“I always like an audience.” Tav bowed deeply. The children giggled harder. “It’s showtime, kids.”
They twirled the invitation around in their fingers for a moment and then brought it to their lips. They kissed it gently, tenderly, letting their body communicate how much they wanted to know the other party. Their lips left a stain on the gold paper.
The card shimmered, glittered, and the kiss caught fire. Tav released the edge and it hung, suspended in the air, burning.
Where the paper peeled away, shedding sparks and ash like a snake shedding its skin, was a hole.
A perfect circle of nothing.
A pathway.
Through the hole Tav could see glimpses of white light, could almost hear the laughter of insects. The smell of plum skin and vinegary wine was stronger now. They could almost taste the burnt perfume of the Coven. Of the Witch Lord.
“Don’t forget your toy,” said the little girl, tossing something sparkly in the air.
Tav caught the keys, glittering silver under the light of the Earth’s moon. The second the keys touched their palm, the air in front of them rippled like heat waves. Black and chrome. Their Kawasaki Vulcan 900. The mermaid spray-painted on the fender, the paint fading and chipped. They’d have to touch it up when this was all over. Tav reached out and stroked the bike, the soft leather of the seat soothing their fingers. They were already feeling less alone. I missed you, girl, they thought.
Tav grinned at the children. “Thanks, kids,” they said. “If I don’t come back, you can keep my shades.” Tav nodded their head at the cheap aviators they had left on the vanity.
“If you don’t come back, we’ll probably all die,” said the popsicle child, licking juice off a dirty elbow.
Tav wasn’t listening. The familiar bite of adrenalin had woken them up, and everything was sharper, clearer, brighter. The glow of recklessness and danger warmed their bones. It was time for another story. It was time for a terrible mistake.
Tav grinned as they swung one leg over their motorcycle.
It felt good to be back.
Fifty-Two
THE HEART
Darkness. Warmth. The Heart was an acorn, an embryo, a spore. There were no dreams in this place, only stillness and the promise of rest.
A shrill voice cut through the silence. Wake up. We need to wake up.
The Heart stirred but resisted the call. It was sinking into oblivion, losing itself in the synaptic dance of a human brain.
The voice came again, sharp as glass. Wake up now.
Eli wrenched her eyes open. A headache stabbed at her temples and gold lights flickered at the corners of her vision. But she was awake, and whole — at least for now.
She was also alone.
Eli stared up at the bruised sky through spiny gothic spires. Her vision was blurry. She fumbled around for her glasses and jammed them on her face. Then she rose on unsteady legs and asked the walls, “Where’s Tav?”
“Oh, they’ve gone to a fancy dinner party. Sorry you weren’t invited!” Clytemnestra popped into the room. She was juggling skulls and seemed in high spirits; high treason suited her.
Eli stopped breathing. “You sent them to the Witch Lord.”
“They agreed to be our delegate. You missed so much while you were convulsing, lazy girl!”
Eli ran a thumb over the pearl blade. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” she said. “Inviting the Witch Lord into your home. If you open her portal, she might just come through it.” The movement of the skulls in the witch’s hand was making her dizzy.
Clytemnestra grinned. “I wouldn’t be interested in playing if it wasn’t dangerous.”
“Can you stop that? I can’t think.” Eli waved a hand at the spinning bones.
Clytemnestra stuck her tongue out. “You were more fun as a child.”
Eli’s blade pierced the skull of a squirrel, pinning it to the wall behind the witch. The other bones crashed to the ground as Clytemnestra lost her rhythm.
“I take it back,” said the baby Warlord as Eli crossed the room and wrenched the blade from stone. “There’s still some fun in you.”
“So you’re sending Tav as an offering.”
“Our delegate. An exciting distraction while my tame Heir opens a back door into that cranky old building.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m not from here,” said Eli shortly. “I know what ‘delegate’ means. What I don’t understand is why you want to use Tav as bait.”
“Because” — Clytemnestra spun a pirouette — “the best bait bites back. Don’t worry, your girlfriend will be there to look after them.”
Eli’s stomach dropped. “I’m going after them.”
“Sorry, sweet prince, we’re not sending the Heart into the hands of the Witch Lord. I’m sure your friends will be fine. And if not, Kite gave us some delicious chaotic magic to blow things up. There will be revelry soon enough. I promise to save you a piece of the Coven to destroy.” Her voice was sweet and sticky as candy.
Eli suddenly realized that Clytemnestra was trying to comfort her. Never had the little girl ever offered to share. This was her attempt at kindness.
The knowledge only made Eli more anxious. Why was the Warlord keeping her from Tav? She was the most powerful thing in the world — the Heart — and Tav might need her.
“Am I a prisoner?” she asked quietly. “Is the Heart your plaything now?”
“No!” cried Clytemnestra, and then she shrugged. “Well, yes. But you knew that when you retrieved it for me. You knew that when you came back here. You could have gone to the Coven, to the forest, to the home your ruined witch-mother left abandoned. You could have gone anywhere, but you keep coming here. You keep asking Tav to bring you here.”
“I didn’t ask —”
“Maybe not with words, but with your material. With your thoughts. With your desires. You came to me, even though you are not a child. And we have sheltered you, because
