Chapter Nineteen

IT FEELS AS if Ravi’s head has been stuffed near to bursting with dry cotton, his stomach churning. But it quickly passes. Cayenne looks lovely, their fox-red hair falling around gold-lined eyes.

This is… Is this what he had been doing? Ravi remembers dancing, he’d definitely been dancing. But for some reason he remembers dancing with…Dr. Corbin? Why would he have been doing that?

I want to try that with you.

Ravi stops in his tracks, pulling Cayenne to a halt with him. His skull throbs, nearly unbearable.

“Mon amour, are you all right? You look pale, and that’s saying something.” Cayenne pushes a hand through the hair fallen over Ravi’s forehead, their features soft with concern. “Too much champagne? Come, let’s take a breather. We’ve dazzled this dull little crowd enough for one gala, don’t you think?” They wink, pulling Ravi by the hand off the dance floor. He follows, nausea sending a cold sweat to his palms.

“What… How did you get here?” But no, Cayenne had been waiting for him, resplendent in their luxe black suit with its bright-gold lapels, following Harry and the rest into the Gala. Ravi had been so happy to see them.

Cayenne gives him a strange look. “The elevator? Remember the magic key? Darling, you are feeling all right? Are you still nervous about all them?” They flip a hand dismissively at the partygoers. “I told you, my hot cup of chai, if anyone raises a fuss, I’ll just spin us back like that”—they snap their fingers—“and we can take care of it any number of ways.”

A glance around only creates further confusion; it’s as if he’s seeing the same image twice, overlaid like two photo negatives laid on top of another. There are more hostile faces than there should be: more Katarajus, only a couple of sullen Bhagavatis, no Eatons, no Harbridges.

Why would he expect to see any Harbridges? The whole family died in a freak plane crash back in August. The Trust is still reeling from the loss.

Ravi catches sight of Harry by the south wall, engaged in conversation with Javier Mason. No sign of Val or Constance. No Ikshana. His aunt stands alone in a corner, her expression darker than the storm now beating raindrops against the windows.

But he remembers only a few minutes ago catching a glimpse of her from over Nate’s shoulder. He remembers how she shook her head with exasperation, even as her lips hinted at a smile. Likely an enigmatic expression to anyone who hasn’t made a lifelong study of her little tells, but it stuck in Ravi’s mind as a clear gesture of support. He could have sworn he saw it.

But now his aunt looks like she’s on her fifth glass of champagne, her under-eyes dark and drawn. People avoid her like she’s a pariah. And Ravi had been dancing with Cayenne, of course.

Things don’t make sense. He’s dizzy, unsure what day it even is. Ravi peers around, leaning into Cayenne to steady himself. “Where’s Nate?”

Cayenne tilts their head to the side. For one brief instant, their worry shifts into nervous suspicion before it’s swept away. “Hmm? Oh, the professor is over there with our fearless leader, mon chéri, no worries.”

And true enough, Harry has left Javier and stands across from Nate with her arms folded tightly against her ribs. Nate nods as she speaks, uncharacteristically serious. He notices Ravi looking, half-smiles in greeting, and nudges Harry. Harry cranes her neck and twiddles her fingers as a substitute for a wave from under her elbow, not uncrossing her arms. Cayenne waves back with gusto, then slides an arm through Ravi’s to guide him to a quieter corner.

A lot of disapproving eyes follow in their wake, an overwhelming profusion of them. The weight of it is oppressive, of all that judging regard. It wasn’t like this a few minutes ago. Was it? Ravi’s head pounds.

“Here, darling, it’s a bit cooler over here.” Cayenne rests against a windowpane, the storm outside beating against the glass. “That was fun. Seeing all those shocked little faces. Quelle amusant.” Their eyes sparkle like faceted gems. “Worth it, non? Aren’t you glad you let me convince you, sweetheart? Not as enjoyable as our dance in the Seychelles, but still a delight.” They wink and slide their hand up his sleeve.

“Cayenne…” Ravi blinks, vision still not quite right. All the lights have haloes. Was his champagne spiked? He’s never been truly, thoroughly drunk before. Maybe it’s supposed to be like this? “Were…were we on a balcony earlier?”

For a millisecond, Cayenne goes stiff before loosening into a casual slouch. “A balcony? I don’t believe so, mon coeur.”

