“Not really,” I admitted. “What does the seven mean? I don’t get that one very often.”
“Illusions. Dreams. Creativity,” she said. “I always think it kind of looks like some kind of hallucination, you know?”
All the weird things floating in the cups did remind me of some kind of Dali painting. “This woman,” I said, moving the queen of swords so that the card more fully covered the Tower. “She’ll help? What kind of woman is she?”
“Smart, maybe with a sharp tongue. A bitch even, maybe, but with good common sense. The kind who tells you the truth you don’t want to hear.”
Bea? I wasn’t sure. She hadn’t been much help so far. The grimoire had been a dud, and, unless she was holding out on me, that pretty much tapped her knowledge of vampires and the hunt. “Could it be someone I haven’t met yet? Does it have to be a woman?”
I was thinking maybe someone from Luis’s camp might know more and that maybe I should go looking for advice there.
The reader shook her spiky head. “My experience is that court cards can be anybody, male or female, but usually they’re someone I know, even if I don’t know them well—like a teacher or something. But they’re someone
important
—you know what I mean?”
I did, though I
still had no idea whom that card could represent. “You gave me a lot to think about,” I said.
“Did your question get answered?”
“No,” I said. “But it’s a pretty big question.”
She laughed, pulling out the Death and Tower cards to put them back into her deck. “You think?”
“I guess that’s obvious, huh?”
“I figured you were going to ask about a relationship.” She smiled, then gave Thompson a broad wink.
Oh! I supposed I should have. “Maybe another time,” I said.
She tried to return some of Thompson’s money, but he refused. “No,” he said. “That was totally cool.”
Despite the brightness outside the tent flaps, I brooded on the fortune. It bothered me that the High Priestess covered Death. Did that mean Mom was going to do something against the vampires or help them … or die trying? I didn’t like any of those options.
Then there was the mysterious queen who maybe had the answer to the “status quo” toppling of the Tower—did she have the solution to the hunt? I could only hope. But who was she? And what was up with the trippy cups? Was a potion going to be involved?
“What
did
you ask?” Thompson said, startling me from my reverie.
“Oh, um.” What was I supposed to say? I wanted to tell him the truth, but he’d never believe me. “Just some family stuff, that’s all.”
“Man,” he said. “I thought I had heavy family problems. Yours involve dead guys on horses and people falling out of buildings.”
Dead guys? Ha! But I
just shook my head. “You have no idea.”
“No, I don’t,” he agreed, “but I’d like to.”
“Oh, Thompson, it’s not that I don’t want to share; it’s just … complicated.”
“It’s cool,” he said with a shrug, though I could tell it wasn’t cool—not entirely.
Having finally wandered far enough, we found the place where the food was being set up. I spotted the drink cooler. I dug through the melting ice for something good. A lot of the Outer Court members were foodies or health nuts, so there wasn’t a lot in the soda pop department, though someone had brought home brew root beer in a barrel.
Thompson peered over my shoulder. “I don’t even recognize this stuff. What the hell is basil seed drink?”
“It’s weird,” I agreed with a smile, remembering the first time someone had offered it to me. It was sort of like pop, but with tapioca “bubbles” containing basil seeds. If you weren’t expecting those, it could be quite the surprise to find your drink … chewy. “You should try it.”
Thompson saw my mischievous smile but took the can I offered anyway. He popped the top bravely and tipped his head back to take a big gulp. When his mouth filled with balls of goo, he gave me a horrified expression. I started to laugh as he grimaced and chewed.
“You are evil,” he teased after swallowing the last of the mouthful.
I got myself
a bottle of water. Someone had carefully stickered each bottle with a warning about BPA chemicals and a reminder to recycle. Thompson had moved over to check out the spread. He shot me a helpless look. “I’m not going to find chili and hamburgers, am I?”
I shook my head.
“Hot dogs?”
“Tofu pups, maybe,” I offered. At all this talk of food, my stomach gurgled, but what I was craving couldn’t be found at the picnic. I covered my stomach with my hand, but if Thompson noticed, he didn’t say anything.
He took another mouthful of basil seed drink and plunked himself down on the picnic bench seat, his back to the various plastic-wrap-covered Tupperware tubs. I sat down beside him, ignoring how queasy the smell made me. I was about to tell Thompson to take heart. Bea’s mom always made something really good, despite the often-unusual ingredients. Before I could open my mouth, I heard a familiar voice behind me. It was Mom.
