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Now

A peculiar thing happens before I manage to find a dress for tonight's art event.

I pad into the hall, drawn by the sound of the keys scratching in the front door keyhole, exactly when Mir walks out of his room, his hand now bandaged. He looks like he wants to say something. But the front door swings open, and Lav gives a small yelp of surprise upon meeting us face to face.

Mir's gaze loses its zeal, reminding me of a star in the night sky that flickers and dies out. He glowers sideways at Laverna and strides past us without a word, disappearing into the living room.

"Angel's shit," Lav groans, watching him go. "Yara, don't tell me I was supposed to keep you company last night." She kicks off her heels. "Sorry, I stayed at the Ninth Circle. One of the waitresses didn't show up, and I owed Nilam, so--"

"Can we talk?"

She glances at me, intrigued, as she heads down the hallway. "Sure."

I haven't seen Laverna's bedroom before, and when she opens the door at the far end of the hall, I'm perplexed to find it so small. Much smaller than the room Mir's given me. Yet, it has a giant window, and the interior is weird--an unfinished sculpture of an angel occupies the center.

"Is something wrong?" Lav looks tired and sounds amicable, and I almost hate to say what I've come to say.

"You lied to me, Laverna. Mir has never dated Polina."

Alarm washes over her face.

"Why?"

After a tentative pause, she sighs. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I just...just..." she drops onto her bed, deflated. "Please, try to understand. When it comes to magic, Mir is obsessed. Do you see the way he's acting now? Ignoring us and everything? He was different, he used to... smile."

He does smile. He did, when he got rid of my bracelets.

"And now all he does is talk about magic and our serial killer and you," she continues, wringing her hands. "I thought if I told you Polina was his girlfriend, it would make things awkward enough for you to dismiss him and his ideas, to keep your distance from him. With everything you know about sorcery and everything he can do...Do you imagine how devastating you two can be? I simply didn't want him to get hurt. With Jasna gone, I can't risk losing Mir too. I can't go back to where I started."

Still lingering in the doorway, I study her from across the room. Watching the emotions rippling Lav's features is like witnessing the ice glazing a river surface crack, split and double until the pieces fall apart, leaving nothing but shards that don't fit the puzzle anymore. As though Laverna, herself, is unsure of her feelings and words.

"You know what it's like, to be nobody, don't you?" Lav prompts. It pains me to admit, but I do know. "For my whole nineteen years, I've been nobody. Laverna Argyros, a girl left at the orphanage at the age of two. But not all of us can sing prayers all day and follow the rules without questions like Polina and Kadri. The High Priestess threw me out when I refused to marry some asshat she chose for me. Yara, do you really believe any of us are here, resurrecting you, because our lives are too good?"

I shake my head once, but Lav doesn't seem to care for my response.

"I was alone in the streets. Mopping floors in other people's houses and washing other people's underwear but never making enough money to at least rent my own place. You were alone once too. How did you manage? The police said they found, like, a bag full of cash at your place after you died."

"I helped steal expensive cars," I say reluctantly. "I used magic."

A hysterical laugh escapes from Lav's chest. "Right. Magic. Well, I had none. I still don't. So I did things for money I'm not proud of." She wipes her lips with the back of her hand and stares at the ruby-red lipstick smudged across her skin. "I'm pretty, don't I? Apparently that pays off. And then I met Jasna, with her whole concept of justice, she believed there was nothing wrong with tricking someone if that someone wanted to trick you. Nothing wrong with stealing from someone if that someone wanted to buy you. It was the first time I really loved my life! I felt in charge."

In charge. Powerful.

"Only for Jasna, it was fun, and for me it was survival. She never introduced me to her brother, her parents, or her well-bred friends. I met Mir only after Jasna and I slipped up once and ended up behind bars, she thought it'd be nice to finally call her lawyer friend."

"Jasna's not dead," I remind her, finally stepping into the room and halting next to the marble angel. I don't know if it's Lav's story, or her stuffy room, or this angel, but I feel uncomfortable here.

"Yeah." Lav gives a sour grunt. "But she looks like a statue dipped in silver and won't wake up until we find the killer."

Tracing my fingers along the marble folds of the angel's cloak, I notice tiny cracks along its white surface, as though the statue was broken and then glued back together.

"Do you like it?" Laverna asks. "It's not finished yet, but I cut it myself."

"How do you cut a stone?"

"Oh, it's not stone, it's wood. Nilam found a piece for me."

Wood? Of course. I once read a legend about an old undead forest of Tyilin, its trees are white like marble and can keep magic inside. The forest part is a myth, but Tyilin trees do exist, though they're rare and the wood is very expensive because it doesn't rot or burn or decay.

My pendant is made of Tyilin--it turns white when absorbs magical energy and blackens when discharged. It took me a while to figure that out when this pendant was given to me.

"The fractures in the statue are on purpose," Lav adds, approaching. "I'll put lights inside once it's finished, and the angel will glow from inside. What do you think? Like it's a living soul, blazing, desperate to tear free.

"It's beautiful." And it really is.

