Early morning sun lit up the ruined apothecary windows, but inside was still a dim gray. Drusus floated himself and Lucy to the floor. "This is where I've been hiding," said Lucy.
"Why?" Drusus peered around. "You said something about a scroll. There's nothing here."
Lucy knelt on the floor and smoothed the scroll out. "Here," she said. "This is the way I might not have to fight Ra." She picked it up. "Can you see it now?"
Drusus leaned over it. "Where did this come from?"
"There is library behind the shelves. Go take a look."
Drusus disappeared behind the stone wall. "There's nothing here, Lucy," he called back.
"I think it's visible only by special invitation." Lucy studied her translation. Could she make Drusus understand? "You can't see it? I thought you might be able to. Carlo couldn't see it either."
"Carlo?"
"He saved me." Lucy stood. Should she tell him or not? "I fell into the canal and he pulled me out."
"You fell into the canal?"
"I... yes. That's right." She knelt and smoothed the scroll again. Changing the subject might be best. "This scroll details a ceremony which will separate a demon from a Binder." She glanced back to the ruined shop and the circle of books around the tuffet, plucked a large volume from among them, and motioned to Drusus. "Come see."
Drusus crouched next to the scroll. "I don't recognize the characters."
"Demotic," said Lucy. "Napoleon's soldiers were kind enough to make this dictionary after they discovered the Rosetta Stone." She pointed to the French names on an inside page of the guide.
"You understand this?"
"Yes. Hieroglyphs are plentiful in the family histories. This middle language I can guess at. It's close to hieroglyphics, so I can make out the content of this scroll. I know French, so reading the dictionary was easy." Lucy drew in the dust with a finger. "I don't claim my translation is grammatical, but I believe I have the shape of it."
"When did you translate this?"
"Last night."
"Amazing." He glanced from Lucy to the scroll. "Octavia is sure you're the weakest magician in your family. You can do something like this overnight, having never seen a language?"
Lucy's cheeks tinted blue. "Carlo can learn a language just by hearing it."
"Lucy, it's unseemly for you to call someone I don't know by their first name. I can't approve."
Lucy smiled. "You wouldn't approve at all. He's Venetian. I like him. He feels familiar." Lucy took a deep breath. "Drusus, I intend to use this scroll to separate Ra and myself."
"It can't be that easy," said Drusus.
"This scroll was written by the goddess Isis, or so it claims. Isis intended to use this scroll to trick her Binder into separating from her, and it is only good for one time."
"Isis is a demon? Like Ra?"
"Yes." Lucy paused, tongue in cheek. "No." She watched Ra land on the dome. "I believe Isis and Ra are deposed gods, or what people thought were gods. King Solomon banished them to the Abyss."
"You want to set Ra free?"
"Yes." She studied her feet. "Don't you suppose it is our moral imperative? Not to keep someone a prisoner against their will?"
"Ra would keep you a prisoner if what Octavia says is to be believed."
"Maybe. But I am not Ra."
"How did Carlo come by this scroll?"
"He didn't," Paolo Borgia called down from a window. Carlo, wrapped in his cloak, stood by his side. "Who is this, Miss Lucia?"
Drusus' brow furrowed. "Sir," he said, "I have not had the pleasure."
"This young lady is under my protection." Paolo scrambled down the rope.
Drusus stepped in front of Lucy. "I believe not."
"Miss Lucia is very popular then."
"My apologies," said the boy from the ledge. "My grandfather can be outspoken."
Lucy touched Drusus' arm lightly. "Mr. Borgia and his grandson, Carlo." She glanced up at Carlo. "Something's happened?"
"No." Carlo was pale.
Lucy frowned. She sensed something sharp hurt him, pierced him. He was jagged, like Ra felt.
Lucy inserted herself into the space between Drusus and Paolo. "May I present my sister's husband, Drusus Claudian?"
Paolo appraised him. "I have heard of Octavia. In Venice, we keep our women in line."
"I beg your pardon, sir?"
"One woman in your care goes around jumping in canals and has to be rescued. The other sends demons after my grandson. One would wonder what you are doing with yourself in Venice."
Drusus straightened. "Are you questioning—"
"I am willing to help Miss Lucia, but after, I want nothing more to do with your family. You are too reckless. Your wife, making my grandson a puppet."
Lucy glanced at Carlo, who shook his head. "Did Octavia do something to you?"
"It's not important right now," said Carlo.
