by Cate Tiernan
But other than that, I did great—nothing went wrong.
Nothing got too big or weird.
I didn’t get blown across the room.
So what did that say about Thais?
The Whole Balance of Power
“Hand me that magnifying glass, will you, Jules?” Daedalus held out his hand without looking up.
Jules got the small round lens from the shelf and handed it to Daedalus, who was leaning over a map on the worktable in Axelle’s attic workroom. Downstairs he could hear Luc’s raised voice, as if he and Axelle were arguing. He sighed. When Daedalus and he had first come up with this plan, it had sounded so feasible somehow.
“I’d forgotten how unwieldy the Treize is,” he said.
“Hmm?” Daedalus glanced up. “Did you say something?”
Jules gestured to the door at the top of the stairs. “Sounds like Luc and Axelle are locking horns again. Somehow I’d forgotten how strong everyone’s personalities are. Though I don’t remember Luc being so… volatile.”
“He never was,” Daedalus said absently. Keeping one finger on the ancient map he was studying, he carefully wrote some notes in a small book. He stood up, capped his pen, and looked at Jules. “Luc’s always gotten along with everyone—I mean, after Ouida got over their whole thing. We all knew Luc’s foibles, but they never got in the way, never interfered with any of us. It’s unusual, his being so… emotional.”
“Sophie,” said Jules, and Daedalus waved one hand dismissively.
“That’s old news. It can’t have anything to do with how he is now.”
“So is it the girls, then?” Jules asked, frowning. “I don’t see how it could be. His dalliances never—”
“Never reach his heart?” Daedalus laughed. “You’re assuming he has a heart, Jules. You know Luc. He has a porcelain surface—nothing gets in, and nothing gets out. Yes, we’d discussed his plan, his mission, in regard to the twins. And it seems like he failed, which is certainly unique. But I can’t believe whatever happened with Thais and Clio has affected him. There must be something else going on.” Daedalus looked thoughtful. “Perhaps it would be prudent to find out what that is.”
“Maybe he’s against doing the rite?”
“No,” said Daedalus, leaning over the map again. “Of course not. No, everyone is behind what we’re doing.”
“Not everyone,”Jules said, frowning. “Remember—”
“No, everyone.” Daedalus stood up straight again and fixed Jules with a glare. “No one could seriously oppose what I’m doing—you know that. Anyway, even if they did at first, they’ll come around.” He bent down to his work again. “Besides,” he added, almost in an undertone, “even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. None of them is at all powerful enough to really impede me. Well, maybe Petra.”
Jules was stung. Maybe Petra? Only she? Pressing his lips together, he walked over to the gable window and looked out. From here he could see the river and hear the blare of tugboats’ horns as they guided the huge tankers upstream. A haze hung over the water, and the last of the day’s sunlight shone weakly through it.
Only Petra. Daedalus considered only Petra worthy of concern. So Jules’s own power, own acquiescence, was taken for granted or not taken into account at all. And he noticed that this whole scheme, which he and Daedalus had developed together during the summer, now was Daedalus’s plan, his idea. Who was Jules? An underling? An assistant?
Jules set his jaw, then schooled his face into calmness and turned back. His power. That was exactly what could change if they did this rite with the full Treize. The whole balance of power would change, in an instant.
Another Level of Desolation
“Bay,” Richard murmured, painting it on his wall. The silver paint looked good against the deep blue, and he stood back to admire its effect.” “Wind.”
Even though this apartment was only rented and even though he would no doubt not be here long, still, Richard had decided to go ahead and make his surroundings more comfy. His bedroom wasn’t big, and his bed was a single mattress on the floor. A low altar in one corner was covered with red candle wax. But the rich blue walls felt good, and now he was painting silver symbols and runes in a border encircling the room.
“Collet,” he said, dipping his brush into the paint. He drew two small circles connected by a U shape. Necklace. A drop of silver paint dripped off his brush onto his bare chest. Absently he smeared it with a finger, then put down the brush and lit a cigarette. He was standing in the middle of the room, planning his design, when he heard the apartment door slam.
Richard grinned wryly. What a surprise—Luc was still in a bad mood. He heard cabinets open in the kitchen, liquid being poured into a glass. Footsteps came down the hall, and then Luc was in the doorway, taking a sip of his drink.
“If that’s the last of my scotch, I’m going to kick your ass,” Richard said without heat.
“Left you some for breakfast tomorrow,” Luc said, looking at Richard’s handiwork. “You’re going to have to repaint all this before you leave.”
Richard shrugged, blew out some smoke, and tapped ash onto the floor.
Luc’s eyes narrowed as he caught some of the symbols. “You doing something here, Riche, or is this just for looks?”
