---

The Liar

by Darcie Little Badger

The Mysterious Woman

Jodie sat in a bench-filled lounge outside the Dominion Casino poker room. It was 6:18 p.m., and she’d been waiting for a table since 5:30. A 32-inch flat-screen TV on the wall displayed the standby list and indicated she was up next, along with four others identified as Pete M., Joe T., Olav A., and Bartholomew S.

Lowering her phone, she wondered if the sweaty, pink-faced man sitting next to her was Joe, Olav, or Bart. There were a dozen people in the room, but he was the most visibly nervous, his right leg bouncing.

“Howdy,” he said, noticing Jodie’s attention.

“Afternoon. What’s your name?”

“Pete.” He jabbed a thumb at the waitlist screen. “That Pete.”

“Call me Jodie.”

He ducked his head sheepishly. “Guess we’re playing against each other. You any good at this game? My cousin says Texas Hold ’em is the easiest kind of poker…”

“Is that so?” Perhaps her first impression of Pete had been premature. Either he was the most naïve gambler in Vegas, or he’d just over-played his “nervous newbie” act. She’d wager on the latter.

“Standby, your table is ready,” an announcer called, his voice crackling through overhead speakers.

“That’s us,” Pete said, rising.

As they strolled side by side to the felt-topped poker table, Jodie’s phone, which was securely zipped in her black fanny pack, dinged twice. She’d check her messages after the game; it wouldn’t be long. The other poker players, ranging in age from their mid-thirties to fifties, already sat around the oval table. Two wore sunglasses; all wore button-downs. As Jodie took her place beside Pete, she declared, “Y’all, wish me luck. My hands are always terrible.”

---

Two hours later and five hundred dollars richer, Jodie slid onto a leather-upholstered bar stool in the Roman’s Another Day bar, ordered a ginger ale (she had to drive home later), and turned on her phone. There were ten missed messages, all from a group labeled “Coven,” a nod to their powers. Jodie had connected with the coven online; everyone had similar stories of the Mysterious Woman. They didn’t use real names and avoided identifying information, like hometowns or jobs, but Jodie considered them her friends.

Adelle: Has anyone talked to AJ recently?

Chloe: Last Friday.

Adelle: Me too. I’m worried. It’s been days.

Chloe: Maybe he’s on vacation???

Adelle: No. AJ would have told me.

Then, Jodie noticed that she had a new private message from Adelle.

Adelle: Hi, Jodie. Do you live in the western US?

As Jodie jotted out a response—Why do you ask?—the smell of cigarettes and not-too-bad cologne announced the return of Pete, who thumped onto the seat beside her. “Hey, card shark,” he said. Then, to the bartender, “Whiskey, please.” At least he’d dropped the fish-out-of-water act. Feigning inexperience hadn’t helped him during the poker game. Not against her, anyway.

Jodie slid a ten to the bartender. “I’ll cover his drink.” It was only fair, considering she’d won all his chips.

With a bashful chuckle, Pete said, “Thanks.”

“Just so you know, I have an appointment in ten minutes,” she lied. “I can’t stay and chat.”

“That’s fine.” He absentmindedly scratched at a pale Band-Aid on his upper arm. “I just had one question.”

“What’s that?”

He leaned closer, lowered his voice. “Are you the fanny-pack-wearing Cherokee girl who won big at the MGM last week?”

Actually, she was Apache (and 30 years old), but Jodie couldn’t tell him that.

“Maybe.” She twirled her soda, annoyed. She hadn’t meant to win big; it just kinda happened. Now, she had a reputation. That meant it was time to move.

“What’s your secret?” Pete asked.

“Really want to know?”

“Yes.” He hadn’t sounded so earnest all night. When the bartender placed a glass of whiskey in front of Pete, it remained unacknowledged.

“I once defeated a mysterious woman in a game of Uno,” Jodie explained, “and she gave me a magical boon.”

Pete groaned. “A what?”

“It’s like a superpower.”

