a single pack slung across her shoulders, to two people who walk beside her. It’s almost freeing, the knowledge that there’s nothing to go back to. Even the laptop with all her research notes is gone, sacrificed to the blaze.
“I need to call my parents when we stop for gas,” she says, once they reach the car (sensibly parked two blocks over, in case the house was under surveillance).
Erin shakes her head. “You can’t. They have to believe you died in the fire.”
Dodger feels her eyes widen. “But—”
“Your parents don’t work for the alchemist who made you, Dodger. You were a legitimate adoption. That means they’re vulnerable. If you make contact, they could wind up dealing with someone like me—someone who’s acting on orders.” There are worse things than Erin in Reed’s bag of tricks. The thought of the Cheswiches meeting Leigh is chilling. She doesn’t want Dodger to live with the knowledge that she was responsible for the death of her parents. That’s already happened too many times. It’s not necessary.
She doesn’t think it’s necessary.
She hopes it’s not.
“Wait,” says Roger. “Why did you phrase it like that? That she was a ‘legitimate’ adoption. What are you saying?”
“Only one of you was placed in a civilian household, and it’s not safe for you to contact your parents either, but for a whole different set of reasons.” Erin holds up her free hand. “Give me the car keys. The two of you need to catch up, and that’ll be easier if you’re not trying to pay attention to the road.”
Roger and Dodger exchange a look, expressions unsure. Erin sighs.
“I wouldn’t have saved your fucking lives if I was going to drive us off a cliff,” she says. “But you need to get tangled up in each other the way you used to be—don’t look at me like that, I was assigned to watch you, remember? I can tell when you’re sharing one head instead of living in two. You’re not supposed to be completely separate. I need you to manifest as fast as possible, and this is where it starts. With you, in the car, making it right.”
“You keep using that word,” says Dodger. “‘Manifest.’ What do you want us to do?”
Erin continues to hold out her hand for the keys. “I want you to do what every molecule of your bodies was designed to do. I want you to embody the Doctrine of Ethos. Once you do that, once you become the living force that holds the universe together, they won’t be able to touch you. They might try, but it isn’t going to matter, because you’re going to be more than they can handle. If you don’t manifest, that’s it: this is the end of the line. They’re going to figure out that I’ve turned, if they haven’t figured it out already, and they’re going to send someone else to clean up my mess. And if we defeat that person, they’ll send another, and another, and the whole time, they’ll be trying to force their new protégés to manifest the Doctrine. This is a race. Do you get that? This is a race, and if you lose, you die.”
Roger and Dodger stare at her. Roger finds his voice first, asking, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this? You’ve had seven years to tell me this.”
“I love that we live in a world where that’s the confusing part and not, I don’t know, everything else,” mutters Dodger.
Erin ignores her. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t have to, and because I was hoping you’d decide to make things right with your sister in your own time, and because I didn’t have any way to prove it. I could do the thing with the coins, but that’s not proof; that’s a parlor trick. The whole ‘phone calls to the past’ gimmick was a Hail Mary. I didn’t know for sure that she was going to pick up until she did. Time is her thing, not yours.”
“Wait, what?” asks Dodger.
“Time is math made manifest in the physical world,” says Erin. “Time is your thing.”
“What’s mine?” asks Roger.
Erin’s smile is more a grimace, baring all her teeth. “You got everything else, and you got her. Now will you give me the damn keys and get in the car? This Hand of Glory isn’t going to last forever, and I don’t have time to make another one. Once it runs out, we’re going to be a beacon for anyone who’s looking for reality