"Your name is Borgia," said Drusus.
Paolo bowed, short, curt, almost contemptuous. "At your service."
"Yes," said Drusus. "Your reputation has preceded you. We thought your family was gone."
"Venice hides many secrets. Libraries, scrolls, families." Paolo's hands spread across the room. "Your reputation. A Claudian. Reputed for their honesty or their villainy. You come in extremes. Your family's scheming has, in the past, rivaled my own family. For example, are you not a relative of the sorceress Livia, whom some say shaped the affairs of the Roman Empire using Octavian Caesar as her puppet? She was a poisoner of some renown. Admirable."
"You have no right to lecture anyone about poison."
Carlo moved to Lucy. "They could be at this for some time."
"What is wrong with you?" Lucy fingers skimmed Carlo's arm.
"Leave it."
"I can't. If Octavia hurt you, I am to blame."
Carlo shook his head. "Whatever happened has nothing to do with you."
Paolo tapped his chin. "We cannot judge an entire family on the actions of their ancestors. You are here to take the girl home?"
Drusus gave Paolo a once-over like he was a specimen. "Sir. I do not believe our business is any of yours."
"It's not, save the scroll you are looking at is mine. Miss Lucia, it sounds like you have understood its purpose?"
"Yes."
"You wish to perform this ceremony?"
"Yes."
Paolo smiled. "I can be of some help then."
Drusus shook his head. "What I know about your family's reputation. You are schemers through and through. What do you want from Lucy?"
Carlo stepped forward. "Enough, both of you. Either you want to help Lucy or you want to argue. If you want to argue, Lucy and I will work this magic ourselves."
Carlo did not wither in Drusus' gaze, which Lucy thought showed some backbone.
"You should stay out of this," said Drusus.
"I can't. I'm responsible for Lucy. I saved her."
"For which I am grateful. Binders are dangerous, as you know. Freeing Ra is dangerous. Lucy and I have made other plans."
"I understand Octavia plans to kill Lucy when Ra wins." Carlo crossed his arms. "Is this your other plan?"
Drusus spoke through clenched teeth. "It is not."
"Why not prevent the battle at all?" Paolo rubbed his stubbly chin. "I can see merit to the Trial or using the Isis Scroll, either way."
"You haven't answered my question," said Drusus. "What do you stand to gain?"
"Like you, I am concerned for my family."
"Lucy dissolves her bond to Ra." Drusus glanced at Lucy. "What happens then?"
"He returns to the Abyss," said Paolo. "No demon exists on this plane without a host."
That is true. Ra's sharp voice stabbed Lucy. I need you, Lucia.
"At what cost to her?" Drusus said, looking at Paolo.
"No cost at all." Paolo plucked the dictionary from Lucy and slammed it shut, liberating dust.
Lucy cleared her throat. "I believe this is the only way to keep Ra from mastering me. I am unable to best him."
Drusus touched Lucy's arm. How could he care so much? She wasn't used to all this attention directed at her. "You know I will help you."
Lucy bit her lip. "I have no faith in my abilities. Drusus, you barely know me. You are courageous, but I need someone who cares about me, not in the way you protect me, but someone who believes I can win. You don't think I can, not without your help."
Drusus said nothing.
"We must do this soon," said Lucy. "If you found me, how long can it be before Octavia does? My family believes in form and tradition, regardless of whether those traditions are just or not."
"I think using this scroll is a terrible idea," said Drusus. "I agree you should free yourself from Ra, but you cannot trust this man."
Paolo straightened. "Mr. Claudian, Miss Lucia knows she dies if the demon fights her, one way or the other. Should she not avoid death altogether?"
"She knows no such thing," said Drusus. "I will help her at her Trial. She's stronger than she looks."
"She's right here," said Carlo. "She can voice her own opinion. We don't have to speak about her like she's not here."
"Carlo," said Lucy. "Maybe you could be my Anchor."
Carlo's eyebrows lifted. "What are you saying?"
"I mean"—Lucy stammered—"you seem to believe in me, although I cannot for the life of me see why."
"I can't."
"But you saved me."
"I will help you in any way I can," said Carlo. "I don't trust myself to be anyone's Anchor."