“You had a cigarette? And…” Ravi rubs his brow, trying hard to remember, but it’s like trying to pick up buttered marbles. “And you asked me to…not go to this Gala. You…” A flash of clarity comes back, and he turns a sharp glare on them. “You rewound me. After you promised not to, you— Wait…you—” A niggling memory nips at his heels like a persistent hound. “There was…an airport?”

A chase. A fight. His face smashing into a metal pole, leaning up against a choking arm to kiss the strangely unfamiliar face that was somehow still Cayenne. It doesn’t make sense. Ravi’s stomach lurches.

Cayenne stares at him blankly for a long moment.

“Fuck,” they finally bark, knocking their skull back hard enough to make the glass shake in its frame. “You remember the old timeline. Bordel de merde, fuck me sideways, of course you do. You never make anything easy, do you, my pet?” They rake both hands through their hair with a growl of frustration. “I’ve spun you back and forth too many times. You’re resistant. I’ve tethered you to your original thread. Of course, I fucking did. Ugh.”

Cayenne takes a deep breath, one of the trained sniper breaths they’ve picked up from him. “This is fine. It’s not going to last. The current timeline will assert itself in your brain before too long. It is going to be okay, my love. Je promets.” They smile reassuringly, reaching out for his hand.

Ravi jerks back, pulse acid-thick on his tongue. “This isn’t okay, Cayenne, this is…” There aren’t words in any language he knows for what this is. Nausea rises in him so strongly Ravi has to pinwheel a hand to prop himself upright against the windowpane over Cayenne’s shoulder. Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles through the glass under his palm.

With a soothing murmur, Cayenne places cool hands on either side of his face. “Ravi. Listen to me. It’s going to be okay. We’re together, aren’t we? Like we should be. It’ll just take some time for you to adapt.” They smooth their thumbs over his temples.

Ravi stares at Cayenne, at his beautiful, dangerous monsoon, and sees two versions. One who told him enough truths to keep him in the dark, and one who spun enough lies to show him their true colors.

Half of him picks through his original memories with horror and disbelief over what that old version of Ravi knows about Cayenne. The other half tries and fails not to delve into the new memories. His rewound self only knew a thrilling whirlwind of romance with no shadows to darken it, no ugly past with its debts to pay. Ravi’s skull is splitting in two, memories fractured, heart flayed.

“How…did you go back that far? Isn’t that…” Cayenne can only send their consciousness back so far, though Ravi has never gotten a straight answer on how far that potentially was.

“Trust me, I’ve worked everything out. It’s been an absolute nightmare, sweetheart, you can’t even imagine. So much work, the things I had to agree to! Things kept going wrong even this second time around, so frustrating. I barely managed to remove the Harbridges, and to get all those Eatons arrested. And you would not believe how crafty that old Bhagavati witch was. Well, maybe you would.” They chuckle, patting him on the wrist. “But it’s fine now. All the dominos are set up, and before too long, just one little push, and there we go.” They snap their fingers. “True freedom, as I promised, dearest.”

Ravi swallows thickly. “Why are you even telling me this?” Realization hits him, and he closes his eyes. Pain lances through him, a spear straight through his heart. “You’re just going to spin me back again.”

“Oui, when your memories even out correctly. It should be no trouble at all to take us back to the dance floor. Smooth as silk, darling.” They dart forward to plant a playful kiss on the tip of Ravi’s nose before he can recoil away. “Never fear, you’ll only remember the good things. It’s my gift to you, mon trésor. I’ve done much, much better this time around.” A slow, saucy smile spreads across their perfect face. “There were even a few nights where I’ve improved upon my, hmm, techniques, let’s say. No one else can give you what I can give you, but even so! Practice makes perfect, after all, and we’ve had plenty of practice together. I know you remember. They were very memorable nights.”

Ravi lets his head sink down, nearly pressing their foreheads together as he swallows against bile. He does remember. Every single moment. And he also remembers knowing everything Cayenne has done, all the kaleidoscope of ways they’ve hurt him, hurt others; and Ravi remembers not knowing too, right alongside it. Blissful ignorance.

“How is it,” he hisses, pushing himself upright with difficulty, “that you have no concept of how horrific that is. You’ve erased the last few months of my life.”

