“Why did you not tell me our parents were here?”

  Mallmart seethed. She was glaring at Momo like she was on the verge of a panic attack, her hoodie pulled up over her head, hiding like some kind of B-movie villain behind the back of the spiral staircase, narrowly avoiding the view from the kitchen.

  Momo rolled her eyes. Normally, she had a little more patience for teenage meltdowns, but she was really hungry. And hunger made her a worse person.

  “I literally did tell you,” she grumbled, attempting to step out of their makeshift hiding spot, and back into the inviting aroma of freshly cooked dinner.

  “Wha–what are you doing!” Mallmart tugged her back out of sight with the ferocity of a baby bull. “Don’t let them see me!”

  Momo’s eyes widened. Damn, she’s getting strong.

  When Momo begrudgingly met her eyes again, ready to tell her off, the clone’s pupils were even more full with panic than before.

  “They look so old. Why are they so old? Oh my god. Momo. Are they dying?”

  Momo tried to open her mouth to say no, having wrinkles does not equate to dying, they’re literally only like sixty, but Mallmart began to hyperventilate.

  “Momo, I’m freaking out. I think—I think I’m having a panic attack. Or a heart attack. I can’t tell. Call an ambulance.”

  Momo swallowed guiltily.

  Okay, so maybe this wasn’t her best work—forcing her teenage self to come into contact with her almost-elderly parents. Momo was a few years older, and she still wasn’t processing the whole “aggressively sudden awareness of the passage of time” situation very well, either.

  “Listen. Momo.” She used the clone’s real name sparingly, but calling someone by the name of a department store during a panic attack seemed a little bit disingenuous. “You’re fine. You’re good. Just close your eyes, take my hand, breathe…”

  She shifted her hand to lay it on top of Mallmart’s, but the clone hit it out of the way with a hiss.

  “I don’t want your weird, sweaty little hand. I want a doctor, now—”

  “Okay, rude. These are your weird, sweaty little hands too, you know—”

  Mallmart inhaled sharply, then shouted, “And they’re not making me feel any better!”

  “Momo-yah! Why are you shouting? Do you want me to set the food on fire again?”

  Both their heads snapped in alarm toward the kitchen, where their mother had stepped out, apron-clad, frying pan in hand, into the dim light of the living room. All the clones—even Kava, who Momo wasn’t even sure had a mother—looked reprimanded.

  “Sorry,” they both said in unison.

  ***

  The tension between Momo and her teenage self showed no signs of stopping after dinner had concluded.

  After they’d all eaten, Momo ushered the clones outside into the yard, where they were to start purification practice. Momo collected a bunch of nether demons from around the neighborhood, which was a much easier task than she thought it would be. She barely had to leave their immediate area at all. It was almost like the monsters had quadrupled in numbers, practically hanging from every lamp post and street sign.

  “So, just like the diagram,” Momo instructed the group, shoving her palm outward.

  The clones watched their leader eagerly as white magic furled around her open hand, then pressed into the nether demon below her. The black creature grunted and wheezed as the white magic worked its way through its body, before finally going limp.

  “And that— that doesn’t kill it?” Marie squeaked.

  “No, no.” Momo shook her head. “It’s very humane!”

  To showcase this humaneness, Momo hoisted the whitened demon up, and gave it a good friendly squeeze on both shoulders. She’d discovered, after a lot of purifications, that this was pretty much equivalent to petting them—well, as much as you could pet the personification of Netherial angst.

  The demon made an affectionate gurgling sound.

  After the demonstration, each of the clones tried their hand at the practice, and, to Momo’s great and frankly unbelievable relief, it just…worked. The books had done their thing.

  Marie was able to perform it first, naturally, having studied the spellbook well into the night. Light from her bedroom had spilled into the hallway all evening—tiny repetitive huffs echoing into the kitchen where Momo ate midnight leftovers.

  Kava got it next, to Momo’s mild surprise. The goblin hadn’t exactly read the skillbook, but instead consumed it, literally chewing on the pages then swallowing. When Momo had questioned her methods, the goblin had just given her an annoyed look and said:

  “It is not my fault your ways of learning are primitive. Only the proudly ignorant judge the methods of the more evolved.”

