Martine jumped up from the arm of the sofa. He had filed his fingernails to sharp points, and his forearm scratching had drawn blood. He walked toward Blackwood, stopping a few feet away.

“Mpangui,” he said. He looked at Blackwood, and also all around him, as though Blackwood were radiating energy. “Cleanse me. You can eat this curse. Limpieza. Limpieza.”

Blackwood shook his head. “No, Martine.”

“I see you,” Martine said, emotion rising. “Free me, mpangui. Rid me of this curse.”

Blackwood shook his head sadly. He said, “Martine, I am afraid there is nothing I or anyone else can do for you.”

Back outside in the driveway, Odessa could hear Yoan Martine inside, still talking, his voice occasionally rising to a yell. “What did he want?”

“Limpieza. A cleansing to remove malefic influences.”

“Could you do such a thing?” she asked.

“Such a thing is possible,” he said. “But not for Martine. Including mercury in the spellcasting is a wish for madness in one’s enemy. I can’t help but think it backfired on them. She was using Palo as an aggressive magic.”

Odessa said, “It fried his brain.”

“I could no more cleanse an insane person of their psychological mania. He is mad. He is lost.”

Odessa kept one eye on the double doors, expecting him to come out after them. “As are we,” she said. “Lost. Shouldn’t we have checked the house?”

“No one else is there,” said Blackwood, with a finality she did not question.

Something smashed inside the house. Odessa wanted to get going. She started toward the high gate.

“Sounds like she crossed a line in one of those rituals,” said Odessa. “Like your John Dee.”

Blackwood said, “Everything is linked. There are no little things, no random coincidences.”

“But why Peters in Montclair? And Colina on Long Island?”

Blackwood said, “The design of the world is complex, and the Hollow Ones are its thirteenth floor.”

“So no leads. Without Juanita, we are at a dead end.”

“No such thing,” said Blackwood. “The world will give us a sign. We only have to be ready to see it.”

Odessa shut the gate behind them. The Rolls-Royce Phantom rolled to the curb, Mr. Lusk at the wheel. They climbed into the back. Odessa felt better when the door was closed and she was farther away from Martine’s corrosive psychic energy.

“While we wait for the world to give us a sign,” said Odessa, “I need to eat something.”

“As you wish,” said Blackwood, distracted.

“Where to?” asked Mr. Lusk.

“We’ll find something on the way to Flushing, Queens.”

Mr. Lusk looked at Blackwood, waiting for the order.

Blackwood said, “On the other side of Manhattan? Why? What for?”

“For Earl Solomon,” she said. To Mr. Lusk, she said, “NewYork-Presbyterian Queens Hospital.”

“No, no,” said Blackwood.

“Why not?” said Odessa. “We have time. Solomon asked to see you.”