Cayenne smiles fondly. “You’re so dramatic, darling. It’s not erased, it’s fixed. Let’s not forget, you were ready to meddle with my memories, yes? Isn’t that what that ring of yours was meant to do? A couple of overwritten months is nothing. Besides,” they say with a touch of ice, “not like there was anything worth keeping there, anyway.”

There was… Wasn’t there something?

There’s more on offer, if you want it.

Sand is slipping through Ravi’s fingers, his memories turning to dust and blowing away. He clenches his jaw, trying to hang on with sheer force of will, but this isn’t a situation he can punch his way out of. He’s fucking useless here.

You’re not broken. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. You’re kintsugi.

“But…I’m going to be…was going to be the next Director. You won’t be…you haven’t been kept captive.”

“True.” Cayenne idly picks at a fuzz on their lapel. “But unlike you, my sexy samosa, I remember all my alternate timelines, though in varying degrees of clarity. So, oui, it didn’t happen in the old timeline because you fixed that—very sweet, by the way, my knight in shining armor—but in this one it did. You and the others never went to the airport, never found out about where I came from or what I did there, so you never told your bitch aunt to not capture me.” Shyly, Cayenne ducks their head, full lower lip caught in their teeth. “It’s usually very dull, going back and reliving a long span of time. But this time, it was nearly all spent with you. Getting to know each other again. Falling for you twice. It seems like I can never get enough of you, my love.” Smiling sweetly, they trace a slim finger along the line of his jaw, down over his rabbiting pulse.

“I… But Harry’s memories? From the urumi. My mother, my uncle…” The twins died in an accidental explosion. He knows that. Cayenne killed them. He knows that too. The urumi was mysteriously lost. Cayenne stole the urumi. Conflicting knowledge collides together behind Ravi’s eyes with all the force of a car crash.

“Ooh, oh, yes! I’m actually very proud of this. All I had to do was have someone tell my past self, before I left the airport and went to that demon cult factory thing, to use the idol to disguise myself before your mother spotted me! Easy! Unfortunately, then I had to use that ghastly thing twice, but! This time I remembered to fix all my freckles, so!” They grin proudly, chin high. “Clever, yes, my love?”

“You… Who did you get to tell your past self? James?”

“Pfff hahaha, no!” Cayenne’s shoulders shake with mirth. “Don’t worry about that, darling, it’ll all be worked out.” They flick a hand carelessly, as if Ravi’s concerns were a fly to be shooed away.

Near frantic, Ravi tries to think, yanking at his hair roots. “Where’s Constance? And Val?” Either of them will be likeliest to be able to help, even if he’s not making sense to them, babbling about lost memories. Constance can keep Cayenne from rewinding Ravi back in time. Maybe give him more opportunities to figure out a plan. He doesn’t know how long he can hang on to his splintered memories, and worse, isn’t even sure what memories he’s losing anymore.

“You don’t remember that one? Ah, alas. While I was away this week, Glinda got impatient with her demon hunt and opened a little portal to Hell. Too bad she was so angry; that’s what got her zapped into the future in the first place. Such a temper.” They grin, adjusting the lay of Ravi’s shirt, smoothing wrinkles. “Anyway, long story short, right now she should be tromping around Hell with Mistress Angelique, trying to find their way out. But even angels can’t teleport out of Hell. So, you see? I’ve thought of everything. No one to undo all my hard work, sweetheart.”

“But…that never happened.” His rapidly dissolving memories diverge at nearly every point, but on this one they agree. Constance hadn’t finished that spell to summon up a demon. The team talked her down before it had taken. James had even shown up in both sets of memories, squawking about paradox. In Ravi’s newer memories, surging strong to the forefront, Cayenne hadn’t been there; gone on one of their frequent trips away, only a couple of days ago.

Cayenne blinks. “Quoi?” They rub their forehead, wincing. “Mais bon sang, qu’est-ce qui se passe? Why do I have two memor— Where is Constance?” They go ramrod straight, eyes wide and alarmed.

“She went into the party before us. With Harry and the rest. You don’t remember?” It had been Cayenne’s idea to go separately, to “make a memorable entrance, mon tigre.” Oddly Ravi remembers this right alongside going in at Harry’s side. Why would Ravi go in arm-in-arm with her? It’s her Gala. Something about a ring? He can’t quite recall, the thought dangling just out of reach.