“Respectfully, if you had more than ten minutes, I’d be happy to trade fairy tales—”

“Just listen. It’s important that you hear the story.”

He sobered up quickly. “Go on, then.”

“We’d been playing for petty cash. Me, Mysterious Woman, and my cousins. When I won, she said, ‘You can take my money or accept a gift. It would be a great skill for a woman like you: Shake my hand, and people will believe all your lies.’”

“What did she mean by ‘a woman like you’?” Pete asked.

“Who knows? I was just twenty, working at the grocery store to pay for college, majoring in math ’cause I have a knack for numbers. I wasn’t—” She gestured to herself, to the bar, as if inviting Pete to infer the woman she’d become based on the place she drank. “I was really shy, too. My cousins—two punks from Santa Fe, always decked out in beadwork and spikes—met Mysterious Woman at a concert, and I don’t know why she chose me instead of them. I shook her hand, ’cause I didn’t want to cause trouble over twenty dollars. Plus, isn’t magic make-believe?

“Should have trusted my gut, taken her money instead. There was something off about her. Ethereal. Powerful. Mysterious Woman’s long hair resembled a million strands of Vantablack-painted silk. She spoke with an accent, but I couldn’t place it, and her eyes… like the Mona Lisa, she always seemed to be looking at me, even when she wasn’t.”

“What are you complaining about? I’d pay millions for a super-power like that,” he joked.

“Well, there was a catch.” Jodie’s phone dinged, and she glanced at the message on her screen.

Adelle: If you do, can you check on AJ? He lives in LA. I’m really worried, especially after what happened to North last month.

LA was a four-hour drive: not terrible, given the size of the western US, but…

“First, boons can be given or stolen. If you ever meet somebody with more than one boon, chances are, they’ve killed lots of people like me.”

Pete chuckled; she didn’t hold it against him. It’s not like he believed her.

“And second, every boon comes with a curse,” Jodie continued, simultaneously messaging Adelle: Call in 30 mins. And she provided the number of her burner phone, purchased for emergencies only.

“What’s yours?” Pete encouraged.

“When I tell the truth, nobody believes me.”

“That’s not so bad…”

“It is if you want to be a mathematician.” Jodie stood, finished her soda with an audible gulp, and buttoned up her jean jacket.

“Wait! C’mon, Miss Jodie. I listened to your story like a good sport. Won’t you give me a hint? How do you really win?”

Gently, she smiled. “Who can say?”

“You?”

“Afraid not. This conversation has only been a dream.” There was a coral-red smudge of lipstick on her empty glass of ginger ale; perhaps it would confuse him after she left. “You never really met me, Pete.”

---

What Happened to North One Month Ago

North: GUYS IM SCREWED

North: MY GIFT IS GONE

North: Last night when I came home from pub there was a person in my house dressed in black like an actual burglar and when I tried to run they grabbed my arm and I couldn’t break free not even by fighting. It was like hitting a rock. They threw me against the wall and told me to calm down because they just wanted my gift which made me fight more but it didn’t help. There was a rumble and I couldn’t breathe and I passed out and when I woke up just now the intruder was gone but I can’t sing with five voices anymore.

Jodie: What about the curse? Did your attacker take it, too?

North: Let me check.

North: Damn. No. Applause still gives me hives.

Adelle: I’m so sorry.

North: What am I supposed to do? I got a show tonight.

Chloe: You still have a LOVELY voice.

North: Thanks, but it’s not enough.

Adelle: Can we help?

North: Stay away. I don’t know how the attacker found me. You could be next.

North: At least Im alive.

AJ: This is why we keep a low profile.

North: What are you implying?

AJ: Nothing!

North: Fuck off. I’ve been singing for 10 years. NEVER got accused of magic. Autotune yeah but NEVER magic.

North: Its this GROUP.

North: Were you the one who attacked me, AJ?

Chloe: Please don’t fight.

AJ: I’d never hurt you, man. Calm down.

