Moving my own power like I would any other muscle in my body, I drew the Chariot’s form to me, banishing the Aspect.
She appeared suddenly in front of me, kneeling and her arms crossed. It didn’t take a word–they weren’t soldiers to be ordered–only a push of my magic for her to lunge forward and bury her talons in the shocked male witch’s body.
I didn’t watch. I couldn’t, so instead I wrapped my hand around the hilt of the short blade sticking out of the front of my thigh.
It wasn’t silver, thankfully, but it still hurt like a bitch.
Swallowing back nausea, I pulled the knife free cleanly. My head spun, the knife clattered to the ground, and the form of the Chariot was there to brace me, her face neutral.
It wasn’t like she could actually worry about me.
But her strength was comforting and helpful all the same.
The cut healed under my scrutinous gaze. As the skin stitched back together I let out a breath, pressing my face against the Chariot’s feathered shoulder to wait out the quick healing process. My stomach rolled unpleasantly, as it had been doing while the pain ricocheted up and down my leg during the short tussle.
Unfortunately, another one of Colette’s witches took offense to my actions.
At a nudge from me, my card shot forward in a feathered flurry, taloned-feet braced against the woman’s chest as she went down.
This time, when the witch was dead, the Form of the Chariot screamed, the sound like a bird’s screech.
Great. Now all of New Orleans knew I was here.
Testing my leg by putting gradual amounts of weight on it, I was glad to find it had healed. No muss, no fuss, and only the blood on my skin and black jeans to prove I’d ever been hurt.
Screams sounded from somewhere else in the cemetery and I looked up to see a mini twister forming in some far-off area. Bits of rock swirled around the whirlwind, and I hoped fervently that Aveline wasn’t going to end up blowing around dead bodies.
Between my fights and Aveline’s not so subtle natural disaster, I had very little hope that the entire cemetery didn’t know who was here. Our advantage of surprise was gone; we needed to be done with this as soon as possible.
Then something occurred to me. I could use my magic to hunt down the spell so why couldn’t I use the Forms of my cards?
The best way to do so would be to summon the Moon, since…
I put my foot down on that thought. The Moon was hard to summon and harder to control. Now wasn’t the time.
Instead I brought the Form of the Devil to the graveyard, her card disintegrating into glittering particles once I’d summoned her. Then she was just suddenly there, in the shadowy entrance of one of the tombs, and lounged against the frame like she’d been there this whole time.
The Devil was completely different from the Chariot. I didn’t summon her Form much, but only because I found the weapon her Aspect gifted me with to be very useful.
The Form of the Devil was that of a sallow, grey skinned woman. If I hadn’t known she was my card, I would’ve thought her a zombie. Her face was eternally shrouded in shadow, her eyes glowing like embers in the pits of her sockets. I wasn’t sure if she actually had eyes, or just those weird, glowing….whatever they were.
She wore a torn and knotted dress that tied at her waist, and her whip hung from one hand, curled in black-stained fingers. Her hair was long and lank, and if I were being generous I would’ve called it brown. But perhaps that was just the dirt.
Two horns curled upward from her hair, shining like oil slicks in the moonlight.
If I was right, I could use The Devil and The Chariot to widen my search zone.
With a push of my magic, I sent the Chariot searching to my right, her steps careful and her hands brushing over the walls of tombs and gates alike.
When I did the same for The Devil, she shot forward in a rush of black, solid mist that enveloped me, choking me for a moment before she was past me and searching as well.
While they weren’t alive, nor had any actual self, there was still something to these cards that made them more than simple puppets. They were directed by my magic, yes, but if I directed them to kill someone, they would both go about it in very different ways.
As they searched, I did too. For a moment it was hard not to marvel at how far my magical senses now reached. Why had I not thought to do this sooner?
What else could I learn to do with my cards?
My mother had trained me, but there was only so much she could teach. We didn’t know any living summoners. Much of what I could do I had picked up from journals left by my great-great grandmother and my own ideas.
I’d been missing out.
It was lucky that Yuna and Aveline had drawn most of the witches to another part of the cemetery. I was able to search undisturbed, and I didn’t see anyone else as my steps took me further and further towards the trees that stood resolutely behind the back fence.
Surely they were here, right? Not in the woods beyond? The cemetery would be the safest place for him if Cian did end up killing Lucia and coming for revenge.
When, I told myself. Not if.
Something brushed against my magical sight and it took me a second to figure out who had found it.
The Devil.
She stood still as I made my way towards her, The Chariot appearing in a rush of wings behind me.
Now
