I pick up the tumbler. Empty. ‘Did you just use water?’ I ask.
Amparo nods. ‘I’ll refill it.’
When she returns, I dip my finger in the tumbler and drag it around the mirror, rewetting my finger again and again until the seal is complete. Nothing happens – no change in pressure, no swirling current. The glass shows my increasingly panicked face and Amparo, standing behind me, as still as she was on the mezzanine when East dropped the piglet.
‘What did I do wrong?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know.’
‘You try.’
She hesitates. We’re running out of time. East said the sacrifice must be performed on the night of the solstice. Max won’t let the clock run out.
‘Try,’ I insist.
She does, slowly, and again, nothing changes.
When I told Amparo I was moving out, our whole friendship played across her fa
