For three years Dachev toured Bulgaria and surrounding countries, sticking to the rural areas, avoiding cities and larger urban areas where his freaks might be less welcome. And if, over those three years, the occasional girl disappeared from a town he passed through, well, Dachev was a handsome charmer, with an eye for the ladies, and these things happened.
Eventually, though, one of these missing girls had a beau who didn't buy this "ran away with the circus"
explanation. He followed Dachev. Soon, he discovered that the circus freaks hadn't suffered a cruel twist of genetics or accidental fate. They were man-made. Though he managed to rescue his fiancee before Dachev started in on her, when it came to the other half-dozen victims, the authorities decided to quietly provide them with a fast-acting poison and allow them to make their own decision. All chose death, and Andrei Dachev was executed as a serial killer.
"And you unleashed this… this thing back into the world?" I said.
The eldest Fate appeared, mouth a thin, tight line. "We did not unleash—"
"Yeah, he was a ghost. Powerless. Found a way around that one, though, didn't he? What the hell do you think he's been doing down there all these years? Hail Marys? He's been reliving his glory days, just itching for the chance to—"
"No, he has not."
"Oh, and you know that because—"
"Because he cannot." She paused, and her middle sister took over. "Andrei Dachev has no memories of the atrocities he committed, Eve. That is part of their punishment. We take away all memory of their lives before they died. They can't relive their crimes, their fantasies, even their impulses. It's all gone. Then they are cast into a plane where, when their urges and impulses resurface, they have no possible outlet."
"Because they're in a world of killers."
She nodded. "A world without victims, without even those that they might see as a potential victim, no female killers, no weaker males—"
"All predators and no prey. Okay, so he can't remember his crimes. But those impulses you mentioned?
First time he sees a pretty girl, even if he can't remember ever seeing one—"
"The memory loss sometimes has a second, reformatory effect. Erasing their memories may erase the source of some of their urges. If their lives were warped by extreme circumstances, such as early abuse, then—"
"When they can't remember the abuse, they become a different person, someone who isn't a killer?"
"Which, granted, happens very, very rarely," the Fate said. "But it does happen. That's what we believed had happened here. For ten years, Andrei Dachev gave no sign of having any of the urges that possessed him to commit these crimes."
"He played model prisoner."
"Played. Yes, most likely, though every test we gave him indicated that he had indeed reformed. Perhaps even he thought he had."
"Until he went into the world again."
She gave a slow, sad nod.
"His memory," I said. "It wasn't erased after his capture, right?"
"We can't do that. We can only erase living memories. I suppose, though, that's a blessing now."
"Or else he wouldn't know how he'd caught the Nix. So I need to persuade him to tell me, by descending into a hell filled with serial killers, for most of whom I'll be the first woman—and potential victim—they've ever seen." I sighed. "Well, at least they can feel pain. Please tell me I can use my spells and my Aspicio powers."
When she didn't answer, I groaned. "Let me guess. Because they're all supernaturals, it's a magic-free zone—wipes out any racial advantages."
The little girl appeared. "Well, it's supposed to be magic-free, but if a person went in there who possessed a type of magic none of the inhabitants should be able to possess…"
"Such as a female-only variety. Like witch magic."
"Magic blocking is tough enough. No sense doing it for a type of magic that no one there will ever use."
"Hmmm. I'd rather have my sorcerer spells, but witch magic is better than nothing. Now, I guess it doesn't matter what supernatural race these other killers are, if they're power-free, but I should ask anyway."
The Fate rattled off the various races in this particular supernatural serial-killers hell. Mostly half-demons, with one necromancer and one werewolf. No sorcerers, which was all I really cared about, in case they were still able to recognize a witch. Bad enough I might have to deal with that problem with Dachev.
Next, the Fates explained how I'd get out of the hell. I couldn't just walk out or recite a teleport code—it was locked too tight for that. Instead, they'd give me a hellsbane potion. Swallow it, and I'll be hell-free.
Finally, the Fates wanted me to do some practice runs with the sincerity-testing spell. As anxious as I was to get moving, I knew time in the throne room areas was slowed to a crawl. An hour spent testing the spell could save me a lot of grief later, and it would only take seconds of "real-world" time.
"Give me the spell and I'll get testing." I glanced over my shoulder at Kristof. "I could use a partner for that."
He smiled. "But of course. A magical lie detector, just what every good relationship needs."
Chapter 40
DESPITE KRIS'S JOKE, I DIDN'T USE THE SPELL FOR revealing his deepest, darkest secrets. What would be the point? I knew them already.
Without the obvious ways to test the spell, I had to get inventive.
"Ginger or Mary Ann?" I asked.
He pulled a face. "Neither."
His eyes stayed blue, which meant he was telling the truth. If he'd lied, they go black. A growing nose would have been more fun, but apparently the spell's creator hadn't been properly schooled in fairy tales.
I recast the spell.
"The Rolling Stones or the Beatles?" I asked.
"The Stones, which I'm sure you could have guessed, if you didn't already know." He uncrossed his legs, stretched them out, and leaned back against the wall. "See, that's the problem. If you know the answer, then you'll know if I lie, even without the spell."
