“Sadly, your mother wasn’t a talented witch, like Angier. She was just a stagehand. She’d seen him do things, so she mimicked those things. But summoning demons? More emotion than skill, I’m afraid. The sad irony of the whole thing is that she never had to do the spell at all.”
“Why would you say that?”
“She’d stolen the grimoire.” Luke shrugged like it was a simple explanation.
“And?”
“Well, a grimoire is a living thing. It was the contract between the demon—in this case Althacazur—and Angier that was passed down through the bloodline. It’s also why Angier wanted no bloodline. The demon gave up some of his magic to Angier in that grimoire. The more heirs you have the weaker you get. You were a legitimate heir—a blood heir. You had possession of the grimoire and you had power. Angier really couldn’t have touched you. Althacazur would have seen your claim to the grimoire.”
“But my mother didn’t know that.”
“So she called on him for a protection spell, by accident.”
“Why’d he do it?”
Luke laughed. “Do you have any idea how many people, right now, are trapped in binding spells… going about their daily lives as though they are the architects of their own fates?”
Sandra didn’t answer.
“Millions.”
“Millions?”
“It’s the business, Sandra. It’s what we demons do. We collect people and tie them to contracts for eternity. It was fun for him—and he collected your mother’s soul in the contract…” His voice trailed.
Finally he continued. “Which all pretty much sums it up. That’s why it has been so unpredictable with you. It’s like trying to cork a genie. When Nora started having recollections of being Juliet, I was stunned. I didn’t know what to do. You weren’t supposed to have those memories so it made my job more complicated. I hear Althacazur thinks it’s terribly funny watching me contain you. You were supposed to just come back a blank slate, grateful for the help. I was just supposed to renew your contract every thirty-four years or so. Simple.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“What are you?”
“You know what I am. I’m soldier—a lesser demon.”
“Sounds awfully close to a major witch.”
“Demons—the big ones like Althacazur—don’t like to deal with humans. Major witches are humans. Lesser demons, like me, do their dirty work. I’m hoping to get my freedom when the curse is done. I can move up or become human again.”
“Luke.”
“Yeah?”
“We’re trapped until the end of time. Exactly when do you think you’re winning your freedom?”
He didn’t say anything.
She saw something in his face. “Wait! There’s a way out of this curse, isn’t there?”
He still didn’t say anything.
“But you can’t tell me.”
“Enough answers for you tonight?”
She kissed him on the forehead, still holding on to his head. “Thank you.” She was so tired of having things that didn’t belong to her. She ran her hand through his hair. The feel of it—of him—was so familiar to her. They didn’t speak. Sandra unbuttoned her blouse halfway and Luke finished, sliding it down her shoulders. In the amber glow from the bathroom light, she studied his face and traced the outline of his lip. He pulled her down toward him and she fumbled at his clothes, pulling his shirt free. In the heat of the desert, she’d learned to slow down and to savor things. As she ran her hands along the smooth skin of his back, she took her time undressing the rest of him, her hands touching every inch of him. When they finally made love, it wasn’t the intense interlude of Luke and Nora, but rather the subtle intimacy between two people who know each other’s bodies and minds so well.
After, Sandra traced the thin patches of hair on his chest and then kissed him, the saltiness of his skin and his reaction both so familiar.
“You were human once?” He laced her fingers in his, and she knew that he was about to share something with her. “So you remember nothing of your life before?”
He shook his head. “What I know is that I killed someone in my real life. I acted against a man in anger for a woman I loved, but in fact she did not love me.”
Sandra studied his face. This was a painful memory for him. “You killed him.”
“I did and it was wrong. And now, this forced—inaction—this is my punishment.”
“For action.”
“For my rash action.”
“So I’m a form of hell?” Sandra ran her hand over the cool sheets. From a distance, somewhere downstairs, she thought she could hear music—an accordion. “Is that Lawrence Welk?”
“I think so.” He laughed. “Marie loves television.”
“Another form of hell.”
“Yeah, that really kills the mood, doesn’t it.” He pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “You’ve always had such beautiful hair.” He touched the strands. “It’s blonder now. You come back and everything is new and you don’t remember a thing about me, but I remember every detail of you. And the worst of it. I have no idea who you’ll be this time. You say Rick is different, well, you’re wildly different each time. This is hell for me.”
“You miss Nora?”
“I do miss her. We were happy. You have her memories, but you aren’t her. I thought so, too. Once, I thought all the versions of you were the same, but the three of you are not the same. Nora’s dead. My Nora is dead. Just like your version of Rick.”
What he said stung, even though he didn’t mean for it to. “I loved him.” She said this because it was true, but also because what he’d said about her not being Nora had hurt her more than she’d thought it would.
He stroked her hair. “All the shit that you’re asking me to tell you. It’s stuff that doesn’t matter. It’s simply the mechanics of this thing. All that matters is the time you are here with me. Nora understood that.”
“But you’re wrong,” said Sandra, touching his face and pulling his chin down so she could see his eyes in the darkness. “Nora didn’t ask questions because she didn’t want the answers. She was afraid of the answers. You know that, Luke.”
“She was happy.”
“You made her happy, that’s true,” said Sandra. “But she never wanted to dig too deeply.”
“I can’t blame her. I won’t blame her for that. She’d had a tough life as Juliet and then Nora.” She could hear something in his voice. Was it jealousy? “Rick made you happy.”
“He did. I know you say that it was impossible for me to be happy with him, but I was.”
For the first time, Sandra felt that Luke wasn’t hiding anything from her anymore, but she also felt something that she hadn’t felt before with him—he was disappointed in this version of her. He’d loved Nora, and sadly Sandra hadn’t come back exactly as she’d left him. They were like a couple who’d been married a long time—they loved each other deeply, but they knew the limits of each other—having etched those places through regret, sorrow, mistakes, and time.