I tucked my head into Thompson’s shoulder to hide, and I strained to hear what she was saying. He responded by putting an arm around me and softly kissing the top of my head. It was a little distracting, but I could still hear snatches of what Mom was saying.
“No, Victor, the lottery is barbaric. We’ve discussed this. It will not be reinstated under my watch,” Mom said.
Victor? She
was talking to Mr. Kirov, Nikolai’s dad!
Thompson’s nuzzling grew a little more intense, but I tried to stay focused on listening.
“When they attack, it will be on your head too.” His voice was menacing, not at all melodious like Nik’s. He still had a trace of a Russian accent, and I always thought of him as a hard-as-stone man. Granted, I’d seen him only a few times, and each time I did, he was threatening either me or my friends.
“What else can we do?” asked a voice that wasn’t my mother’s.
“What of your experiments on the elite captain?” It was Mr. Kirov again. “The potion did not bind the vampire?”
I jerked, knocking my head into Thompson’s chin. Holy crap! Had Elias been right? It sounded as though my mom
had
been slipping something into his drink. But what did “bind” mean? Was she trying to come up with some other way to enslave vampires … and trying it out on my sort-of ex-boyfriend?
“You okay?” Thompson murmured in my ear. His breath tickled erotically.
“Uh, you surprised me,” I said stupidly, trying not to get all shivery. I couldn’t let myself get carried away right now. What were they saying? Why did the band have to be so loud? Or Thompson’s passionate breathing for that matter!
“… No other option, then,” Mom was saying. “Will Nikolai fall into line?”
“Do you even eat meat?” Thompson asked.
“What?” I snapped, irritated that I missed Mr. Kirov’s response.
“No need to get cranky,” he said, pushing away slightly. “It’s not that I care. Not really. I’ve never dated a vegetarian before. Of course, I’ve never dated a witch either.”
“Hush!” I said
a little more intensely than I meant. His face crumpled and then contorted in a way that seemed ready for a fight or a protest. So, before he freaked out, I crooked my finger slyly behind my hand in Mom’s direction. “That’s my mom. I’m trying to hear what she’s saying without getting noticed.”
Thompson’s mood shifted, and he seemed intrigued at playing spy.
He checked over his shoulder. “Which one is your mom?”
I’d forgotten he’d never met her. I whispered, “Curly hair. Professor clothes.”
Looking again, Thompson nodded. I expected more questions or a comment on how frumpy my mom looked—because believe me, she did—but instead he just fell silent. I took the opportunity to eavesdrop.
“Gather the others tonight,” Mom finished, and apparently sent Mr. Kirov on his way. I’d clearly missed the meat of the conversation.
At least I had a couple of nuggets to go on.
“Let’s go find Bea,” I suggested. I stood up and headed back to the bandstand. With any luck the music would be so loud that I could ask her about this without being overheard. I should find a way to corner Nikolai too. It sounded as though the big thing Mom and Mr. Kirov had planned wasn’t something Nikolai necessarily approved of. Maybe that meant I could recruit him to help me find a solution for the hunt. His expertise with vampire physiology could be invaluable.
I found
Bea talking to Stevie, the drummer from the band. The band must have been on break. The two of them were laughing about something but hushed the instant they noticed my approach.
“Where’s your new attachment?” Bea asked.
“What?” I asked.
Bea rolled her eyes, as if frustrated by my dimness. “Thompson,” she said. “Where’s Thompson?”
I hadn’t realized he wasn’t beside me. “Probably still at the picnic table near the buffet setup. We’ll catch up with him. Can I talk to you for a second?” I gave Stevie an apologetic look. “Alone?”
Stevie shook her long blond hair out of her face. “Sure, no problem. I have to get ready for the next set anyway.”
I tugged Bea aside, away from the milling crowd. “Last night, at the big meeting—what was Mr. Kirov’s take on everything?”
Bea laughed. “You mean, Mr. Kill-Them-Kill-Them-All? You know him.”
I didn’t share her dark chuckle. “What’s his plan? Is Nik involved?”
“Am I involved in what?”
I looked up to see Nik. A slight sheen of sweat covered his face. The heat had made his damp hair extra unruly, and it was all I could do to keep from reaching out and fixing his errant locks.
“Hi,” Bea said simply, though somehow she managed to infuse a ton of flirt into that single syllable.
