flight. “Try it. There’re a lot more mystics than just an hour ago.”
Confused, Peri watched as the woman settled the large candle under the bowl, pinching the wick between her thumb and finger. Peri’s lips parted as Rachel let go, a tiny flame growing in strength between them. “H-how . . .” Peri stammered, shocked at Rachel’s long, content sigh.
“Damn,” the woman said as she perched herself on the edge of the seat. “That felt good.”
“Nice job, Rache,” Jenks said, then laughed at Peri’s open mouth. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, babe.”
“Magic?” Peri said, pulse fast. “I don’t believe it.”
“Fortunately, you don’t have to,” Rachel said as she pushed the melting tea light around. “Wax is a great inert carrier of intent. The stone represents the power of the accelerator we’re trying to duplicate.”
Peri jumped at the ting as Rachel dropped the stone in.
“Your phone is sympathetic to how the accelerator carries information,” Rachel said, sliding it off the table and watching Peri closely as she set it in the pot and wax slowly engulfed it.
“I’m not getting that back in working order, am I,” Peri said, and Jenks gleefully shook his head.
“And a drop of blood to activate it,” Rachel said, taking a diabetic stick from her bracelet. It had been hanging there all the time, lost in the bangles and trinkets. Charms , Peri corrected herself, lip curling when Rachel pricked her finger and squeezed a drop in.
Rachel smeared the remaining blood from her finger, her smile bland and without meaning. “Now all we need is your memory to give it substance,” she said.
“Me!” Peri exclaimed, and Jenks darted into the air.
Voice loud, he whispered, “Rache, this isn’t going to work. I thought you saw it.”
“I did, but it’s not what it looks like. It’s what it feels like,” Rachel said, waving him away. “Peri can do this. She makes reality out of thought all the time. It’s her job.”
“She does what?” Jenks shrilled, and Rachel calmly blew his dust away before it got into the pot.
Peri had never thought of it like that before, and she sat before Rachel, the candle-warmed pot of wax between them. Oh, God. What if Bill calls? she thought, seeing her phone in a puddle of soon-to-be-radioactive wax. “What . . .” she began. “I don’t . . .”
“That’s what you do, isn’t it?” Rachel asked, her eyes flicking to Peri’s talismans.
It was, but Rachel was talking about changing form, not imprinting a memory trigger.
“You touched it,” Rachel said. “Felt its energy. Put your hands around the bowl.”
Peri didn’t move, and she jumped when Rachel took her hands, trapping them between her palms and the warm pot. “Remember what it was, and store the memory in the stone, like a talisman,” Rachel said. “Just do it, Peri.”
Peri looked from Rachel, who clearly thought she could do this, to Jenks, who clearly thought she couldn’t. They’re absolutely nuts.
“Or do nothing, and you’ll not only have a wax-covered radioactive stone and a busted phone, but two new roommates,” Jenks said.
Immediately Peri closed her eyes, focusing on the memory of Jack stealing the accelerator from the lab’s safe, marveling at it in the faint light before he tossed it to her to put in her purse. The shock of it thumping into her palm rang through her, the scent of ozone from the massive servers, how the flat facets of the cut crystal seemed to prick against her palm with tiny shocks, the weight of it akin to the weight of an egg, and how she felt it held the promise of a new beginning, much as an egg did.
“Peri?” Rachel whispered.
But she was lost, remembering Jack, his laughing eyes as he saw her react to the stone and the fact that they’d done the impossible again: his pride in her, his confidence, his trust.
“Peri.”
And her soft, up to now forgotten, niggling question of why the accelerator had been locked in a lab
Confused, Peri watched as the woman settled the large candle under the bowl, pinching the wick between her thumb and finger. Peri’s lips parted as Rachel let go, a tiny flame growing in strength between them. “H-how . . .” Peri stammered, shocked at Rachel’s long, content sigh.
“Damn,” the woman said as she perched herself on the edge of the seat. “That felt good.”
“Nice job, Rache,” Jenks said, then laughed at Peri’s open mouth. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, babe.”
“Magic?” Peri said, pulse fast. “I don’t believe it.”
“Fortunately, you don’t have to,” Rachel said as she pushed the melting tea light around. “Wax is a great inert carrier of intent. The stone represents the power of the accelerator we’re trying to duplicate.”
Peri jumped at the ting as Rachel dropped the stone in.
“Your phone is sympathetic to how the accelerator carries information,” Rachel said, sliding it off the table and watching Peri closely as she set it in the pot and wax slowly engulfed it.
“I’m not getting that back in working order, am I,” Peri said, and Jenks gleefully shook his head.
“And a drop of blood to activate it,” Rachel said, taking a diabetic stick from her bracelet. It had been hanging there all the time, lost in the bangles and trinkets. Charms , Peri corrected herself, lip curling when Rachel pricked her finger and squeezed a drop in.
Rachel smeared the remaining blood from her finger, her smile bland and without meaning. “Now all we need is your memory to give it substance,” she said.
“Me!” Peri exclaimed, and Jenks darted into the air.
Voice loud, he whispered, “Rache, this isn’t going to work. I thought you saw it.”
“I did, but it’s not what it looks like. It’s what it feels like,” Rachel said, waving him away. “Peri can do this. She makes reality out of thought all the time. It’s her job.”
“She does what?” Jenks shrilled, and Rachel calmly blew his dust away before it got into the pot.
Peri had never thought of it like that before, and she sat before Rachel, the candle-warmed pot of wax between them. Oh, God. What if Bill calls? she thought, seeing her phone in a puddle of soon-to-be-radioactive wax. “What . . .” she began. “I don’t . . .”
“That’s what you do, isn’t it?” Rachel asked, her eyes flicking to Peri’s talismans.
It was, but Rachel was talking about changing form, not imprinting a memory trigger.
“You touched it,” Rachel said. “Felt its energy. Put your hands around the bowl.”
Peri didn’t move, and she jumped when Rachel took her hands, trapping them between her palms and the warm pot. “Remember what it was, and store the memory in the stone, like a talisman,” Rachel said. “Just do it, Peri.”
Peri looked from Rachel, who clearly thought she could do this, to Jenks, who clearly thought she couldn’t. They’re absolutely nuts.
“Or do nothing, and you’ll not only have a wax-covered radioactive stone and a busted phone, but two new roommates,” Jenks said.
Immediately Peri closed her eyes, focusing on the memory of Jack stealing the accelerator from the lab’s safe, marveling at it in the faint light before he tossed it to her to put in her purse. The shock of it thumping into her palm rang through her, the scent of ozone from the massive servers, how the flat facets of the cut crystal seemed to prick against her palm with tiny shocks, the weight of it akin to the weight of an egg, and how she felt it held the promise of a new beginning, much as an egg did.
“Peri?” Rachel whispered.
But she was lost, remembering Jack, his laughing eyes as he saw her react to the stone and the fact that they’d done the impossible again: his pride in her, his confidence, his trust.
“Peri.”
And her soft, up to now forgotten, niggling question of why the accelerator had been locked in a lab
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