Magic for Liars

by Sarah Gailey

“Who performed a back-alley abortion on this student at my school?” she said, and although her voice didn’t carry the same wave of obey-me manipulation that I would have expected from Alexandria, I felt compelled by the sheer power of her disapproval to tell her everything.

Something she’d said was stuck like a splinter under my tongue. As I tried to get a firm grasp on it, my feet carried me toward the library of their own volition. I walked in and closed the library door behind me, leaning against it, drumming my fingers against the doorframe.

There was something I was missing. They all went to Webb to see if she could perform the abortion. That already made sense, that fit together fine—

Because Sylvia already knew that it was too dangerous. So what was she going to Mrs. Webb for? That was it, that was the thing. That was the thread I needed to pull on.

I realized that I knew exactly where to find the end of the thread, the one that started with Sylvia asking for help. I didn’t know what would be waiting for me there, but for once, I knew exactly where to go.

As soon as I said it, I knew that I’d said the right thing, and I knew that I’d already decided

“I remember thinking that there was no private investigator in the world that I would be worried about. I figured there was no one who could possibly figure out what happened. I had totally forgotten that you lived in the area. Isn’t that weird?”

“I never … you think that’s what happened? I was trying to save Sylvia.”

“I learned that everything they think is impossible is a lie. The boundaries”—she gestured with her hands, describing a shape I couldn’t have identified if my life depended on it—“they’re imaginary.”

“I miss Dad, and I don’t want to see him,” Tabitha said. “I don’t ever want to see him again, because I’m pretty sure I’m becoming him.”

“So you did the surgery on Courtney,” I said quietly. “You did it to see if you could do

I’d thought she had been afraid of confessing what she’d done, but I’d had it all wrong. She had been terrified of Tabitha. Terrified of my sister, who could take a person apart with a thought.

“If you could just remove the emotional aspect,” I continued, “you could eliminate fatigue. Right, Tabby?”

“Tabitha?” I said. “I think you have to tell someone.” She looked up at me.

If this gets out … they’ll put it together, just like I did.”

I realized that everything I’d thought I knew about her—every little gift of laughter and relationship she’d given me over the past week—it was all fogged over by the fact that I had been trying to solve a murder she’d committed. She was my sister. And that was all she would ever be.

“Go find a research lab somewhere, or something like that. Work there. You can’t teach here anymore, okay? That’s the deal. You leave Osthorne—hell, leave the country. I won’t tell anyone what you did. But … but you can’t come back.”

“You’re exactly alike. She might not have been manipulating anyone on purpose, but she was still willing to make people afraid in order to get what she wanted, wasn’t she?” I was getting loud, but I didn’t care. “She was still willing to fuck with people’s heads, just like you. Do you know, I’ve spent half the time I’ve been on this case wondering if I was going crazy?” I shook my head, and let fatigue snuff out the anger that had started to spark in my belly.

I told myself that nothing had really changed: I was the exact same amount of alone as I’d been when I took the case. I’d never had anything, not really. Not with Rahul, and not with Tabitha.

I pictured myself going home and lying on the floor in the dark of my living room, staying there until my bones dissolved into the carpet. That, at least, felt like a worthwhile daydream.

It had always been me. I had always slipped away unnoticed, a guest leaving the wedding before anyone can ask her to make a toast. People didn’t stick because I was made of fucking Teflon.