to take from this.” She reached for the dog-eared book that went with the deck, figuring she should reread the entire entry on the
But then she hesitated, staring at the card.
What if it wasn’t signifying unfinished business? What if it was telling her something far more obvious?
“Mirrors,” she whispered. “Holy shit.”
The ancestors had held mirrors as sacred, believing they were doorways into the soul . . . and into memory.
Her hands shook as she fumbled out her phone and called the library. Thanks to a private cell covering the compound—Jox’s doing—the call went through immediately, though canyon country itself was a dead zone. “Hey there,” Jade said in answer. “Any news?”
“Brandt is the same.”
“I’m sorry. Anna’s in bad shape too.” Jade’s voice echoed with concern for her friend. “Strike and the others are at the hospital now.”
“Gods.” Patience closed her eyes and sent a quick prayer. She didn’t know Anna well, but she was a teammate, estranged or not. And, apparently, a Triad mage. She had collapsed within minutes of the Triad spell being triggered, and had wound up rushed to the ER with an intracranial bleed.
Jade continued, forcing a businesslike tone into her voice. “And in the ‘not sounding good’ department, Mendez’s
“But I’m guessing you didn’t call for an update.”
“No.” Patience let out a slow breath and crossed her fingers that this was going to work. “Did Lucius’s search for memory enhancers pull up anything related to mirrors, like a mirrored artifact or a spell that uses one?”
There was a beat of silence on the other end. Then Jade said, “There’s a mirror-bottomed pot on the
‘to be translated’ pile. The magic led Lucius to it, but we moved it down on the priority list because a rough translation of the first few glyphs suggested that it’s more aimed at breaking mental blocks than recovering actual memories.”
Patience’s heart drummed in her ears. “Translate it now. Please. I think it’s the one I need.”
CHAPTER FOUR
While she waited, Patience downed a couple of energy bars and a cup of coffee, and skirted gingerly around the coffee table, where the
She had defended her new hobby, but now she realized that she hadn’t really believed—not deep down inside—that the cards had any true power. Now, though . . . she hesitated to pull another, fearing that she would turn over something way darker than
“It’s open,” she called. But then, unable to sit still, she stood and crossed to the door as it swung inward. She stopped dead at the sight of Rabbit. He was carrying a brightly painted, three-legged clay pot, and had a plastic bag and a manila folder tucked under one elbow. And he hadn’t been in the suite in a long, long time.
For a few seconds, the past and present ricocheted off each other, making her yearn.
“I volunteered to bring this stuff over and see if you want help with the spell,” he said conversationally, like they were picking up in the middle of a discussion they’d been having only moments earlier, rather than the year- plus it had been since the last time they had hung out together.
His blue-gray eyes, though, were wary.
It was the same expression he’d worn early on, when he’d watched the world from behind the insulation of an iPod and a teenager’s sulkiness. Back then, his father had given him good reason to anticipate trouble. Now she didn’t like knowing she had put that look in his eyes.
She reached out impulsively to grip his forearm. “I was just thinking about you.”
He went very still. He didn’t pull away, though, and when he met her eyes, he saw an echo of her own regrets. “I’m sorry about Brandt. If I didn’t have the hellmark—”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Patience interrupted, tightening her grip. “Not even you can control the gods.
And besides, I wasn’t thinking about what happened today. . . . I was thinking about the breakfasts we used to have in here, the whole gang of us together.”
Rabbit nodded, but he broke eye contact and his body closed up on itself, the way it used to. After a moment he pulled away from her and headed for the master, where he took a long look at Brandt before turning away to set the pot on the floor beside the bed, then crouching to put the folder and plastic bag beside it.
Those simple actions seemed to take forever.
Finally, he said, “I miss the rats.” That was what he’d called Harry and Braden—his rug rats. “I miss those breakfasts.” There was a long pause; then he glanced up at her. “I miss us being friends.”
She had been looking at the clay pot. Now she looked at him. And, seeing a hint of vulnerability, she didn’t cheat either of them with a knee-jerk answer of “We’re still friends.” Instead, she said, “Myrinne doesn’t like me.”
His lips twitched, and he glanced away. “She figured out that I used to have a huge crush on you.”
She kept it light, sensing that was what he needed right now. “I can’t say I mind the idea of a gorgeous coed wanting to scratch my eyes out over a younger man.” Though really they were only a few years apart in age.
His expression eased a little, but his body stayed tight as he stood and turned to face her fully. “That wasn’t . . .
Oh. Ouch. So much for keeping it light. Too aware that Brandt was lying a few feet away, she said, “You didn’t screw up anything, Rabbit. At least not between Brandt and me.” In other areas, he was notorious. “You just reminded me what it felt like for a relationship to be fun and easy. And there were moments when I saw a younger version of him in you, and realized how much I missed the guy he used to be, how much I wanted him back.”
They both looked at the bed, where the older, tougher version lay motionless and stern-featured.
“Okay,” Rabbit said after a moment. “Yeah. Okay.” She got the feeling he wasn’t totally satisfied, but he didn’t pursue it. Just nudged the pot with the toe of his boot. “You should be all set. The folder’s got the translated spell, both in phonetic Mayan and English, along with Lucius’s interpretation. There’s some incense and stuff in the Ziploc. I’m not sure what all’s in there, but Jade said the spell itself wasn’t anything too drastic. None of the old ‘Draw the thorny vine through your pierced tongue’ or ‘Let blood from your foreskin.’” He gave an exaggerated shudder, but his sidelong look was one hundred percent serious. “I could help, you know. Unless you think the hellmark will fuck things up yet again.”
“I don’t—” That time, the knee-jerk almost made it out, but she stopped herself, narrowing her eyes. “You’re still a manipulative little shit, aren’t you?”
He shrugged, unrepentant. “Almost worked.”
She pointed to the hallway door. “Out.”
The order echoed back to the numerous times she’d banished him and the twins out to the patio, or the pool, or just about anyplace other than the suite, with its enclosed spaces and tight acoustics. This time, though, the echo brought a sense of the past and present connecting rather than moving further apart. And it eased something inside her, just a little.
He tossed her one of the panic buttons that were hardwired into the Skywatch system. “Jox wanted me to remind you not to be shy about using it.” He paused. “You want an earpiece? One of us could monitor—”
“No,” she cut in, “but thanks.”
He nodded, sent her a “good luck” salute, and headed out. Before the hallway door had fully shut behind him, she had cleared off the nightstand, dragged it into position beside the bed, and hefted the three-legged pot