  In under a week, the goblin’s English had rapidly improved to a level that was now embarrassing to any native speakers who tried to argue with her.

  So Momo didn’t try.

  Finally, that left Mallmart. Mallmart, who was currently straddling a demon on the grass, the monster squirming beneath her as she pressed both its wrists into the ground.

  Momo pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing.

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  “You’re not supposed to wrestle the thing, dude.”

  Mallmart looked up with a feral grunt, sweat dripping down her neck.

  “What else am I supposed to do? The magic isn’t going inside him.”

  Momo wrinkled her brow. "Yeah, because your hands are on his wrists, not his chest."

  "I tried that. It doesn't make a difference.”

  “Try again.”

  With a huff, Malmart released her grip, but the demon's hands tore at her. Momo caught it in time, and two black wedges, like handcuffs, slapped his wrists back down onto the ground. The demon squealed, and Malmart raised her eyebrow, impressed.

  "Your reflexes are kind of scary, Momo."

  Momo beamed. "Be careful, that was almost a compliment."

  Malmart rolled her eyes, but focus fell over her again. She placed her hands on top of each other on the demon's chest, like you would apply pressure in CPR.

  The younger clone’s eyes fluttered closed as she took in a deep breath. As she pushed inward into its chest cavity, attempting to call upon the spell, Momo activated the [Eye of the Nether Demon]. The light of the outside flickered out like a candle, replaced by a black and blue world of Nether and Mana.

  Now viewing the situation from a different lens, Momo took an appraisal of her surroundings. To her left, she saw Kava's soul chain flutter in the wind. Its thickened, meaty brackets were unlike anything she'd seen on Alois. By contrast, Marie's chain was thin and simple, clean like it had been power-washed—it looked barely touched by magic at the top, but started to turn faintly blue the closer it got to her chest.

  Seeing that gradient of magic appear on the chain made Momo pause.

  Interesting.

  Does exposure to mana change the nature of your soul?

  Looking for further evidence to support her hypothesis, she turned to Mallmart, expecting to see something of the same reaction—but the soul chain was different. Very different. Rusty. Red. Blackening. Alarmed, Momo opened her eyes, and saw sweat dripping down Malmart's neck. The younger Momo was wincing in frustration, as if she was trying to break down a brick wall with only her hands.

  Momo flitted between the two views rapidly, trying to get a clear picture of what was going on. Inside Mallmart’s stomach, Momo saw the familiar ball of blue light that everyone had within them—the core of their mana.

  But Malmart's was different. It was almost as if it was sealed, a barrier around it. The volatile blue pulse was pushing like a wild animal against the walls of its sphere, begging to escape. Momo could feel just how much Malmart was pulling for it, trying to access it, but to no avail.

  "Stop," Momo said gently. "Stop, it's fine. You don't have to do this anymore."

  Mallmart's voice was strained, her attention still fully on the beast. "What? Huh?"

  "I said stop." Momo pulled her off the demon, with a bit more force than she intended. Mallmart skidded through the damp grass, her chest heaving. When Momo sent her an apologetic glance, the hairs on her arms went rigid—Mallmart’s eyes had changed color, glowing red, molten lava in her pupils.

  Momo felt a deep sense of unease turn in her stomach.

  Her jaw clenched.

  "That's enough for today.”

  Without thinking, she waved her hand in the air to issue a silent command.

  When she did, all of the demons the clones were practicing on abruptly turned from black to white, purifying within an instant. The mana in the air throbbed with the intensity of the spell. It wasn’t something Momo had done before—she didn’t even know she could purify them without touching them—but apparently, where there was a will…

  Distracted by her sudden discovery, Momo failed to notice that Mallmart was stalking toward her, anger written in her features.

  "Why did you throw me off of him? I was getting so close! I could feel it!”

  Momo frowned, unsure how to communicate what she had just seen.

  She wasn't sure what it meant exactly, that Malmart wasn't able to reach her mana core, that her chain didn't look… healthy.

  Did it have something to do with the fact that Mallmart had been in a version of Earth that wasn't her own for too long? Had she overstayed her welcome?