Cayenne’s face twists in rage. “That’s impossible.” They scan the room, using Ravi’s shoulder to hop up onto their tiptoes for a better view. “Non, non, this could ruin everything. Where the fuck did she go?” They turn to Ravi with a moue of displeasure, voice rising as they pull at their copper hair. “This is—How do you keep doing this? How are you still managing to fuck up my plans? Manhattan. Venice. Borobudur. Monterey. All of it, even on my second try, I couldn’t get any of it to work!”

Try as he might, Ravi can’t remember anything significant happening in Venice or Monterey in either timeline.

“I had to actually get a shovel and dig that damn skeleton up myself. Manual labor, darling, me! And for what? It didn’t even work! How?” Cayenne stamps a foot, drawing some attention from Trusties they soundly ignore. “I know it’s not that limp-dick, James. He wouldn’t dare do anything not on the ‘prime timestream’ and I would feel the quantum fuckery if it were ye olde Good Witch herself. I can’t believe this!” They grab Ravi’s arm and start dragging him toward where Nate and Harry are still deep in conversation. “It’s not my fault I had to seek other options, is it? To find a way to go back such a huge span of time, to start from practically scratch. Putain l’enfer.”

“To…to go back in time so you could lie to me better,” Ravi whispers in a pained hush.

Cayenne stops mid-stride, setting a hand under Ravi’s chin. “Ah, sweetheart. I want you to be happy. And you were much happier this time. See, I told you if you listen to me, I’ll take care of you. Once I fix this little hiccup, we can be happy together.” They bring his hand up to their lips and press a passionate kiss to his pale knuckles. “You and me, ever after. We can finally be free.”

“You…you call this freedom, Cayenne?” Caught like a hapless fly in whatever web they choose to spin. Ravi thinks about twisting out of their grip, about all the martial skills he could employ, but what would be the point? They’d just rewind again and again and again until they get what they want. Despair wells up in his throat like tar. “Fuck, you really did it this time. You got yourself on the team.”

“Eh bien, turns out it wasn’t as fun as I thought it would be.” Cayenne shrugs, skirting around a throng of frowning Brits. “But you’re worth the effort, mon amour. Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay. We just have to make sure the two of them don’t see each other.”

“The two of…who?” His headache is beginning to fade. A bad sign. Sand slipping through the hourglass.

Where is Val? Normally she towers over the crowd, but the angel is nowhere to be seen. She was talking with the Harbridges. Who were all dead. Why had she wanted to talk to them? He can’t remember.

“How’s your memory, sweetheart? Things settling, yet?” Cayenne rubs an encouraging circle between Ravi’s shoulder blades.

“My memory? Is…is something wrong?”

“Ah,” Cayenne says with satisfaction. “Almost there. Delightfully malleable, those neurons. Let’s not say anything too troubling for our friends, oui? Or I’ll just have to skip us back again, which sounds so boring. We’re trying to find Constance, darling, let’s focus on that, hmm?”

Finding Constance. Yeah. That sounds right.

Ravi playfully teases, “You, focused? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Cayenne casts a wide grin back over their shoulder. It’s always gratifying to have made them smile, the sight warming Ravi right down to his toes.

Fuck, wait, that’s not…that’s not him. Or it is, but it’s…

He’s forgetting. The new timeline erasing the old. Ravi swallows hard, his breathing fast and shallow as they approach Nate and Harry’s relatively secluded position, camped out behind the champagne fountain by the door to the unstaffed kitchen.

Cayenne pulls Ravi forward, leaning on his arm. “Bonsoir, mes amis, anyone know where Glinda has squirreled herself away?”

“Glad you two are enjoying yourselves,” Harry says with bright, upbeat sarcasm. “While you were shocking the upper crust, I’ve been fending off marriage proposals left and right. Most of them obviously despise me even while they were asking, so, ya know, that’s been super fun.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t say yes to that Javier guy. He’s pretty dishy.” Nate grins, nudging Harry with his elbow.

Ravi stares at Nate while something claws at the inside of his skull, trying to get out. Looking at Nate is weirdly unsettling, makes the world tilt sideways. As if Ravi were underwater but didn’t realize it until he tried to breach the surface and hit a solid sheet of ice. He can’t breathe.

