Infernal

  Sounded like voodoo. And seemed too simple. But no downside to trying.

  Then she read the final paragraph. There would be a price to pay.

  Gia folded her arms on the book, lowered her head, and sobbed.

  * * *

  TUESDAY

  -47:12

  Gia found the little shop she sought on Bayard Street. It had a name but it was written in Chinese. She didn’t care what it was called. The important thing was that it was open.

  Thank God.

  A little after midnight Jack had awakened and taken over perusing the Compendium. Gia showed him where she’d left off—just beyond the Remedies section—and he’d picked up from there. She hadn’t mentioned the “Stain Removal.”

  They’d alternated two-hour shifts through the night. Jack managed to doze between his but Gia found sleep impossible. She’d discovered what might—might—be a way out for Vicky. She prayed it would work. If it did, she’d deal with the price afterward.

  She’d watched the clock all night, watched the sky through the window, waiting for dawn. Around seven thirty she’d left Jack dozing and slipped out, hailed a cab, and rode it to Chinatown.

  As she stepped through the door of the tiny shop she half expected the proprietor to be elderly with a wispy white beard and dressed like a mandarin. Instead she found a gaunt young man, maybe thirty, dressed in a black T-shirt and black jeans.

  She handed him the list of ingredients. He studied it, then frowned and pointed to the third item: crushed monkshood petals.

  “This poison.”

  Poison? Oh, no.

  “It… it can’t be.”

  “Yes. Kill you dead you eat. Rub on skin, okay, but not for eat.”

  That was a relief. Sort of.

  “I understand. This will be used on skin. What about the rest? Have you got the rest?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Not lot, but some.”

  “Some will do just fine.”

  He squinted at her. “This very strange list. What you use for?”

  “An experiment. A successful one, I hope.”

  A few minutes later she was hurrying up to Canal Street to find a cab.

  * * *

  -46:51

  She found Jack bent over the Compendium. He looked up as Gia entered the kitchen. His eyes were red and bleary. She was sure hers were no better.

  “Where’ve you been, Gi? I’ve been worried about you.”

  She tried to keep her expression neutral. She didn’t want to give anything away.

  “I left you a note.”

  “Yeah: ‘Went out for some things. Be back soon.’ What things?”

  “Ingredients.”

  “For?”

  She pointed to the Compendium. “Something I saw in there. A recipe for a stain remover.”

  His eyes widened as he began leafing back through the pages. “Where? Where?”

  “Somewhere near the middle,” she said, then quickly added, “Don’t bother. I wrote down all the ingredients.”

  “But didn’t the book say it can’t be removed, even if you cut away the skin?”

  “No. It said it may not be ‘shed.’ There’s a difference between shedding and having it removed by someone else.”

  “Sounds like a lot of parsing, but…”

  “But what have we got to lose?”

  He nodded. “Right.”

  Gia hoped that would be enough, that he wouldn’t go back to search for the page.

  She found a saucepan, emptied the bottle of vanilla extract into it, and turned on the gas. While that was heating she laid out the other ten ingredients.

  She consulted her notes—many times; she could barely think—and measured the proper proportions of the other ingredients. She noticed her hands trembling.

  When the vanilla extract came to a boil, she took it off to let it cool. Then she began blending the rest in a stainless steel mixing bowl.

  Five minutes later she added the vanilla and the proper amount of water, then began heating it all to a boil.

  “I just…” Jack began. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

  She glanced at him. “You mean our hopes?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Our hopes.”

  “Don’t worry. Really, how could I feel any worse? I’m simply trying something. I’m ready to try anything.”

  But her hopes were sky high. The remedy had mentioned the Lilitongue by name. She only prayed she hadn’t messed up the proportions, and that the vanilla “juice” she’d concocted was the right one called for.

  Once she’d brought the mix to a boil—it measured about a cup—she removed it from the heat and poured it into a saucepan to speed its cooling. She looked at the steaming brown liquid and thought, I’m crazy. This isn’t going to work.

  But she had to try. Especially since she couldn’t see a downside.

  Except for the monkshood. She’d Googled that while waiting for the mix to boil. What the Chinese man had told her was true: poison if taken internally but long used topically for pain relief.

  Under no other circumstance could she imagine applying a poisonous mixture to Vicky’s back…

  Gia climbed to her second-floor bedroom and stood in the doorway. Her eyes filled with tears as she watched her sleeping child. She looked at the clock radio on the nightstand.

  Thirty-six hours gone. That left just under two days.