<North has left the group>

---

The Immortal Man

By the time Adelle called, Jodie was driving up I-15. She lowered the radio to a white-noise murmur of soft rock and transferred the call to speakers. A Dolly Parton soundalike asked, “Jodie? You there?”

“What’s up, Adelle?”

This was the first time she’d spoken to a member of the coven. The others would chat among themselves, but texts gave Jodie more time to be deliberate about phrasing. Adelle’s surgery voice fit her well, based on everything Jodie knew about her friend, a 30-something-year-old former nurse with three young sons who lived with their father. Adelle’s curse was too dangerous for a house full of children. Her right hand carried the boon of healing. Her left hand, the curse of death. The greater the boon, the greater the curse, but Adelle never complained. Her eldest son, Felix, had a painful hereditary disorder. But he no longer suffered, not like he used to. The magic was a salve.

“I know AJ’s address,” Adelle replied. “I’ve visited his house.”

“When?”

“Most recently, a month ago.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be anonymous?” Jodie drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.

“AJ broke his foot last year, remember? With a curse like his…”

“Ah. You went there to heal him?”

“At first, that’s why I always visited. To heal. But lately…” Her voice tightened with emotion. “We love each other. That’s why I’m scared. AJ never ignores my calls. Not like this. He could be in the hospital. Or…”

“Or something worse?” Thinking of the attack on North, a bitterly paranoid side of Jodie wondered: Am I being lured somewhere? After all, AJ went missing after he shared his address with Adelle.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t want to lie to me,” Jodie said, realizing too late that she didn’t know what Adelle wanted, which meant the statement was just a guess and therefore had no power. Luckily, Jodie hadn’t disclosed her boon to the coven. She could try a different tactic, undetected. “Just warning ya that I know when people are being deceptive, ’cause I used to administer lie detector tests for the FBI.”

“Honest to God, hon!” Adelle exclaimed. “I’m just worried about AJ. Sorry. I know why you’re cautious. This was a lot to ask. Don’t give it a second thought. I’ll fly to Los Angeles on Sunday—”

Sunday was two days away.

“What’s AJ’s address?” Jodie interrupted. “I’ll check tomorrow evening.” A lie. She’d drive there now. Four hours to LA, ample cash to cover the hotel. She’d visit AJ’s house at dawn, no doubt after a sleepless night lying in a strange bed, worrying, wondering what she’d find.

---

AJ lived in a neighborhood of sardine-packed houses. There were two unbroken lines of cars parked on either side of the street, reducing the driving width to a single lane. The taxi stopped alongside a white house surrounded by a wire fence; impatient traffic honked as Jodie paid her bill and climbed out of the back seat with a quick “Thanks.” It was 7:30 a.m., clear-skied, and already warm. She wore a cloth face mask and a Yankees baseball cap to hide from security cameras. Although Jodie didn’t plan to cause a scene, situations like these, with so many unknowns, defied planning.

According to AJ, he met Mysterious Woman at a bar: not a dive or a pickup hotspot, just a run-of-the-mill place where people congregated after work to drink and watch football together. He struck up a conversation with (in AJ’s words) “the most striking woman in the room, in every room, or so I thought.” He was curious, but Mysterious Woman deflected his questions with her own. By last call, she knew AJ’s life story, and—according to AJ every time he recounted the night—she’d only become more mysterious.

“She asked me: If I could have one superpower, what would it be? I said: never age. Then, she asked, ‘What if the power had a side effect, and every injury caused ten times the pain?’ At the time, I was just twenty-nine and hadn’t broken a single bone. She promised I’d never get cancer. There’d be no wrinkles, no deteriorating heart. Only other things or people could harm me. Seemed like a fair trade, especially hypothetically. Plus, heart disease runs in my family.”

“Was it a fair trade, though?” Jodie thought as she unlatched AJ’s gate and noticed that there were no-slip pads on the steps to his front door and memory foam padding on the railing around his porch. AJ always seemed chipper, but Jodie knew full well that behavior could be deceiving.