Harry’s arms are still crossed tight across her chest. “Nah, he acted like a normal person and didn’t ask, because he actually seems sane, unlike everyone else here. I have no idea where Constance is, but it looks like she had the right idea and ditched this shindig. Agent guy, I know you were hoping this would fix things, but even with all the help we’ve given The Trust, I’m not sure this gala is moving the needle in my favor.”

“You okay, Secret Agent Man?” Nate asks, frowning. “You look weird.”

Ravi is drowning and doesn’t know why. He opens his mouth, no idea what to say.

“So complimentary, Professor,” Cayenne interjects sweetly. “With charm like that, one has to wonder why you are woefully single. Has anyone seen Constance? Where was she last, and how long ago?” They cast a nervous glance about, then freeze like a startled hare. “Oh, merde.”

Javier Mason waves at Harry and begins walking over.

“Ooh,” Nate gasps theatrically, giving Harry another nudge. “Spoke too soon, Harry. I think I see him holding a ring box.”

“Hilarious. You’re lucky I didn’t bring any quarters, Doc.” She steps to the side to greet Mason with a nonchalant nod. “Back so soon?”

“Couldn’t stay away,” Mason answers with a charming smile. He glances at the rest of the team. “Everyone enjoying the party?”

Cayenne smiles, but their grip on Ravi’s arm tenses like a wound wire, the pulse visibly racing in their throat. He squeezes their arm, not sure what’s wrong but offering comfort, nonetheless.

A loud hiss rises from ground level. Harry’s pant leg moves as if of its own volition. She jumps. “Fuck, Griz, ouch! What?”

“Something smells most foul,” comes a feline growl.

“Le chat.” Cayenne’s eyes fly wide. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, where did she—”

The nearby door to the kitchen bangs open, spilling out both Constance and Ikshana in a disorderly tumble. Cayenne quickly skips back, putting Ravi’s body between them.

Ikshana doesn’t look so lofty and disaffected right now, with their ivory complexion splotched and ruddy, long hair mussed into big tufts as if it had been grabbed in handfuls. Belatedly noticing them all, Ikshana snaps out of a smiling daze, cheeks flaring scarlet. The seer draws themself up very straight to smooth their askew jacket, inclines their head in polite acknowledgement, and walks away like their heels were on fire.

Constance, less rumpled but also quite flushed, adjusts her skirt with one hand and stuffs industrial-sized containers of peppercorns and saffron into her little handbag with the other. She grins brightly. “Ah! Hail to thee, mine companions! I hope you have been finding this party as diverting as I have. Pray, did anyone feel anything strange a few moments ago? Like a great shifting, or a turning, perhaps?”

“You,” Mason growls like a thrown dagger. The sheer, unnatural hatred in his eyes sends the hair on the back of Ravi’s neck prickling.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Cayenne groans, eyes rolling heavenward. “My luck today, c’est incroyablement mauvais.”

Four people scattered among the crowd cry out and fall to their knees, Ikshana among them, to a growing susurrus of concern. Ravi tenses, swallowing nausea, hand twitching for his absent gun. Harry takes a step toward the fallen, then hesitates, looking back to the team. The only ones who haven’t turned toward the uproar are Constance and Mason, locked in an antagonistic stare-down.

Nate’s gaze wavers between them. “The fuck is going on?”

Little cracks creep through the parquet floor around Constance’s feet, splintering against some unseen force. She ignores everything but Mason.

“What say you we leave these future folk to their fine revelries and settle our score face-to-face, thou craven worm?”

Harry’s eyes snap open wide. Her hand flies to her pocket as Mason’s face twists into a mocking smile, and he bows with that same archaic flourish of the wrist that Ravi has only ever seen before from Constance.

Mason’s American affectation slips. “Alas, beldam, thou hast not the cunning to catch me even now. I’ve made a wiser choice of allies than you. Though I must admit this ruse has grown wearying. Such a pleasure to see you here, Shaw, and not trapped in a little pocket of Hell waiting for my return.” The demon rolls his shoulders as if shrugging off an ill-fitting coat, mannerisms changing entirely. “This does change matters, chronomage,” Hartnell says with a narrow glare at Cayenne. “Our timetable has moved up.”

Ravi stiffens and moves to block Cayenne from the demon. He spares a second to scan the room for Val. Without her, no one but Harry can arm themselves. Ravi is more than willing to put his fists to the test, but he doubts there’s much he can do to slow down a demon prince.

