"If you do not have the lump sum, we can set up a payment schedule," Emel suggested. "Of course, there would be interest involved ..."
"Three payments," she said. "No interest."
"Within three months, the first good-faith payment due by the end of this week."
"You're forcing me to choose between clothes for the winter and being forever in debt to the Sect. I don't appreciate that."
"I'm sorry, Cerise. I truly am."
The creature awoke. "I very much care about all of you," Emel said. "The Sect does not wish me involved in this affair with the Hand. But I'll try to help the best I can. I will find a way."
The beast took to the air and vanished into the darkness outside.
Kaldar slammed the window closed.
"Where are we going to get the money?" Ignata murmured.
"My grandmother's jewelry," Cerise said. She thought of the elegant emeralds set in the pale white gold, thin like silk. Her link to her mother, the last link to the life that could've been. It felt like ripping a chunk of herself out, but the money had to come from somewhere and that was the last reserve they had. "We'll sell the emeralds."
Ignata gaped. "They are heirloom pieces. She meant them for your wedding. You can't sell them."
Oh, she could. She could. She just had to have a good long cry before she did it, so she didn't break into tears during the sale. "Watch me."
"Cerise!"
"They are just rocks. Rocks and metal. You can't eat them, they won't make you warm. We have to pay the debt and the kids need new clothes. We need new ammunition and food."
"Why can't he pay?" Erian nodded toward William. "He killed it."
"He has no money," Cerise said. "And even if he did, I wouldn't take it."
William opened his mouth, but she stood up. "That's it, the debate is over. I'll see y'all later."
She headed outside onto the verandah before she broke to pieces.
OUTSIDE the cold night air wrapped around Cerise. She took a deep breath and started down around the balcony, to the door leading to her favorite hiding spot.
A dark shape dropped onto the balcony in front of her. Wild eyes glared at her. William.
How in the world did he get ahead of her? She crossed her arms on her chest.
He straightened.
"You're in my way," she told him.
"Don't sell them. I'll give you the money."
"I don't want your money."
"Is this because you're still pissed off about Lagar?"
She threw her hands up. "You stupid man. Don't you get it? Lagar was trapped like me. We were both born into this, we couldn't leave, and we knew we would eventually kill each other. What we wanted made no difference. At least he could've run away, but I'm stuck here because of the family. I didn't love him, William. There was nothing there except regret."
"So take the damn money."
"No!"
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to be obligated to you."
He growled.
Quick steps approached. They both turned.
Aunt Pete came running from around the corner. "Cerise?"
Dear Gods, couldn't they leave her alone for just a moment? Cerise heaved a sigh. "Yes?"
"Kaldar's boys came back. They found the house where the Hand is holed up and took pictures." Aunt Pete wheezed. "Hold on, let me catch my breath." She thrust the photographs out.
Cerise took the pictures and held them up to the weak light filtering outside through the window. Big house with a glass hothouse on the side. Kaldar's guys got really close. She would have to speak to him about that - no need to take chances.
Aunt Pete pulled the pictures from her hand and slapped one on top of the stack. "Never mind all that. This one, look at this one!"
The photograph showed the close up of the hothouse, taken through a clear glass pane. A two-foot tall stump of a tree jutted sadly through dirt. The tree's stem was blue and translucent, as if made of glass. Borrower's Tree, one of the Weird's magical plants.
Cerise glanced up.
Aunt Pete huffed. "You know what this tree is used for. Think, Cerise."
Cerise frowned. In small quantities, Borrower's tree was harvested to produce catalysts that bound human and plant. William had said the Hand was full of freaks; some of them probably had grafted plant parts and needed the catalysts. It did look like a fairly sizable tree, and it was cut down to a nub, so they must've needed a hell of a lot of catalyst.
The only reason to have that much catalyst would be to actually transform someone through the use of magic. But who would Spider transform? All his guys were already as transformed as they were going to get. It had to be the captives. But it wouldn't make sense to graft anything on them; no, he had to be doing very specific things to achieve mental control over them, in which case it would be . . .
The pictures fluttered from her hand. Cerise rocked back. "He's fusing my mother!"
The world went white in a moment of rage and panic. Her head turned hot, her fingers ice-cold. She froze, like a child trapped in a moment of getting caught. Memories streamed past her: mother, with her blue eyes and halo of soft hair, standing by the stove, a spoon in hand, saying something, so tall . . . Going outside to the porch hand in hand; fixing her hair; reading together in a big chair, her head nestled against her mother's shoulder; her mother's smell, her voice, her . . .
Oh, my Gods. All gone. All gone forever. Mother was gone. Mother, who could fix anything, couldn't fix this. Fusion was irreversible. She was gone, gone.
No. No, no, no.
A crushing heaviness swelled in Cerise's chest and tried to drag her down to the floor. She clenched against the pain, her throat caught in a tight ring, and forced herself to walk away, half-blind from the tears. "I have to go now. So nobody will see."
Hands swept her off her feet. William carried her off, away from Aunt Pete, away from the noises from the kitchen, to the door, and up the stairs, and then into her little room. Her face was wet and she stuck it into his shoulder. He gripped her, his warm arms cradling her, and sank to the floor.
"They're fusing my mother." Her voice came out strangled. "They're turning her into a monster and she would know. She would know what they were doing. The whole time."
"Easy," he murmured. "Easy. I have you."
Mother's beautiful smile. Her warm hands, her eyes full of laughter. Her "I have the silliest children." Her "sweet-heart, I love you." "You look beautiful, darling." All gone forever. There would be no good-bye and no rescue. All the deaths, all the scrambling, it was all for nothing. Mother wasn't coming back to her and Lark.