Jodie pressed the off-white doorbell, and when nobody answered, she knocked twice and called, “AJ? You there?”

Patiently, she counted the seconds. At ten, Jodie shouted, “Hey, buddy, wake up!”

The only response came from the neighbor’s open side window, “Can you keep it down?”

“Sorry!” Turning, Jodie faced her critic. The groggy-looking twenty-something woman wore a white terry bathrobe, which she clasped shut with one hand. “I feel awful for disturbing you,” Jodie said. “Have you seen the man who lives here? I’m his cousin, and my family’s really worried. We can’t reach him by phone.”

The woman’s scowl softened. “Um, not recently, but I’m usually at work.”

“Thanks. No worries.” Jodie jogged to AJ’s mailbox, flipped it open, and mentally reeled when she saw a dense pile of envelopes, a week’s worth of unopened mail.

From her elevated vantage point, the bathrobe woman suggested, “Try his back door.”

“Okay.” There were white gardenias in the narrow alley of land connecting AJ’s front yard to his backyard. Jodie, by hopping and weaving, didn’t crush any flowers underfoot. Two large, curtained windows overlooked the fence-enclosed patch of yellow grass behind AJ’s house, and between the windows was a yellow wooden door. As she stepped closer, Jodie heard a plink, plink, plink sound, similar to the rhythm of a moth enamored of a light bulb. Plink, plink, plink. Dozens of fat black flies were trapped between the curtain and glass pane of the left-hand window. Plink, plink, plink. Some crawled in aimless loops, while others kept trying to escape the house and whatever else was trapped within its walls.

“AJ,” Jodie whispered, even though she’d meant to shout. And then, she turned the doorknob. The door opened a few inches, catching on a chain lock. A strip of light fell into the kitchen, and Jodie leaned forward, wide-eyed. Shock delayed her reaction to the smell.

“Oh, god,” she moaned. A bloated carrion fly ricocheted off her cheek and zipped away. Gagging, Jodie snapped the door shut and ran to the gardenias, gathering flowers in her hands and rubbing their petals against her face, inhaling, desperate to purge the smell of death.

Because she’d seen him lying on the kitchen floor. And he’d been there for days.

The immortal man had died at age 51.

---

Lady Life or Death

Later that morning, Jodie took a breather—the first she’d had all day—at a little rest stop between Los Angeles and Vegas. Hers was the only car in the parking lot, although a green-trimmed long-haul truck was parked behind the restroom facilities, its driver sleeping. Jodie bought a granola bar from the half-empty vending machine near the restrooms, and then she sat on a wooden bench to eat and think.

AJ had aged, which meant his gift was absent—stolen—at the time of death. He could have been killed—intentionally or accidentally—in the struggle. First North. Now AJ. A pattern was emerging; the gift thief was picking off members of the coven. And it seemed that North had been right. Their friendship was a liability; even Jodie, who’d tried to remain totally anonymous, was letting details of her life seep out, blood in the water.

Either Chloe or Adelle could be a hunter.

After swallowing the last bite of granola, she called Adelle.

“Jodie? What is it?”

“I’m in LA. Um. God. AJ’s neighbor found his body. AJ… he was…” She lowered the phone; on the other end of the line, Adelle was screaming.

I’m sorry, Jodie thought. I’m so sorry. Instead, after the screaming became sharp, hiccupping gasps, she said, “Adelle, pretend the killer stole AJ’s phone, okay? Would it contain anything—anything at all!—that could reveal your location, full name, family’s names? Anything he could use to find you.”

“Killer?” she cried. “AJ was murdered?”

Jodie stopped herself from responding, Seems so. Instead, she asked, “What if I told you that a gift thief is targeting our group? What if AJ was murdered for his gift?”

“I sent AJ photos. We texted every day. This isn’t happening. This…” A moment of silence passed, and when Adelle next spoke, she sounded stoic, almost robotic. “Felix depends on my gift, Jodie. What should I do?”