  She frowned. That can’t be it.

  If that was the case, wouldn't Marie and Kava’s chains also look worse for wear?

  Or was it just the state of the teenager’s… mental state?

  If that was true, then Momo was being a seriously bad babysitter.

  She frowned.

  It was clear to her then.

  She needed to send Mallmart back home.

  ***

  “You’re out of your mind.”

  Suffice to say, Mallmart was not taking the idea well.

  "If you'd just hear me out—”

  "I heard you out,” Mallmart retorted, nostrils flaring. “We're on like the third version of this conversation, and I’m still completely opposed to every word coming out of your mouth.”

  Momo had given Mallmart an hour to cool off after their training session. But after that, she'd dragged her upstairs to the McMansion’s attic—which, with a pool table, several fridges, and a spa, was not really much of an attic. But it was crucially far enough away from prying eyes or nosy ears.

  She didn't want the other clones to know the real reason she was sending Mallmart home. And she certainly didn't want to further confuse or alarm her poor parents.

  "Look. Momo.” She squeezed the other girl’s arm where it rested on the table. “You've seriously been an asset to this team so far. I just don't want you getting hurt."

  Mallmart scoffed, flinching away from Momo’s touch.

  “I don’t care if I get hurt.”

  “Well, I do. And you’re here on my permission slip, okay? So you don’t have a choice.”

  At that, something in Mallmart’s expression changed. Her face went almost unreadable. She slowly leaned back in her seat, her arm hanging languidly over the chair.

  There had been a shift. Momo had no idea what it was.

  Mallmart’s fingers began to fiddle with her earlobe. Momo looked at her with confusion for a moment before her eyes widened in realization.

  With a snap, the clone removed the earring Kezko had custom-made her.

  The one with the mana-gem inside that connected the two of them.

  Next, she removed her bracelet. The catwalk communicator that Momo had gifted her.

  “Without these tethers...” Mallmart stared sharply into Momo’s eyes. It was a look—a decisiveness—she’d never seen in her own gaze. “If you send me back to my Earth, you have no way of ever contacting me again.”

  Momo stalled, mouth agape.

  Was that true? She had used the earring to specifically summon Momo this time. But she was pretty sure she could do it without it. She’d summoned her in the past without any actual connection between the two of them.

  Mallmart seemed to sense her confusion, so she leaned forward, elaborating, “I know you’ve never been on the other side of that [Body Double] spell before. But I have. I know what it feels like when you’re trying to summon me. To locate me. I couldn’t fight it before—I didn’t understand what mana is—but now I do. Now I can see it. And I don’t have to answer that summons. I can silence it, like a phone call.”

  Momo’s mouth opened and closed, frustration and tension and sadness and a hundred other emotions building like a small volcano in her stomach.

  “And if you send me back now, I promise I’m never going to answer that damn call again.”

  Mallmart’s bottom was trembling, her hands shaking; her pupils had dilated fully, that molten redness floating back. That same potent redness Momo had felt in her own eyes, when she’d felt [Soul Cannibal] awaken in her for the first time.

  This was a side of herself she’d never seen from the outside.

  Mallmart stood up, the chair screeching backwards. A single tear was streaking down her face. Momo wanted so badly to reach up and hug her, but something kept her fixed to the chair. Stunned, immobile.

  “You just don’t get it. You had this life—these powers—handed to you. You don’t understand what it’s like for me, blipping in and out of an existence where I could be more than the person I am on Earth.”

  Mallmart’s fists tightened. Her neck throbbed.

  “If you take this opportunity away from me, I’m going to go back home, and I’m going to follow in exactly your footsteps. I’m going to go to upstate New York. I’m going to fail my degree, and I’m going to do exactly the thing you refuse to tell me—whatever it is that happens to you that takes me from my miserable life on Earth and puts me in your shoes. That lets me finally live the life I’m supposed to.”

  Before Momo could get another word out, the teenager had brushed harshly past her. Eyes alight like fire, she was barreling toward the attic door—headed down a warpath that Momo could not envision. Her corroded soul chain flared through the air.

  “So if you don’t want that to happen.” The door slammed. “Then get out of my way.”