  My God, my God, my God, how am I going to live if she’s taken away from me?

  She stretched out beside Vicky and wrapped her arms around her. If the solution didn’t work, maybe when the time came, if Gia held her tight enough, Vicky wouldn’t, couldn’t be taken away.

  The pressure must have awakened Vicky because she started and twisted around.

  “Mom! You’re crushing me!”

  “Sorry, honey. Come on downstairs. I’ve got something I want to try on that mark on your back… see if we can wash it away.”

  Vicky hopped out of bed and headed for the door.

  “Really? Okay! Let’s do it now! I hate that mark! It’s ugly and I don’t want it on me.”

  Gia clutched the banister railing for support as she followed Vicky’s bounding descent.

  Please let this work, God. Please.

  When Vicky saw Jack she squealed and leaped into his arms with the abandon of a child who had no fear of being dropped. Not by Jack, anyway. Not with their history. They’d bonded, those two, and nothing would tear them apart. Nothing except…

  Jack squeezed her and laughed, but his expression as he looked at Gia over Vicky’s shoulder revealed his desperation. She saw him blinking back tears.

  “Okay, Vicks,” he said. “Your mom’s going to try something on your back to see if we can get rid of that Stain.”

  He set her on one of the kitchen chairs and lifted the back of her pajama top. Gia suppressed a gasp. The Stain… it now spanned almost the entire width of her narrow little back.

  She stepped to the counter where she’d put the solution to cool and tested the temperature. Most of the heat had dissipated, leaving a mildly warm liquid. Gia pressed her palm into the saucepan. Once she had a thick coating, she turned and smeared the solution onto the Stain.

  And now… the final prescribed ingredient: As she rubbed she had to make a wish. Not just any wish. The book had been very specific, going so far as to dictate the exact terms of the wish.

  She felt almost silly. A wish… she’d been wishing the Stain away since her first sight of it. Of course she hadn’t had the recipe until now. The Compendium said the solution plus a specific wish would do it.

  A simple wish…

  Yet she hesitated. She hated herself for faltering, but couldn’t help it. This wish, if answered, would change so many things… would change everything…

  And yet, how could she deny Vicky her safety?

  So Gia closed her eyes and made the wish…

  … and prayed…

  … and hoped…

  …and—

>   She felt her palm grow warm, hot.

  “Ow, Mom! That hurts!”

  “Jesus Christ!”

  Jack’s voice. She opened her eyes and looked at Vicky’s back.

  She’d smeared the solution over the middle of the Stain, planning to coat it to its borders and beyond. But that wouldn’t be necessary.

  With her heart bursting Gia watched the edges of the Stain retreat, fading as they drew back toward Vicky’s spine.

  Could it be? She ached to believe it but couldn’t help thinking that her mind was conspiring with her eyes to let her see what she most desperately wanted.

  “It’s gone!” Jack whispered.

  And it was. Not just her imagination or wishful thinking—he saw it too. Without a trace. Except for a smear of brown liquid, Vicky’s back was clear.

  Gia wrapped her arms around Vicky and began to sob.

  It worked! It worked!

  That clear little back was worth anything—even the burning itching sensation that had just begun on her own.

  * * *

  -45:42

  Tom awoke and stretched. He felt crummy. A little nausea, a thick tongue, burning nostrils. Now he remembered why he’d kicked that habit.

  Still, last night’s little toot had got him through his bad case of the downs. Didn’t make today look any better, though.

  He checked the clock: after ten. He hadn’t heard from Jack. Not that he expected to, but he was eager to learn what he and Gia had found during their all-nighter.

  He forced himself upright, waited for the room to stop wobbling, then checked out the bedside phone. Three speed-dial buttons. He pressed number one.

  Someone picked up alter three rings. Jack.

  “Hey, it’s Tom. Any luck last night?”

  “Yeah. Lucky for you. You had your sorry ass yanked out of the fire.”

  “You mean—?”

  “Yeah. Gia found something in the book that erased Vicky’s Stain.”

  “Oh, thank God! That’s wonderful news!”

  And he meant it. Now he might work his way back into Gia’s good graces. And of course it was a relief that her little girl was out of danger.

  “For you too,” Jack said. “You get to live a little longer.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Never mind. Just count yourself lucky.”

  And then Tom was holding a dead phone. Jack had hung up on him. Must be still pissed at him.

  Who cared?

  Tom did a quick wash-up, dressed, then headed for the street. He caught a cab on Columbus Avenue and told the driver to take him to Eight Sutton Square.