Lucy cheeks were hot. "Drusus." Her voice was shaky as she began. "I think Solomon wronged Ra, that we've wronged all the demons, or gods, or whatever we call them. By entering into this agreement around the Scroll of Solomon, Erasmus made us oppressors. The ceremony doesn't only solve my problem, but it rights a wrong. Ra shouldn't have to fight me any more than I should him. I can't do anything about his imprisonment in the Abyss, but I refuse to be imprisoned or to imprison, which is the only outcome of the Trial. Please. Let's at least try this."
Drusus' voice softened. "Is this what you want? Even with my offer to be your Anchor?"
"You are the last person I would want to put in danger. I won't allow you to be my Anchor."
Drusus clenched his fists. Lucy held her breath.
"Let's try this." Paolo smiled like a crocodile. "Claudian, you will be there during the ritual and you will watch every move I make. You will oversee everything. You let her try. If it doesn't work, what have you lost? You can have her Trial. This is the only way she has a chance."
We must kill him.
Lucy did not know whether Ra meant Paolo or Drusus. She furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head.
Carlo nodded. "Don't worry. I cannot be your Anchor, but I will make sure nothing happens to you."
Drusus blew out a breath. "We will try your scheme, Borgia. I don't like it, but we will try. I warn you, if anything happens—"
"I will think all the threats you would issue to me and save you the trouble of vocalization. Nothing I have not heard before. Given our time shortage, I say we get right to it. There are a few things we will need to make a magic circle. With my connections in the city, we should have the materials in no time at all."
Drusus turned in a circle. "The space does look adequate."
"I worry about the ambient magic from the library," said Lucy.
"We can't do this here," said Carlo. "Octavia knows we are here."
"How?" asked Drusus.
"I told her—she made me," said Carlo.
"She controlled you," said Lucy. "You are part demon. I suspected when Ra could command you; when I felt comfortable around you."
Carlo squeezed his fists hard. "She can't anymore. That's what matters. She is on her way here. We should make her have to work to find us, to give ourselves a better chance to complete this ritual."
Paolo rubbed his chin. "Yes, well, this isn't the right place for magic in Venice. Sand and light, these are not Venice's elements. Water is the strongest element in this city."
Drusus looked at Paolo sidelong. "We should hold the ritual in a canal?"
Paolo laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. We should hold it in the swamp."
***
After a brief scramble for the necessary components, Carlo, Lucy, and Paolo rowed the leaky boat outside the city. Drusus hovered nearby until they were out of the city proper, then scouted ahead.
Lucy bailed water from the boat as Carlo rowed. She wasn't certain what Paolo's criteria were for a suitable place to cast magic. Every bit of the swamp and grassy land outside Venice looked as desolate as every other piece of it. Waterfowl glided in the puddles among the grass with placid grace. The fall winds rippled the water with chilly breath and grasses bent in a rhythm, which flowed with the city. There was a green, muddy smell to everything, but Lucy found they were never too far from the city's rotting stench. The sky was its usual dull gray. Lucy was certain the heavens would open up on them and they would drown above and below.
"Why here?" Carlo asked. He tied the boat to a tenacious clump of reeds.
"This is the most solid part." Paolo ambled out from the boat. "Be careful, Miss Lucia. Even though this part is safe, it is still soupy."
Drusus landed nearby, frowning as he sank into the mud. "These shoes will never be the same."
"Why don't you hover?" said Carlo.
Drusus frowned. Lucy thought it was funny. She stepped into the muck.
Paolo tapped Carlo on the shoulder. "You come with me. We'll start laying the circle over there. You two, start here. Be quick about it." The Borgias slogged their way across the spongy ground.
Lucy was up to her calves in mud. Ra swept in and waterfowl panicked away, huddling onto small islands, floating in the water. Acqua alta rain returned with a vengeance, leaving them drenched. Should she survive this, one thing she looked forward to was being dry. She hadn't felt warm since Firenze.
She understood about Carlo now. How he felt familiar, the comfort she had with him, the familiar feeling of shadow. While Lucy had never been comfortable in her own home, the shadows were more comfort than her family. Carlo was like the quiet shadows. Octavia had taken him, and Lucy was angry with her for controlling him. Drusus made it clear Octavia was coming to kill her. Lucy did not care so much about herself, but how dare Octavia control Carlo! He was a good, noble man, even if he was also a demon. The ground sucked at boots and skirts, and the rain dampened her spirits. Ra soared overhead, back and forth, as though he were anxious and pacing.
