken.” I looked out of the window, where the ripening moon hung above the Witch Woods, so fat and close it seemed like a magician’s trick, like you could pluck it like a dime from the sky with a simple sleight of hand. “No idea what that was about, either. It’s not like Avramovs and Harlows have some storied history of friendship or anything.”

“And what did you make of the last part?” Talia laced her hands together with exaggerated import. “That whole wink-wink nudge-nudge together business. She was practically playing charades with us by the end.”