“Hey,” he responded, sparing her a moment of his attention before turning back to me. “What were you talking about, Ana?”
“I was wondering if you were in on your dad’s plan to kill all the vampires,” I said.
If he was taken
aback by my bold truthfulness, he didn’t show it, although he did take a moment to take a sip of whatever he was drinking before saying, “I’m surprised anyone’s bothering to formulate a plan. Last vamp I saw looked ready to gnaw off her own leg.”
Of course, at that very moment my stomach decided to cramp.
The pain hit like a physical blow, and I doubled over. Instantly, Nikolai wrapped his arms around my shoulders. He murmured softly, clearly trying to comfort me and discover the source of my distress. I couldn’t understand his words, though his lips brushed my ears. His nearness made my hunger worse. The scent of his sweat filled my nostrils, blocking out all other sensations. Mingled with the patchouli he always wore, the odor sent shivers of desire down my spine. He smelled so … tasty.
My jaw clicked. My fangs descended. I put my lips against his hand. My tongue tasted sweet salt mixed with the hint of the coppery ambrosia just under the surface. The sharp tip of my teeth must have grazed his skin, because suddenly there was blood in my mouth.
He started to pull away, and I couldn’t let that happen. I grabbed his wrist and sank my teeth deep into the back of his hand.
Somewhere
beyond my bliss I had the impression of screaming and pushing and pulling. But all I knew was joy. Magic filled me; I became aware of power moving through me. I felt lighter, brighter—
And then it was gone. I hit the dirt hard. Something heavy hit me hard in the chest, and all the breath went out of my lungs.
The sunlight was so bright that I had to blink several times before I could tell what was going on. Bea knelt over me in a strange position. I was looking up at her armpit. She was whispering something fiercely. “Clean yourself off. Be quick”—I finally made out her words—“and snap out of it, Ana. Hurry!”
I grabbed the nearest thing, which was the edge of Bea’s hoodie. I wiped my lips and then, horrified, stared at the blood smeared on the fabric.
“Bea, I …” I wanted to apologize, but I was so mortified that no coherent words came out.
Bea looked down at me and shrugged out of her sweatshirt. Quickly, she bundled it up. “She’s fine,” she was telling the crowd pressing around us. “She just fainted.”
Where was Nik? Was he okay? I couldn’t believe my first interaction with him since our breakup was to bite him on the hand. This was horrible. I wanted to stay hidden under Bea, but she helped me sit up. A woman with long brown hair tied into an elaborate braid encircling her head handed me a water bottle. She had at least one ring on every finger and a tattoo of a snake spiraling up her arm. “Thanks,” I said.
Bea was ordering people around. “Give her room to breathe,” she said, and I could feel the glamour in her words. A light magical spell tinged the air with the scent of violets and cucumbers. The crowd stepped back obediently.
I touched
Bea lightly on the arm and tried to ask about Nik with my eyes.
She smiled maternally. “Everything is going to be all right,” she said. “You just fainted.”
The smell grew stronger. “That’s not going to work here,” I whispered. There were too many witches in this crowd, many of them far more powerful than either of us. I swore I could already hear the sensitives in the throng grumbling softly about a forget-me spell in the air.
“It’s going to have to,” Bea snapped at me, her voice straining on the edge of a whisper, “or you’re going to be crucified by all these witches, vampire princess. What the hell were you thinking?”
I gave her a guilty shrug. She knew it was the hunger, but neither of us had expected such a strong reaction. “I don’t know,” I murmured. The weirdest part was that I felt full now. I couldn’t understand it. Elias said he couldn’t be satisfied with just a bite; I was completely recharged.
“Is Nik okay?” I handed the empty bottle back to snake-tattoo girl.
She seemed to think I was talking to her, so I got the “official” story. “He cut his hand on the glass bottle pretty bad. They’ve cancelled the rest of the show. He probably needs stitches.” I must have looked as pale as I felt because she added, “Lots of people faint at the sight of blood. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
I cast
a your-magic-is-strong glance at Bea, who shook her head slightly. The only thing I could think she might mean by that was that Nik had done some of his own magical misdirection. I really wanted to get away from everyone so I could ask Bea why Nik didn’t use his psychic blade on me. I mean, I was biting him. He’s trained to disengage vampires. Yet, from what I could tell, it was Bea who came between us. And thank the Goddess she had. What if I had drained him dry?