Lucy sprinkled the titania Drusus had brought with him, watching it soak into the water. She didn't see how anyone would be protected. There was no circle with the soggy ground dissolving the powder. She knew in the end, it would be her and Ra, and no circle. Ra would return to the Abyss after she severed him. Once the ceremony began, he would fight her in earnest to keep from going back. She wondered why he wasn't trying to stop her now. She guessed Ra didn't believe she could get rid of him. Then, at the Trial, he would Bind her.
She wouldn't let him. She would win. She had to.
Afterward, she would find a way to free the gods. She didn't have the right powers, but she also knew the situation was wrong. Octavia wouldn't care. She wouldn't understand, but Lucy would have to make her. Binder magic was slavery for both Binders and demons. Magic shouldn't be used to hold anything against its wishes.
Drusus closed his part of their attempted circle and stood by her. She had never seen Drusus like this before. His jacket and gloves were discarded, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Water beads glistened off the olive-colored skin at his neck and forearms and his shirt clung to his body. She was conscious of her height, of the paraffin color of a Binder's skin, how unworthy she was of his trust. His mistake had been being nice to her, being interested in her, then showing up to save her. How could she not find him irresistible? She had always been interested, but she never dreamed he cared. Volunteering to be her Anchor made him very special.
She wanted to step away from him, but she stayed.
"Just so you are aware," said Lucy, "I doubt this circle will work at all."
"Maybe it will," said Drusus. "Earth isn't the only powerful element. As Borgia said, in Venice, water is everything."
"Maybe." Lucy felt her cheeks heat up. "I wish you would go back to Octavia."
"What?"
"I don't want anything to happen to you."
"You have that backward," said Drusus. "I won't let anything happen to you." He smoothed his hair back.
An ache twisted in her chest. So beautiful, his full lips, his piercing eyes.
"You don't know Octavia like I do, Lucy. She'll come for you. She wants you to have this Trial with Ra and this circumvents it," he said.
"Why?" said Lucy. "If she knows I will lose?"
"She wants to make sure you lose," said Drusus.
"You're wrong. She wants to save me. I want to save her from having to kill me." She tried to pull a foot from the ground and found her boot was stuck. She shook her head. "How can I cast magic when I can't even move?"
"Let me." Drusus put an arm around her waist and hoisted her into his arms. His smell made her feel what she imagined drunkenness must be like. His warm eyes melted her. "There," he said. "Now, where do I put you down?"
Never put me down, Lucy thought. Before she knew what she was doing, she leaned in and kissed him, her lips brushing his cheek.
Drusus blinked at her. She had never noticed how long his eyelashes were. He pulled her closer and she kissed him again, just a touch. He smiled. "You're a sweet child."
His warm eyes woke her from her dream and she shook herself. "Put me down, Drusus."
"Let me find somewhere less wet."
"Put me down."
Drusus moved her to what she thought might be a more solid clump of grass.
She had kissed him. A small, innocent kiss, he thought. Like a child's.
Ra crossed the sky. You show more and more promise. Shame stabbed her.
"I have taken advantage of you," Lucy stammered.
"It wasn't that kind of kiss, Lucy."
She ducked her head. "I know." Lucy shielded her eyes with her hands and watched Ra circling overhead. "Leave me alone. Please."
"I'm not leaving you alone."
"I need you to leave me alone."
"Lucy," he said. "I'm sorry. Did you mean—"
"No," she said. "I want to concentrate, to prepare." All these things she said in a rush, like she could chase him away with her voice. "Talk to Paolo and Carlo about the circle." Anything. Just get him away.
Drusus rubbed his eyes. "I am sorry."
"Please."
"You're making too much of this," Drusus said. He slogged away, his jaw set, his eyes stormy.
Lucy hopscotched from mud mound to mud mound, working her way to the circle's center. Once she freed Ra, she could never return to Octavia and Drusus. She had always known how she felt, but the line she had just crossed left her no doubt she could only cause pain there.
Or worse, they would ignore her like Drusus just had. They would keep her a child. Lucy didn't know what she would do after Ra.
Then she did know — Carlo. He was her friend. He felt responsible for her and she felt comfortable with him. For her future, life with Carlo was as good an idea as any she'd had.
She laughed. Lucy Klaereon considering life after fighting Ra. She had changed.
She needed to stay away from Drusus. She could not betray Octavia, no matter how dangerous Octavia was. Octavia needed Drusus. What would happen to her without him?