Prey ran. Prey hid. Jodie could pack all her worldly possessions in a few suitcases and start a new life somewhere else. The Midwest, another country. She’d switch from gambling to panhandling and thereby entirely disappear from the consideration of society.

Of course, prey also sought protection in great numbers. Alone, Jodie would be running forever, but she couldn’t ask her family for help. She did enough damage to them all those years ago. After shaking the Mysterious Woman’s hand, it hadn’t taken long for Jodie to accept that her gift was real. By that point, however, she’d already torn her cousins’ minds apart.

She’d rather die than let that happen again.

“Tell your ex-husband about the murder and go into hiding. Okay? Don’t try to fight.”

“What about Chloe? Is she in danger, too?”

“I’ll warn her,” Jodie said. “And then no more communication. Who knows who we can trust?”

“Yes…” Adelle sniffled. “You’re right.” Jodie’s thumb was an inch from the “end-call” button when she heard Adelle’s quiet plea, “Be careful, hon.”

---

The last-minute flight to Portland had burned through Jodie’s most recent poker winnings, but she had enough cash in reserve to survive a couple weeks on the road. In any case, money was among the least of her concerns. In an emergency, she could use lies as currency. The phrases “I already paid for that” and “You owe me twenty dollars” went a long way.

With a flight to catch in twenty hours, Jodie took a cold shower and then whirlwind-packed a couple suitcases with her valuables. Later, the landlady would find a few pots and pans, a pillow, two comforters, and a tangle of electrical wires: extension cords, chargers, even a string of Christmas lights Jodie had used only once, years ago.

At midnight, eight hours before takeoff, she rolled a sleeping bag over the bare twin-sized mattress and tried to sleep. Every couple minutes, the yellowed blinds flashed as a car drove past her window. Normally, the street’s rhythm was a metronome lulling her to sleep. Not tonight. She tried counting cars. By one hundred, Jodie gave up.

It would be nearly 5:00 a.m. in North Carolina, where Adelle lived. Too early to call. But what good would a check-in do, anyway? She had a solid survival plan. Simple, adaptable. Adelle’s ex-husband would take a long vacation with the boys, and Adelle would move.

If this was a movie, the killer would strike tonight, when Adelle was vulnerable, frightened, and on the cusp of escape. Why? Because of dramatic tension. Or maybe because the murderer knew she was leaving, and if they didn’t act quickly, their victim would get away…

Jodie glanced at her phone. The time read 1:48 a.m. Somewhere, a fly clinked against glass.

She’d call Adelle in two hours. One last goodbye. Until then, she’d take a walk.

The 24-hour convenience store down the street sold the best tamales Jodie had ever tasted outside of her grandmother’s kitchen. Maybe they’d help her relax. Dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a wind-breaker, she stepped outside, locked the door, and set off across the asphalt parking lot with her hands thrust deep within her pockets. The surrounding windows—in her apartment complex, in the inn across the street, and in the various concrete-colored shops around them—ranged from dark to dimly lit, and although Jodie was alone on the sidewalk, at least one car drove by every minute—tick, tick, tick went the metronome.

The store was just three blocks away, a walk she’d made countless times before, but tonight, Jodie felt vaguely unsafe, like she was being watched, hunted. She glanced at the windows across the street, searching their curtains for movement. Finding nothing, Jodie turned toward the alleys and listened for footsteps.

“Perhaps I got it all wrong,” she thought. “If this was a movie, I’d be the next victim. ’Cause it’s unexpected.”

At that, Jodie grit her teeth, shook out her arms, and resumed glaring at the shadows. She wasn’t frightened anymore; this was the tension of anticipation.

What would she say to the murderer?

Want to hurt me, my guy? You’re a literal piece of shit.

Within minutes, the convenience store was an oasis of golden light around the corner. As she approached the front entrance, Jodie noticed two cars in the square blacktop parking lot. She made note of the license plates. Nevada, Nevada. Locals, then.

With a ding, ding of a little bell, the convenience store door shot open, and a man—mid-thirties, shirtless, with burnt skin and thick brown hair—jogged outside, nearly slamming into Jodie.