Harry heaves a loud, exasperated sigh. “Wow, the one guy I was kinda into is a demon. Honestly? Not such a surprise with my dating record.” The urumi unfurls from her pocket in a shimmering, deadly waterfall. “Pep, care to explain what he’s talking about? What timetable?”

Cayenne ignores her, clinging tightly to Ravi. “This wasn’t the deal,” they snarl around him at Hartnell.

Hartnell sneers. “You speak to me of keeping our bargain? Your continual incompetence led to this, time wizard, despite all the wisdom and power I have been kind enough to grant you. I was supposed to have a resurrected demon army by now, and this filthy Trust was supposed to be in tatters. Yet somehow, with all the near-infinite power of time travel at your command, you still managed to fuck it all up.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Cayenne spits defiance at the demon prince. “Like you would have been able to slip into what’s-his-name’s life without my help.”

“You…” Constance’s face contorts with betrayal. “You helped him?”

“This…has to be a mistake,” Ravi rasps. “Cay, what’s going on?” Why does he feel like he’s been torn in half and inexpertly sewn together? He’s not sure why, but he looks to Nate. Somehow, Nate feels like a safe harbor, a fixed point Ravi can trust even though the world is spinning wildly around him.

Cayenne pats Ravi’s arm. “Hush, darling. This wasn’t the deal, demon.”

“A demon, lying? You shock me.” Hartnell grins toothily. “I jest. Never fear, time wizard. Your lover shall remain untouched and whole.” He waves dismissively in Ravi’s direction, then leers at Harry. “It wouldn’t have taken much to bed you. Some Chosen demon-slayer you are. Durga must be so embarrassed.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I think it’s high time we fuck up this slut-shaming demon prick, anyone else?” Harry shifts into a fighting stance, urumi poised to strike. Ravi follows suit, waiting on Harry’s word. Constance’s fingers move at her sides as if plucking invisible threads, the air taking on the faint loamy aroma of old woods, of dark earth and decay.

Hartnell laughs and spreads his arms wide, opening himself for an attack. “Yes, strike at me, Angharad. Show all these good folks what a paragon of sanity and sobriety you are. How well their goddess has chosen! Attacking an upstanding member of their community. Most of them already think your mere existence marks the end of their noble institution.”

Harry hesitates, doubt flickering across her face. The urumi hangs limp.

“And you’ve been helping them along, haven’t you?” Ravi husks, holding his throbbing forehead. “Whispering from the shadows.” He doesn’t have any weapons, but maybe he can buy Constance a little more time for whatever spell she’s planning.

“Look what you’ve done,” Cayenne pouts. “You’ve upset my beautiful boy! Darlings, this is all building up to quite a dramatic finish, I’m sure, but I think I’m just going to take a mulligan on this whole fucking mess.” They lift their hand.

Before Cayenne can touch their tattoo, a piercing yowl cuts through the drone of the crowd. Hartnell reels back, long scratches raking across his face. He screams, hands flying up to grapple with something nobody else can see.

“Avaunt, villain! Taste mine fearsome talons, thou vile scourge!”

With a furious snarl, Hartnell flings Griswold away from him. The cat hits hard, flickering out of invisibility. He limps as he pushes himself up to his paws, wobbling unsteadily.

The cracks in the floor split wide with the sound of breaking bones. “You hit my cat,” Constance growls. Her hands curl around air.

For a split second, Hartnell’s eyes widen in alarm, but then he grins, blood dripping down his face. “T’would appear the chase is back on, mine nemesis. See you in Hell!” He taps a finger to his forelock in a mocking salute and disappears.

“Fuck!” Constance screams with frustration, magic sheeting off her in useless sparks at her feet.

“The Devil!” Ikshana cries out loudly and clearly, attended to by a handful of concerned partygoers. Their head lolls back, eyes pure white. “The Tower! The Hanged Man!”

“A trifle bloody late for that prediction, methinks,” Constance snarls, turning a dark glare on Cayenne. “What hast thou done?”

Cayenne rolls their eyes hugely. “Ugh! This is all wrong. Fine! I’ll rewind.”

Feral and fierce, Constance bares her teeth. “And allow him to escape again? Don’t you dare—”

And nearly at the same time as Cayenne sets a hand to their clock tattoo, Constance lunges forward, her hands still sparking with unspent magic, and grabs Cayenne’s wrist.