"Ah, I've got one. Would you rather be smart or good-looking?"
Eventually, though, one of these missing girls had a beau who didn't buy this "ran away with the circus"
explanation. He followed Dachev. Soon, he discovered that the circus freaks hadn't suffered a cruel twist of genetics or accidental fate. They were man-made. Though he managed to rescue his fiancee before Dachev started in on her, when it came to the other half-dozen victims, the authorities decided to quietly provide them with a fast-acting poison and allow them to make their own decision. All chose death, and Andrei Dachev was executed as a serial killer.
"And you unleashed this… this thing back into the world?" I said.
The eldest Fate appeared, mouth a thin, tight line. "We did not unleash—"
"Yeah, he was a ghost. Powerless. Found a way around that one, though, didn't he? What the hell do you think he's been doing down there all these years? Hail Marys? He's been reliving his glory days, just itching for the chance to—"
"No, he has not."
"Oh, and you know that because—"
"Because he cannot." She paused, and her middle sister took over. "Andrei Dachev has no memories of the atrocities he committed, Eve. That is part of their punishment. We take away all memory of their lives before they died. They can't relive their crimes, their fantasies, even their impulses. It's all gone. Then they are cast into a plane where, when their urges and impulses resurface, they have no possible outlet."
"Because they're in a world of killers."
She nodded. "A world without victims, without even those that they might see as a potential victim, no female killers, no weaker males—"
"All predators and no prey. Okay, so he can't remember his crimes. But those impulses you mentioned?
First time he sees a pretty girl, even if he can't remember ever seeing one—"
"The memory loss sometimes has a second, reformatory effect. Erasing their memories may erase the source of some of their urges. If their lives were warped by extreme circumstances, such as early abuse, then—"
"When they can't remember the abuse, they become a different person, someone who isn't a killer?"
"Which, granted, happens very, very rarely," the Fate said. "But it does happen. That's what we believed had happened here. For ten years, Andrei Dachev gave no sign of having any of the urges that possessed him to commit these crimes."
"He played model prisoner."
"Played. Yes, most likely, though every test we gave him indicated that he had indeed reformed. Perhaps even he thought he had."
"Until he went into the world again."
She gave a slow, sad nod.
"His memory," I said. "It wasn't erased after his capture, right?"
"We can't do that. We can only erase living memories. I suppose, though, that's a blessing now."
"Or else he wouldn't know how he'd caught the Nix. So I need to persuade him to tell me, by descending into a hell filled with serial killers, for most of whom I'll be the first woman—and potential victim—they've ever seen." I sighed. "Well, at least they can feel pain. Please tell me I can use my spells and my Aspicio powers."
When she didn't answer, I groaned. "Let me guess. Because they're all supernaturals, it's a magic-free zone—wipes out any racial advantages."
The little girl appeared. "Well, it's supposed to be magic-free, but if a person went in there who possessed a type of magic none of the inhabitants should be able to possess…"
"Such as a female-only variety. Like witch magic."
"Magic blocking is tough enough. No sense doing it for a type of magic that no one there will ever use."
"Hmmm. I'd rather have my sorcerer spells, but witch magic is better than nothing. Now, I guess it doesn't matter what supernatural race these other killers are, if they're power-free, but I should ask anyway."
The Fate rattled off the various races in this particular supernatural serial-killers hell. Mostly half-demons, with one necromancer and one werewolf. No sorcerers, which was all I really cared about, in case they were still able to recognize a witch. Bad enough I might have to deal with that problem with Dachev.
Next, the Fates explained how I'd get out of the hell. I couldn't just walk out or recite a teleport code—it was locked too tight for that. Instead, they'd give me a hellsbane potion. Swallow it, and I'll be hell-free.
Finally, the Fates wanted me to do some practice runs with the sincerity-testing spell. As anxious as I was to get moving, I knew time in the throne room areas was slowed to a crawl. An hour spent testing the spell could save me a lot of grief later, and it would only take seconds of "real-world" time.
"Give me the spell and I'll get testing." I glanced over my shoulder at Kristof. "I could use a partner for that."
He smiled. "But of course. A magical lie detector, just what every good relationship needs."
Chapter 40
DESPITE KRIS'S JOKE, I DIDN'T USE THE SPELL FOR revealing his deepest, darkest secrets. What would be the point? I knew them already.
Without the obvious ways to test the spell, I had to get inventive.
"Ginger or Mary Ann?" I asked.
He pulled a face. "Neither."
His eyes stayed blue, which meant he was telling the truth. If he'd lied, they go black. A growing nose would have been more fun, but apparently the spell's creator hadn't been properly schooled in fairy tales.
I recast the spell.
"The Rolling Stones or the Beatles?" I asked.
"The Stones, which I'm sure you could have guessed, if you didn't already know." He uncrossed his legs, stretched them out, and leaned back against the wall. "See, that's the problem. If you know the answer, then you'll know if I lie, even without the spell."
"Ah, I've got one. Would you rather be smart or good-looking?"