***
Balthazar, the efrit, was a red mountain. Family rumor said he was thousands of years old. Octavia's first reaction upon seeing him was to cry, tears trembling down her face as he led her deep beneath Erasmus' Temple. She entered the chamber of the angel alone. The giant angel filled the sky with her wings, formed from stars black on white in a negative of the universe. The angel wept and Octavia wept, and neither could do anything, both mirroring each other's despair.
When she was with the angel, there was silence. Octavia's fondest wish had come true. No one was telling her what to do. Not her father, not Khun, not Ra. What should she do? It was her decision, and without anyone's guidance, she was paralyzed.
Octavia crossed the desert to Erasmus' Temple outside of Alexandria. The stones, blazing hot in the sun, were now cold like winter's kiss. Sand covered the tomb, but Balthazar and the angel he guarded had been waiting for her as they'd waited for countless Klaereons who'd made this journey. Contrary to popular belief, the demon was not the Binder's curse. Each Binder had to face their own flaws, their own nature, and this would change once the Trial was over.
Khun told Octavia what she would see, and fear of the giant angel had consumed her, growing with every step as she moved across the desert, across the wadis in the sun. Khun was gone, her enemy now, and this was a journey she had to take alone to Bind him, to make Khun hers to command, like Neith belonged to her father.
Octavia shook as she looked at the angel, larger than the world, than everything combined. She knew the words from the Trial. The feathers of a fallen angel were used to Bind the demon in darkness. She had to ask for them.
The angel's skin shimmered, her hair aflame with lights like the Aurora Borealis, shifting from one color to the next. Music sounded when she opened her mouth. Octavia averted her gaze. She had nothing to say. The being looked right through her and saw all the ways in which she was imperfect. Octavia said nothing. She knew her weakness. She didn't want to believe her father was wrong, but she was not destined to be the heir of the family. She wasn't special. Ra didn't want her. She was ordinary. If she fought Khun and won, there was no duty to tie her to the family. Lucy was destined to take on that responsibility.
But she was special. Ra did want her over Lucy. She hated the idea that she had been overlooked and Lucy had drawn Ra's attention. Fighting Khun did not frighten her half so much as looking at this angel who wanted to bleach what she was away, what her father had always told her about her destiny.
The silence was deafening.
The angel opened her massive hand. The idea, Octavia had known from Khun, was for her to step into the hand and look the angel in the eye. Caius had been dropped by the angel, which is why he leaned on his walking stick. She saw no reason why the angel should not throw her away.
"Trust her," said Balthazar, before she had entered the chamber. "Go to her."
Octavia needed no more help. Caius had told her what to do: kill Lucy and take the scroll. Ra told her what to do: take the scroll and be powerful, more powerful than she could imagine. Khun told her what to do: stay with him. What would the angel want? So many voices chased her. The silence could not last.
"No," said Octavia. She covered her ears. "Give me the feathers so I can leave this place."
Octavia stepped back from the hand. The angel snatched her into her fist and held her up to one shiny eye. In her eye, Octavia saw reflected stars, heavens, universes, dark places. She saw herself and she reached for her reflection, but it was too late to pluck the reflection from the black stars.
The angel placed her back on the ground with care. Octavia wondered what the angel had seen. Pinfeathers from under the angel's wings floated to the stone floor, downy like snowflakes. The angel turned her back on Octavia, her feathers now gray and mottled. She stepped outside and dropped the feathers onto the floor. Balthazar retrieved them.
Grim Balthazar forced the pinfeathers into Octavia's hands and led her outside the chamber, past the pedestal, which used to hold Solomon's Scroll and the broken bones of the defeated, who tried to take it before Erasmus, now dust on the stone floor. Octavia wished her father were here to tell her she was still perfect, still special.
"Your Trial," boomed Balthazar, "will not go easily. You lack the will to fight, to make your stand. She has no faith in you."
"What do you know?" said Octavia. "Khun likes me. He would not let me lose."
Balthazar said nothing.
"I have them," said Octavia. "The feathers of a fallen angel. I'm ready."
"The road before you is paved with lies," said Balthazar. "Proceed cautiously."
"You don't think I can win. I will win!"
Balthazar gazed into the sun. Her father had told her the efrit would be like this. Balthazar predicted Caius would not win, but he had, and he had Solomon's Scroll now. Balthazar was not to be heeded at all, an ancient in the desert who knew nothing of the nineteenth century and its demands.