"Thanks." Laverna hesitates, then looks up to meet my gaze, her big hazel eyes moist and shining. "I truly am sorry for lying, but you don't like Mir anyway, do you? And I need him," her hand covers mine still resting on the angel's shoulder. "He lets me sleep under his roof, pays for my food, and never asks for anything in return. He's perfect, Yara. And he's my only chance to have a place in this world."

You talk like he's a prize to win, I want to say and realize I've already told those same words to my sister when she was pining over her fantasies about Vlad. That's it. My sister, that's who Lav reminds me of.

"I won't lie to you ever again." Lav nods, her voice unwavering. "I swear. Ask me anything."

I don't know if it's my imagination or she does expect me to ask something supposedly important. Only one thing pops up in my mind. "What's at Lajariá's basilica tonight?"

Laverna beams. "Oh! You'll need a dress."

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Since I have no bracelets anymore and Mir doesn't ask any questions when Lav and I leave the apartment, I assume he now feels like he can trust me. I only wish he spoke more of his feelings so I wouldn't have to guess where they came from.

Laverna and I take a taxi to the new, fashionable part of the city where skyscrapers line the streets, and the front windows of extravagant restaurants and boutiques glint proudly under the sun.

"Choose anything you like," Lav says, dragging me into a shop brimming with dresses and jewelry.

Glancing at the first label I find, I instantly shove the pearly gown back. "Are you crazy? Everything's worth a fortune here. No way I'm letting Mir pay for this too."

"Relax, nobody's paying. I have a credit card. Once the party's over, we'll return the clothes like sweet little Cinderellas," Lav gives me a sly smile. "Jasna and I have done it a thousand times." And with that, she leaves me, heading toward the dressing room, her hands full of silks and laces.

I should have guessed it was a bad idea yet when asked Laverna for help. I've never had any clue how to choose a garment. And why are there so many? Too long, too short; too baggy, too tight. Too garish--too serious. I've spent an hour trying different colors and fabrics, but it only vexed me further.

Without even looking in the mirror, I yank another skirt off. They all don't feel right, I do not feel right wearing them. With all the beads and pearls and sequins, I look like a Christmas tree. A very costly, luxurious Christmas tree. Perhaps I should have asked Kadri's advice instead.

A strange noise comes from the shop's hall when I pull my sweater back on. I peek from behind the curtain of my dressing room to see if Lav dropped something, and a malevolent hand grabs me by my neck.

"Look who's alive," the voice hisses in my ear.

Dread swells up in my stomach as I stumble backward, thrust into the wall. My arms brush past the dresses, unable to find anything to steady myself, scattering the clothes around.

"You thought you could hide?" A brawny boy stands in front of me, his eyes lit with fury, his fingers squeezing my neck so I can hardly breathe. I struggle to push him away, but my attempts only seem to amuse him. "Where have you been?"

My thoughts spin in panic. I don't recognize his face. He's tall and broad-shouldered, his hair auburn, his jawline prominent. A menacing vein pulses in the middle of his forehead. I frantically search my memories for a similar description, but no one matches it. Maybe he was one of Qing's friends? Or someone Wayra had been stealing cars with before he met me?

"I...don't remember...you," I cough out. I can't even cry for help because his fingers are knotted around my neck, solid as a rock.

Rage dances in his eyes. "Is it so?"

Following my old instincts, I mentally reach out for the magic I no longer possess. I expect the powers to wake up inside me, expect my scar to burn hot, my fear to transform into anger into cold predator's calmness. But I have no scar, no magic, no weapon to fight.

A twisted grin spreads across his face as he leans closer to look into my eyes. "You remember pretty well, my darling. And if you tell anyone about what you remember, I swear to God," he bares his teeth like a wolf, "I'll shoot you dead, I'll--"

I kick him, bringing my knee to his groin with all the strength I have. He groans in pain, his grip on me weakening. And then I kick him again, throwing him off balance. With a comical motion, his foot slips on a dress lying on the floor, getting caught in the layers of fabric. He tumbles to one side, hits his head against the wall, and then crashed down onto the floor with a thud. He goes still.

I freeze, shocked.

He doesn't move.

I don't know what terrifies me more, the fact that he attacked me or that he knocked himself out so conveniently? As if it's a miracle designed to save me.

And what if he's dead?

Swallowing my trepidation, I slowly kneel beside him and put my finger on his neck, feeling for a pulse. He doesn't react, but I find his heart beating confidently under my touch. Alive.

"Yara?" Lav's voice rings outside my dressing room. "Is everything okay? I think I heard someone falling, and...The fuck?" The curtains fly open. Laverna's eyes widen at the unconscious boy at my feet. "Did you--"

I clap my hand over her mouth. "No, I didn't kill him. Please, don't scream." When she nods, I let go of her.

"Who is he?" she whispers, peeking into the hall crowded with other customers. "What do we do?"

I wish I knew. But I have no time to come up with any sensible idea because the boy moans, stirring awake. A bead of cold sweat routes down my back.

"We run."

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