“So a vampire went crazy, and then a bunch of humans went crazy?”
Was it contagious? he meant. Were the delusions spreading across the city?
“Vampires did not infect humans,” Ethan said. But there was worry in his eyes. We didn’t know how this had spread—whatever it was. And the only other person we’d seen with delusions had been a vampire in our House.
“Then how did it spread?”
“Maybe it didn’t,” Mallory said, and we all looked at her.
“Delusions aren’t generally contagious, and they don’t have any other symptoms.”
“So what’s the other option?” Pulaski asked.
“They’re telling the truth,” Mallory said. She pushed back the hair that brushed her face, her pale manicure—the same we’d all gotten for the wedding—chipped at the edges. “They’re having the same delusions because they’re hearing the same things. They’re hearing something real.”
Ethan tilted his head. “If the sound—or its origin—is real, why can’t we hear it? Why isn’t everyone affected?”
“I don’t know,” Mallory said. “I think that’s what we have to figure out. And that doesn’t even get to the bigger question.”
“Which is?” Ethan prompted.
She looked at him. “Who is screaming? Who wants so badly to be heard?” She spread her gaze across the city like she was looking for an enemy sail.
“Sorcha?” Ethan asked.
Mallory shook her head. “The wards are intact.”
“And there’s no way for her to get around that?” Ethan asked. “To circumvent it?”
We’d covered this ground before, of course. When the wards were proposed, we’d gone over every detail of the magic, of the wards, of the degree to which they’d give us protection—and fair warning.
“The wards are a circuit. She uses magic, it breaks the circuit, and we hear about it. We haven’t heard about it; ergo . . .”
“It’s not Sorcha,” Ethan concluded.
Mallory nodded. “Besides, she’s an alchemical witch. This doesn’t feel like alchemy.”
Pulaski held up his hand. “I’m not interested in the magical mumbo jumbo. I’ll leave that to you. What I want to know is what, exactly, happened here. In detail.”
“I’ll walk you through it,” Catcher said, and led him a few feet away, pointing at the spot where we’d rounded the corner some unfathomably long time ago.
My grandfather followed them but looked back at us, circled a finger in the air. He wanted us to keep going, to keep talking it through.
“So it’s someone else’s magic?” Ethan asked.
“It has to be,” Mallory said. “I just don’t know whose, or at least not yet. Although there is that weird metallic thing.”
“Yeah,” I said, turning back to Mallory. “I sensed the same thing after seeing Winston. I thought it was because of the delusions. Like, he’d been sick, which gave his magic a weird scent. But maybe it’s a signature of some kind. Is it associated with a certain kind of magic or creature?”
She shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of, but I’ll have to check the books.”
“Paige is out of town,” Ethan said, “or I’d have her look, too.” Paige was a sorceress who practically lived in Cadogan House, mostly owing to her relationship with our Librarian. “The Librarian’s at an ALA conference in New York,” Ethan added. “She’s with him.”
Paige had been bummed about missing the wedding. The Librarian had been too excited about the conference—and the books—to be overly concerned.
“I can look,” Mallory said, glancing at her husband, who stood with my grandfather and Pulaski. “He’s going to be tied up with this for at least the short term.”
“The mayor’s going to blow a fuse,” I agreed.