“Curtain,” whispered the Trickster, and he let a fabric-like ripple erase the scene before them. “Good, Miranda—very good for a beginner—but that wasn’t the last time they spoke. That was the context, if you will. Are you ready for the final act?”

Miranda coughed and cleared her throat. She had dried her face, and though her expression was still focused, it was peaceful. She had started to come to terms with what she was doing and how she was doing it. Her voice, however, was still rough with tears. “Yes. That’s the point of all this.”

The Trickster looked at Chance and nodded. Chance sighed quietly and murmured to Miranda. “As before, jasmine and sandalwood.”

Miranda’s eyes were already closed in concentration. “And tears,” she said softly.

—

In many respects, Niko and Marinel were perfectly suited to each other, for when they argued again, each took on the tone and mannerisms of the other from the first confrontation. He was supercilious and cold, refusing to make eye contact when they met in the street. She was shaken and humiliated, trying every gesture and tone to reach him, crawling in the dust of his footsteps. He kept walking along the road away from her, ignoring her words. When he opened the door of the town house they had shared, she jumped forward and stood braced over the threshold as if afraid he would bar her from entering, but he merely pushed past her. His entire attitude was an implicit insult as he started to take off his muddy overshoes without even bothering to see whether or not she was coming in.

She shut the door quickly behind her and stretched out her hands toward him.

“Please! I have nowhere to go. They think I had something to do with it.”

“You mean you didn’t?” he asked casually, hanging up his rain jacket by the door. “I wonder why they’d think that, then?”

“I’m so scared, Niko. I’m scared for myself, and I’m scared for Lukas too. Whatever it is, what if it comes for him next? You do want to protect your own son, don’t you? You must.”

He gave her a glance out of the corner of his eye, paused long enough to see her shoulders slump in despair, then shrugged. “Then leave him with me. You know I’ll take care of him. But you—you can take care of yourself.”

She gave a soft sob, and at the sound of it he broke suddenly, his face going from coldness to fury. “You heard me! Bring him here. I don’t want you in my life ever again. I want my son!”