“’Scuse me,” she automatically said, trying to circle around him, but he sidestepped in her way, remarkably nimble for a guy who’d probably been drinking since Happy Hour, based on his smell.

“Huuuh-ay,” he said. “Whassup?”

It occurred to her that if he’d been a witch, she’d be a goner.

“Nothing,” Jodie said, and he must have believed that, so why wouldn’t he move?

“Whas the…” The rest of his question was so slurred, she couldn’t make it out.

“You want to leave me alone,” Jodie muttered, and without another word, the man staggered away, walking past the parked cars and across the street. The moment he disappeared around a motel, Jodie’s phone rang with a shrill chirp. The caller ID said: Adelle.

“Hello?” she answered, leaning against the outer convenience store wall.

“Jodie, I think the murderer was in my house! She just… she walked through the wall, Jodie!”

“What? When was this? Are you safe?”

“She isn’t here anymore. I don’t know what to do! Should I call the police?”

“What about your kids?”

“Jason took ’em to Florida already. I’m alone.”

“Okay. They’re safe. Good. Then tell me exactly what happened.” Sometime during the conversation, Jodie had started walking back home, her restless energy redirected to yet another dead-end destination.

“I was dozing—not a deep sleep. In bed, I face a window, which is always locked and covered by curtains. The headboard’s against a solid wall. Um, well, something woke me. A sound. Next thing, I’m staring at that window, and it’s dim in my bedroom, but the curtain’s clearly moving forward, toward me, like there’s somebody behind it. And I lower my eyes and see legs and a torso, and then she’s taking a slow step closer, this woman who’d walked through the wall.

“When the shock wore off, I screamed loud as I could. Same time, the curtain slipped off her head. She was… maybe mid-twenties? Hard to tell, since she wore a ski mask. Covered everything but her eyes. Five feet tall, very average build. Um, with me screaming, she didn’t care about sneaking around anymore. She charged my bed, but at the same time, I tore the glove off my hand. My death hand. When the witch saw that, she jumped back and sank through the floor. Disappeared! So I… I thought I oughtta grab my phone and run. I’d packed the car already.”

It occurred to Jodie that there was a low rumble in the background of Adelle’s call. “You’re driving now?” she guessed.

“Yeah. Just driving. What else can I do?”

“Hon, don’t freak out—”

“Oh, I’m past freaking out.”

“Okay. Okay. Did you check the back seat? The trunk?”

“Yes. I’m alone here. Certain.”

“Hm.” She pulled the keys from her pocket, holding them in her fist during the final stretch home.

On the other end of the line, there was a THUMP.

“Adelle?”

“Something just landed on top of my…”

“Am I on speakerphone now? Can you hear me through the car speakers?”

“Oh, god, I think it’s her!”

“What’s happening?”

Jodie heard the squeal of tires, a shrill wail, and another thump. Adelle cried, “Please, no!”

“Stop!” Jodie shouted. “If you hurt Adelle, you’ll spontaneously combust!”

Adelle was sobbing now. “My son is sick! He needs my gift!”

“Hey, if you take her power, you’ll die!” Jodie screamed. “Go away!”

“You killed the man I love,” Adelle cried. “For God’s sake, don’t kill my baby, too!”

“Please stop!” Jodie begged the murderer; her lies weren’t working. Either the phone had disconnected, or the witch was immune to her gift. Around Jodie, the windows of apartments and motels brightened, awakened by her shouts. A woman in a bathrobe leaned out of a third-floor window and said, “Shut the fuck up, you crackhead,” and Jodie was mentally transported to AJ’s house, surrounded by the odor of rot and the hum of flies.

From the other end of the line came a hideous sound, like a storm sucked into a jet engine. A scream slipped within the rage.

The line abruptly went quiet, although the call was still connected. There was a click, like a glove box opening, followed by the rustling of paper and metal keys.

