Page 117 of No Charm Done

“Well, my meatsacks, let it be known that entrapment in the Garden of Perpetual Regard will make Vex long for an Angstloch. His screams ring out in seventeen languages.”

“That’s very . . .” Polly started to say, then seemed to think better of it.

“Quite so.” Louise took another sip of her drink, and only then did her attention fix—fully, terribly—on Elias Shaw. “You.” Her voice resonated with harmonics that didn’t exist in normal human speech. “The human male. He who begged for Chicago.”

Every head in the room swiveled toward him. “Well, ma’am . . . yes. I may have, um. Yes. But things have changed. Luna and I⁠—”

Louise tilted her head, her eyes going distant. “I have observed your yearning across ten thousand probabilities. Chicago, 1926. The Before-Time. The hour of your Unmaking.” Louise lifted her improbable drink and took a sip. “You served us with valor. You saved magic entire. Such deeds merit reward.”

“Ah, Louise?” Luna’s voice came out higher than she intended. “Whatever you’re thinking, he doesn’t want to⁠—”

“Time shall grant your longing.”

“No, wait—” Shaw started.

But Louise didn’t wait; time witches never did. She lifted one hand. Delicately, almost casually. And Shaw’s outline began to blur.

“No,” Luna said. “No, Louise, please stop!”

The air was already distorting around Elias, the edges of him becoming indistinct as he was unstitched from the present. Luna lunged for him. Her hands closed on his arms, but her fingers passed through him like he was made of smoke.

“Luna—!” His voice spiraled into static, his eyes locked on hers with absolute terror. “I’m not leaving you— I’m not— I don’t want⁠—”

His last moment: reaching for her, desperate, his hand outstretched even as the rest of him dissolved into impossible light. Then he was gone. Just absence.

The inn was frozen in shock, everyone staring at the space where Shaw had been.

Luna stood with her hands still outstretched, fingers closing on nothing.

Louise took another sip of her Bloody Mary, looking immensely satisfied. “He is home.” But then she paused, dismayed to see so much horror on so many faces. “You should be grateful! The cosmos rarely grants such favors.”

“Bring him back,” Luna heard herself say. Her voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. “Louise. Bring him back right now.”

“He is where he wished to be.”

“He didn’t wish for that anymore! Things have changed.”

Louise waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing changes. Time has granted him mercy.”

“That wasn’t mercy!” Delilah shouted. “That was⁠—”

But Louise was already fading, her form becoming translucent, still holding her cocktail with perfect dignity.

“Ungrateful meatsacks,” she muttered. And vanished.

The silence that followed was absolute.

Luna stood frozen, her hands still outstretched, staring at the empty space where Shaw had been. He’d been right here. Right here. His hand in hers. His warmth beside her. Promising to stay. Agreeing they’d figure it out together. Now there was only empty space.

Scarlett’s arms wrapped around her from behind. Then Delilah’s. Her sisters held her together while she fell apart for the second time in as many days.

But this time, there was no Chuck to pull him back. This time, there would be no last-minute rescue. Shaw was gone, and Luna had no idea how to breathe without him.

* * *

Luna had been sitting on the porch steps for an hour. Knees pulled to her chest, staring at nothing. No sound except for the cicadas and the distant barking of someone’s dog. At least Chuck’s brass band was gone. Something to be grateful for, at least.

The inn behind her had finally emptied out. As people departed, they all stopped to offer her condolences and sympathy. Lots of promises that they’d find a way to fix this, that it would be okay, that Louise could be reasoned with.