Jer was dead. His father had evidently escaped, and his brother . . . who knew where Eli had gone, in the grasp of that enormous bird? Now the members of Jer’s circle, together with Holly’s, had come to empty ashes into Eliott Bay. They had no idea if they were his ashes; the entire theater had been destroyed. A town scandal had erupted because the sprinklers never went off, and innocent heads would no doubt roll, but Holly could do nothing about that. Holly wept. The gulls sobbed and wheeled, and the others—including the members of Jer’s Rebel Coven—kept a respectful distance. I am still bound to him, she thought. As Isabeau was to Jean. She was doomed to walk the earth until she killed him, and I’m doomed to grieve my whole life. . . . She broke down, completely losing it, until strong arms grabbed her shoulders. It was Tante Cecile. “Cry, and then carry on,” the woman said. “Magics are still at work. I was prevented from getting here in time to help by magic. And I can feel magic everywhere.