“Adelle?” Jodie asked, ducking behind a blue mailbox and sitting cross-legged on the grimy sidewalk. “Is that you?”

A raspy voice whispered, “Your friend is bleeding to death, but I can heal her now.”

For a beat, Jodie couldn’t speak. Then, “Please save her—”

“Call off your curse.”

“My… curse?”

“If I burn to death, she’ll die, too.”

With that, the call disconnected.

---

DIRECT MESSAGES-CHLOE

Chloe: Adelle won’t answer my messages.

Chloe: I’m scared

Chloe: Please don’t leave too.

Chloe: I just want to know you’re alive.

Chloe: My power is really strong. I can protect her & you too.

Chloe: I met the Mysterious Woman when I was very little. She asked me why I was covered in bruises. I told the goddess that everyone hit me, and I just wanted to make the pain stop. She sang, “I am rubber, you are glue. Whatever you do bounces off of me and sticks to you.”

Chloe: That’s my gift. Nobody can hurt me anymore.

Chloe: I think it’s how we defeat the witch.

Jodie: Sorry I took so many days to answer.

Jodie: If you were serious about meeting:

Room 2
Throne Inn
34 Longran Circle
Raleigh, NC

Find me. I’m here all week.
PS, if you are the person who attacked North, AJ, and Adelle, I just want to talk face to face. Give me an hour of your time, answer my questions, help me understand, and I’ll turn over my gift without a fight. Adelle struggled, and now she has just one arm.

Chloe: WHAT???

Jodie: Yeah. Adelle’s ex, Jason, said the attacker tore off her left arm to stop her from using the death curse.

Chloe: That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.

Jodie: Throne Inn.

---

The Liar

You couldn’t win at poker with lies alone.

To be fair, Jodie’s gift gave her a major boost; when people thought her hands sucked, they bet accordingly. But she still had to know the game, understand probability, when to fold, and how much to risk on a hand. She had to read other players, seek out tells and inconsistencies. Sometimes, everything came down to luck.

That happened less often than one’d expect.

In fact, what finally swayed Jodie—what convinced her that Chloe was AJ’s killer, Adelle’s tormentor, and North’s dream crusher—were the odds.

Chloe is close to North (at the very least, she knows what his voice sounds like, meaning she can ID him), and he’s attacked first. Coincidence? Maybe.

Chloe wants to remain in contact with Jodie. Innocent request? Perhaps.

When Chloe realizes that Jodie is pulling away, she reveals her power, and it’s coincidentally perfect for defeating the witch. Deus ex machina? There was a mighty slim chance.

The odds of all these maybes and coincidences happening at once were so small, Jodie wouldn’t bet ten bucks on it. Of course, she could be wrong. Chloe could be a fine ally. She’d know soon enough.

There was a knock on the motel door.

“Get ready,” Jodie whispered. Then, she stood from the wooden chair beside the creaky queen-sized bed, crossed the dim room, and looked through the peephole. At first, she saw the crown of Chloe’s head—a knitted blue beanie over scruffy black hair. And then, the young woman looked up, her brown eyes large, wide set, and solemn, like the eyes of a little deer.

Jodie opened the door wide, squinting against the daylight. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Chloe.” She made no move to approach.

“Cool.” As an invitation, Jodie stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed. “Come in. Don’t be scared. I can’t hurt you. At the moment, this hotel is the safest place on Earth. Oh, but you want to take off your shoes. Carpet’s really soft.”

“Thank you.” Chloe shut the door behind her, kicked her slippers into a corner, and stood awkwardly in front of the flat-screen TV until Jodie pointed at the wooden chair.

“Sit,” Jodie instructed. “So, did you tear off Adelle’s arm? Kill AJ? Ruin North’s life? Was it you? Be honest. It’s the only way you’ll get what you want.

“I…”

“Like I said, I don’t plan to hurt you. You want my gift? Fine. I’ll give it to you happily, if you answer my questions. This isn’t a trick. Cooperation is the only way forward.”