  * * *

  -45:11

  “Jack! Jack!”

  Jack looked up from the Compendium as a wide-eyed Vicky rushed into the kitchen.

  “What’s up, Vicks?”

  “That thing! That weird thing! It’s gone! It’s not in my room anymore!”

  Jack was surprised, but then realized it made sense. Vicky no longer carried the Stain, so the Lilitongue would no longer be hovering around her.

  “No kidding? Let’s go see.”

  Gia was in the shower, so Jack followed Vicky upstairs to her bedroom and, sure enough, no Lilitongue hanging in the corner.

  Jack let out a breath. Here was confirmation that the damned thing’s connection to Vicky had been broken.

  “This is great, Vicky.”

  She looked up at him with concern in her big blue eyes. “Is it gone for good? It won’t be back?”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  “Good. I felt like it was watching me. It was scary.”

  More than you know, Vicks, he thought. More than I hope you’ll ever know.

  When Jack stepped out into the hall she stayed close behind him—still didn’t want to be alone in her room, he guessed.

  She ran downstairs while he stopped at the phone in the hall and called home. He wanted to ask Tom if the Lilitongue had returned to its chest, but no one picked up.

  As he passed the bathroom he heard Gia sobbing in the shower. His throat tightened. Jack had felt like sobbing himself when he’d seen Vicky’s clear back. He’d been worried sick about her, but he couldn’t have been as terrified as Gia.

  He moved on, but as he passed her bedroom, something caught his eye. He backed up.

  His blood turned to ice as he recognized the Lilitongue hovering in a corner. He stood in the doorway, unable to move, unable to breathe, feeling as though the world around him had come to a screeching halt.

  The Lilitongue had moved… okay. But why here instead of back to its chest? Vicky had spent the night in Gia’s room, so that might explain it, but it should be gone. If Vicky was in the clear, why was it still hanging around?

  Or was she in the clear? What if the Stain had been only temporarily removed? What if it was back?

  He ran downstairs, but before heading for the kitchen he looked for Vicky. An awful thought had occurred to him: What if the Lilitongue’s presence meant that the Stain had returned?

  He found her reading the latest Mutts collection in the library.

  “Hey, Vicks. Mind if I take a quick look at your back? I just want to make sure that mark is gone.”

  A concerned look flashed across her face. “You don’t think it came back, do you?”

  “Nah. Just want to make sure, is all.”

  “Okay.”

  She turned and lifted her T-shirt partway up her back. Jack dropped to his knees behind her and raised it the rest of the way. He released a sigh of relief when he saw her unmarred skin.

  “Nope. Still gone.”

  He dropped the back of the shirt and rose to his feet.

  “Good! I hope it never comes back.”

  “You and me both, kiddo. You and me both.”

  Okay. Vicky was clear. So why was the Lilitongue still here?

  Jack wondered if Gia knew. No. Couldn’t. She’d have said something. She was going to be upset when she found out. Maybe he could find an explanation before she finished her shower.

  He raced to the kitchen and grabbed the Compendium. As he flipped through the pages, he heard the shower stop. Had to hurry.

  He went back and forth until he found a section called Remedies. Could that be it?

  A long section. He searched page after page until a heading stopped him: Stealing the Stain. That had to be it.

  But something about it rang a warning bell.

  He flashed through the list of odd ingredients until he came to the oddest of all.

  “And last, to make the transfer complete, the taker must wish the Stain for himself. There can be no success without the wish. If successfully transferred, the Stain will appear on the taker who shall be required to wait only the hours remaining to the original Stained until escape. Have no fear of losing the Stain to the original Stained: Once lost, it may never be regained.”

  Jack read the passage again. And again. The tone was throwing him off… almost congratulatory. But he pushed through, trying to assemble the words into a shape, a thought, a message that made sense and wouldn’t send him tearing upstairs screaming for Gia to tell him that it wasn’t true, that she hadn’t done this.

  He couldn’t. No doubt about it. He didn’t need to see her back to know that Gia had taken—”stolen”—the Stain from Vicky and transferred it to herself.

  He understood it… so typically Gia… she’d do anything to protect Vicky.

  Jack leaned back and forced his numb brain to review his options. He came up with only one.

  He heard Gia on the stairs. She walked in wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. Her hair was still wet. Her red, puffy eyes told the story. She hadn’t been sobbing with relief in the shower—she was frightened.

  As she entered the kitchen Jack rose and faced her.