Blood Spells

Which is a given, really, since he’s the only one who knows—consciously or not—why the gods won’t speak to him.”

“Could the Lamat card refer to anything else?” he asked. She couldn’t quite read his expression.

“Possibly. Maybe the third card will help clarify things.” She flipped the apex card, and her stomach sank at the sight of a jagged “X” symbol. “Etznab. Shit.” She shook her head as disappointment rolled through her. “We already know we need to step through the mirror. That’s what we’re trying to do, damn it. But what mirror? Where?” Looking up at the others, she made a helpless gesture. “I’m sorry. It’s a real reading—there’s no way I could accidentally pull a reading that says Brandt and I should step through the mirror. But it doesn’t tell us anything new.”

They all stared down at the triangle of cards for a long moment. She was surprised when Brandt was the one to break the silence. “What if it’s trying to tell you something new, but you’re not listening?”

When her head snapped up, he held up his free hand. “Whoa. Not trying to start a fight. I’m just wondering whether you’re making assumptions here based on past readings. What if you—I don’t know—try to look at this with completely fresh eyes? No preconceptions.”

“Right. Because I’m my own worst enemy.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No. The cards did.” And as much as it sucked to admit it, he could be right. She stared down at the spread, trying to blank her mind and start over. “Okay. Imix is the mother figure, period. In the shadow position, it deals with issues of trust and revelation. I’m confident of that interpretation.”

She’d been through the book so many times in the past week that she didn’t need to look anymore. She knew the aspects by heart. “But you might have a point about Lamat. Not everything about it connects to you. The shadow aspects are a perfect fit, but this isn’t a shadow card.” Thinking fast, she recalled, “In its light aspects, Lamat is the One Who Shows the Way. He’s a leader who seeks to harmonize disparate things. He’s connected to the rabbit, fire, and the path of destiny.” Light dawned; she turned to Strike. “Hell. You’re Lamat here. I would’ve thought you’d be Ahau, the king’s card, but you’re not, at least not in this spread. Here, you’re the clear mirror.”

“Keep going,” Brandt urged.

Thinking out loud, she said, “Strike holds the clarity I’m seeking. To reach it, I need to reveal myself. In doing so, I’ll step through—” She broke off as dismay rattled and her stomach knotted.

“Oh.” Oh, shit. The cards had practically been beating her over the head with it, but she hadn’t seen it until now.

In the end, it was all about the hall of mirrors.

Brandt tightened his grip on her hand. “You’ve figured it out.” It wasn’t a question.

“I think so.” And in revealing herself to her king, she was going to have to out Brandt as a coconspirator, when the incident in question had been one of the few times he’d really come through for her at Skywatch.

Then again, she thought, revelation, like sacrifice, wasn’t supposed to be easy.

She released Brandt’s hand. As if that had been a signal, the other magi dropped their touch links.

Taking a deep breath, she stood and faced Strike fully. “Brandt and I need to use the shrine.”

“The ceremonial chamber?” Strike said, referring to the sanctified room near the center of the mansion, where a glass roof let in the sun and stars, and the ashes of their ancestors provided a power sink. “Of course. No problem.”

“I’m not talking about the chamber. I’m talking about the shrine in your suite. The one with the torches, the chac-mool, and the obsidian mirror on the back wall.”

A mirror that, as she’d stood there, heart pounding with the fear of being discovered, had created the illusion of her being in a torchlit hall of mirrors instead of a tiny closet hidden within the royal suite.

Jox and Leah looked startled. The rest of the magi and winikin looked confused with the exception of Strike, whose expression darkened. “That’s a private room. Why would you—” He broke off, looking disgusted and rapidly heading for pissed-off territory. “My laptop. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Patience glanced over at the muted TV, which was back to cycling through the destructo-montage of images from the big quake. Ten thousand dead, she reminded herself. Brandt can stop it from happening if he becomes the Triad mage. And to do that, they needed access to the king’s hall of mirrors.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Earlier this year, I snuck into your suite and searched it, looking for information on where Woody and Hannah were hiding with the twins. I figured you’d have it on a nonnetworked computer, so I kept looking until I found it.”

“In the shrine.” The words came from Jox, who was glaring at Strike. “Thanks for the fucking vote of confidence.”

Although the royal suite was off-limits to the others without invitation, the royal winikin had free access to Strike and Leah’s living space. He wouldn’t have gone into the mages-only shrine, though . .

. which was why Strike had hidden the laptop there, removing the temptation. At least, that was what Patience had guessed when she had found the machine, and now it seemed that Jox had made the same leap.

Strike’s lips thinned. “I thought it would be easier that way. You took it so hard when Hannah left.”

The winikin drew himself up to his full height, which suddenly seemed much more than his actual five-nine or so. “Right. So you figured that I might jeopardize, not just her safety, but also that of Woody, who I respect the hell out of, along with Harry and Braden, who are the last Nightkeeper twins on the earth plane—by tracking her down and . . . what? Popping out for a visit?” Jox’s face had gone a dull, furious red. “And this was based on what? The way I turned my back on her during the massacre, and got you and Anna to safety, even though Hannah was screaming my name? Or how I didn’t go looking for her over the next two decades so I could focus on raising you kids and keeping Red-Boar as sane as possible?

“Or maybe it was because of the way I kept my distance from her once we were all back here, or how I lectured her, like a pious little twerp, on how us winikin—especially me—needed to put duty and responsibility ahead of personal feelings? Was that it?” The winikin was shaking, but his voice was razor sharp, his eyes cold. “Well, fuck you. I deserve better than that after everything I’ve done for your kingship and this fucking place.” He waved a hand around Skywatch, and maybe even the earth plane itself.

“Wait. Jox.” Strike held up a hand. “Please.”

“Screw that.” Jox looked around, expression edging toward wild, as if he’d just realized that he’d gone off on his king in front of his subjects, and contrary to everything the winikin stood for, he wasn’t sure if he gave a shit. “And screw this.” Wheeling, he stalked off.

“Jox!” Strike called, his voice caught somewhere between a royal command and a plea. The winikin didn’t look back as he headed down the hallway that led to the huge garage.

In the stunned silence that followed his exit, Patience realized she’d stopped breathing. She was afraid to keep looking at Strike, but couldn’t look away from the grief and guilt written on his face, knowing she had helped put it there.

Oh, shit. Now what?

Leah started after Jox. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“No,” Rabbit said. “Let me.” At her startled look, he lifted a shoulder. “I owe him. He put up with my old man for all those years so he could make sure things didn’t get too bad for me. He did that even after—” He broke off. “I just owe him. Okay?”

Leah held up her hands in surrender. “Okay. You go. But tell him . . . tell him we were trying to make things better, not worse.”

Rabbit’s lips twitched, but with zero humor. “Yeah. Been there.” He sketched a wave at Myrinne and disappeared in the winikin’s wake.

When he was gone, Strike fixed a glare on Patience. “I thought the cards said you were supposed to reveal