Chloe dropped onto the chair, cradling her face in her hands. “It was an accident,” she groaned, her voice muffled.

“What?”

With a miserable sigh, Chloe looked up. “AJ. He wasn’t supposed to die. I think his heart gave out.”

“Because of the pain? The fear?”

She looked down. “Don’t know.”

“Was Adelle’s arm an accident, too?”

Chloe’s gaze sharpened. “I could have done much worse.”

“How many powers do you have, anyway? Just curious.”

“Hmmm.” Thoughtfully biting her inner lip, Chloe counted them off on her fingers. “Super strength. I can duplicate small objects, like coins or shoes. I’m able to exchange bodies.”

“Gah! How often have you done that?”

“A couple times.”

“Go on.”

“Walk through solids. Float. I can forget or remember any moment in my life. There’s North’s gift of singing. And, of course, healing, health.”

“All those gifts and no curses?”

“No,” Chloe said, lowly. “My curse is terrible.”

“What is it?”

“Hunger.” She turned, gazing at the wallpaper, stripes of off-white on dirty green. “When possible, I glut myself to survive months of starvation. Like a bear in the springtime.”

“Could you die from this … starvation?”

“Worse.” Chloe surged forward, grasping Jodie’s hands, squeezing. “You cannot understand my pain, Jodie. The things it drives me to do. It’s torture. There’s no greater agony.”

“What about the loss of a friend? Or a child?”

“You can live with grief, kid,” she hissed, her nails biting into Jodie’s palms. “Everyone does it.”

Teeth grit against the pain of Chloe’s tightening grip, Jodie asked, “And how many people have grieved because of you?”

Chloe leaned even closer. She smelled like sweat, and vanilla. Her beanie was soft, as if knitted from cashmere. “Honestly,” Chloe whispered, “I’ve lost count.”

Jodie’s ears crackled as the pressure rapidly decreased; from somewhere deep, a maelstrom roared. “Wait, what about my questions?” she asked.

“We’re done talking.”

“Stop! You don’t want to take my gift!” But if Chloe’s hunger surpassed her capacity for friendship and love, overruled her sense of self-preservation, then maybe she really didn’t want this. Or maybe she did. Jodie couldn’t lie if she didn’t know the truth.

“Let’s find the Mysterious Woman and make her take your pain away,” Jodie shouted. “Isn’t there time to try?”

Chloe just grimaced, shook her head. It was becoming hard for Jodie to breathe. There might be time for one more lie, but she was afraid of breaking the wrong mind; she and Chloe weren’t alone in the room.

Adelle had been hiding under the bed.

Suddenly, Chloe cried out with shock, and the whirlwind went silent. In Chloe’s last surge of consciousness, she looked down, gasping at the skeletal hand that touched her bare foot. Quick as a snake, the hand withdrew back under the bed.

Jodie caught Chloe’s lifeless body before it hit the hotel carpet. Behind her, Adelle crawled into the open, clutching the remains of her left arm, which was half-wrapped in black velvet. Even though the arm had been severed from her body, the death curse still worked. They’d tested it on flies earlier that week.

“I couldn’t let her steal more boons,” Adelle said, her voice robotic again; she helped Jodie lower the body to the ground. “She was already like a god.”

With a gentle swipe of her thumb, Jodie closed the corpse’s large brown eyes, wondering who they’d belonged to, before Chloe stole them.

“What’s your gift, Jodie?” Adelle asked, softly.

“What if I told you that everyone believes my lies?”

“I’d say that’s a terrible, dangerous power.” To Jodie’s right, Adelle leaned closer, and Jodie braced herself. Because it was a terrible power. Nobody should have her gift.

“You were right,” Adelle whispered. “We should find the Mysterious Woman. I want to beg her for Felix’s life. I want to understand…” She looked at Chloe’s motionless face. “…why.”

They sat together for a moment, heads bowed.

“Do you want to join me?” Adelle asked.

Jodie wished she could say, Yes, I do. Instead, she agreed, “Let’s go find her.”