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β€œYour eyes have changed,” she said. β€œYou understand the meaning.”

β€œI think so, yeah,” I replied, my heart beating urgently. Like Olga’s rock salt, sometimes the best magic was no magic at all. β€œHow soon can we leave for the train station?”

β€œAs soon as you are ready,” she said.

I stood quickly. β€œGive me five minutes.”

I’ve got a gold cup to hack.

18

Somewhere over Spain it occurred to me that I might not have to hack Chicory’s cup. My own cup required an incantation to send messages, but not to receive them. As long as my cup was jetting a flame, the messages arrived on their own. Hopefully, Chicory’s cup operated the same wayβ€”in which case, it would just be a matter of igniting the oil crystal.

By the time the plane touched down at Newark International, I was running on unhealthy levels of adrenaline and caffeine and little else. I shouldered my way through the crowds and stood in the taxi line outside.

β€œWhere to?” a cabbie asked when my turn came.

I climbed into his backseat with my pack. β€œGehr Place. Near 495.”

He nodded and shifted his ample bulk as he put the cab in gear and reset the meter. β€œWhere you coming in from?”

β€œEastern Europe.”

He snorted. β€œSurprised you were in a hurry to get back.”

β€œWhat do you mean?”

β€œYou haven’t been following? The city’s a flipping zoo. Last night, we had maniacs running around the streets, climbing buildings, breaking windows. A couple of ’em tried tipping over my taxi on East Fourteenth. Told dispatch I was done for the night. Screw that.”

β€œWho were they?” I asked.

β€œFrom the looks of ’em? Vagrants and junkies. The police eventually rounded them up, but it took all night. Like some kind of frigging Night of the Living Dead. Cost a few officers their lives too.” He shook his balding head. β€œMust be a nasty new drug on the streets.”

Or a nasty new magic, I thought. One I potentially let through.

If Whisperer magic was coming through, it might not have been powerful enough to influence sound mindsβ€”yetβ€”but it looked as if it was worming its way into those already afflicted, dragging them into deeper madness. I thought about the patients in the psych ward Vega had mentioned, Olga’s alcoholic father, and now junkies.

β€œYou’re my last drop of the evening.”

β€œOh, yeah?” I said absently.

β€œGonna return the cab and go straight home to the missus. Bar the doors. No way I’m gonna be out and about with crap like this going on. Not worth it for a few extra bucks, you know?”

I nodded as, with stinging, sleep-deprived eyes, I peered out the windows. We were climbing onto I-78, the setting sun throwing final, long shadows over the interstate. The west-bound lanes were clogged. It looked like the afternoon rush, but it was almost eight p.m.

The cabbie snapped on the radio.

β€œβ€¦mobs and mobs of them,” a woman said in a breathless voice. It sounded as though she was speaking through a telephone. β€œThey’re going block by block, setting fire to anything that’ll light. We’ve got cars on fire, buildings on fire…” She took a sobbing breath. β€œβ€¦people on fire. Me and my husband barely got away. They’re … they’re crazy.”

β€œAw, Christ,” the cabbie said. β€œYou hearing this?”

β€œAre you somewhere safe now?” the male talk show host asked.

β€œYeah, I think so,” the woman replied, not sounding at all certain.

β€œIf you’re just joining us, ladies and gentlemen,” the host said in a grave voice, β€œthe Bronx is burning. I repeat, the Bronx is burning. Roving gangs with no apparent affiliation began setting fire to the south Bronx about an hour ago, and their numbers have only grown despite the arrival of police on the scene. Something similar is happening in Staten Island and east Brooklyn, we’re being told, but the details at this time are sketchy. The mayor has declared a state of emergency and is recommending that those who can safely evacuate the city do so at this time. Everyone else should remain inside with their doors and windows locked.”

I looked over at the lines of bumper-to-bumper cars in the opposite lanes. Even from my distance, I could see the fear and tension on the drivers’ faces, several of them with children in the back seats. I squinted and craned my neck until I could make out a brown haze rising in the north.

β€œEvacuate the city?” the cabbie complained. β€œHow am I gonna do that? My wife weighs five hundred plus. She’s practically bedbound.”

My pager began to go off. Its signal had come back on in the airport in Romania, but no one had sent any pages. I dug into my pocket, pushing past the Ziploc bag of Romanian salt Olga had given me for protection, and found the pager. I pulled it out and checked the number. Vega’s.

β€œHey,” I said, β€œmind making a quick stop so I can make a call?”

β€œYou’re not carrying a phone?” he asked.

β€œNo.”

I thought he was going to offer me his, which I would have had to turn down or risk exploding it, but he sighed and said, β€œI should probably fill up anyway. Let’s make it quick, though, huh?” He turned off the next exit ramp and pulled into a gas station with a payphone.

I ran up to the phone and called.

β€œVega,” she answered.

β€œHey, it’s Everson. What’s going on?”

β€œThat’s what I’d like to know,” she said. β€œAre you back in the States?”

β€œYeah, just got in.”

β€œThe nuttiness I told you about yesterday? It’s gone into overdrive. Mayor Lowder’s been asking about you. He wants to know if there’s something supernatural at work and, if so, what you can do about it.”

β€œI’m hoping I’ll have an answer shortly,” I said.

β€œOne that’ll put an end to this?”

β€œEventually.” I hoped.

Off to my left, stupid laughter filled the inside of a parked Plymouth station wagon, its windows cloudy with smoke. When the skunky smell of pot reached me, I turned the other way and blocked the fumes with my collar.

β€œEventually?” The rawness in Detective Vega’s voice told me she hadn’t gotten

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