Richard glanced at him. “Looks.”
Luc moved closer to the wall and tapped the symbol for feather. “Plume? Collet? Tache? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were working up to something.”
Richard regarded him evenly. “Good thing you know better.”
Luc drank, looking bleak. Ah, the twins, Richard thought. The lovely twins, with hair black as night, eyes green as the sea. Cerise’s eyes. Armand’s hair. Funny how their looks had been preserved so perfectly after all this time. Each daughter, daughter after daughter after daughter, had married. Some had married men in the famille, some had married outsiders. But for all that inpouring of genetic material, here the twins were, almost identical replicas of Cerise. As if they had sprung from her directly, without their blood being watered down over and over. His mouth set in a grim line and he went to pull on a T-shirt, carefully switching his cigarette from hand to hand.
“So you know Petra’s back,” he said.
Luc looked up. “Really? When? Where was she?”“Got back yesterday. Apparently she was up north, refixing Michel Allard’s will.”“In what way?” Luc asked.
Richard took a drag on his cigarette, acting casual, drawing out Luc’s torment. “She got custody of Thais. Plucked her out of Axelle’s like a chicken out of a fox den. But you probably know this.” He watched Luc out of the corner of one eye, saw him run a hand through hair already ragged, his face achieving yet another level of desolation.“Thais isn’t at Axelle’s anymore?” Luc asked, trying to sound calm and failing. Richard frowned. Luc actually seemed to have it bad, which was disturbing. Okay, fine, fool around with them, not a problem. But something more? It could be … dangerous.
Richard and Luc had always gotten along, as long as neither hampered the other in getting what he wanted. So far they’d never wanted the same thing.“Nope,” Richard said, putting out his cigarette. He screwed the paint cap back onto the jar and set it aside. “She moved uptown with Petra last night. I helped load the car.” He looked at Luc thoughtfully. “If they told Petra about you screwing them both, she’s going to have your blood.”
Luc flushed. “I didn’t screw either one of them.”“Sorry. I meant screw over.”“Bite me.” Luc’s hand was clenching his glass so hard Richard thought it might break.
Richard smiled. “And you would call it …?”
“A mistake.” Luc turned away, heading down the hall to the kitchen. Richard followed him, saw him dump the last of the bottle into his glass and slam it down.“So much for breakfast tomorrow,” Richard said. He leaned against the counter. “I’ve never seen you like this. And your uncharacteristic lack of finesse in this situation has raised eyebrows. What’s going on?” He laughed. “Oh, déesse, do
n’t tell me you actually care.”
Luc’s face hardened. “Like you should talk,” he said, quietly biting. “The way you used to moon over Cerise. The whole village knew. They thought it was funny. Too bad she wasn’t interested in a little kid.”
Richard felt anger heat his blood and tried to quench it. His throat hurt and he swallowed hard, wishing like hell Luc hadn’t just drunk the last liquor in the house.“What makes you think she wasn’t interested?” he said mildly. “Anyway, let’s just say my technique has improved in the last two hundred years. As has my success rate. Since the twins have given you the brush-off, would you mind if I had a go? How about Clio?”“Good luck,” Luc said bitterly, staring at his empty glass. “She’s a handful.”
Richard kept his eyes on Luc. “Or maybe Thais?”
Luc looked up, and Richard was surprised, though he didn’t show it. He’d seen Luc in every situation there was, from crazed drunken revelry to the bitter ashes of regret, but he’d never seen this, this cold, weirdly calm look of murderous rage.“Try it and I’ll rip your heart out,” Luc said.
Maybe Another Two Hundred Years
“They told you this?” Ouida asked, and Petra nodded.
Morning sunlight shone in through the plants hanging in front of the window. It cast green-tinged dappled light over the table, the worn linoleum of the floor. Petra opened the back door to let more breeze in.“Récolte soon, and as hot as July,” she murmured.“This is New Orleans,” Ouida said dryly. “Monvoile will come and go and it’ll be as hot as July. But maybe you’re not used to it yet. Maybe another two hundred years.”
“Should be cooler by Soliver,” Sophie said. “Maybe.”
A noise by the screen door made Petra look, and Q-Tip smacked the screen with one paw.
“Oh. Present for Mommy,” Ouida said, looking through the screen.
“Ick,” said Sophie. “Is that a mouse?”
“What’s left of one,” Petra said with a sigh. She opened the door and let Q-Tip in, then held out her hand. “Tranquillez,” she murmured, sketching a quick sign in the air, and the cat froze in mid-step on the kitchen floor.
“Why does that work if he’s deaf?” Ouida asked.
“I don’t know,” said Petra, kneeling by him. “But I’m glad it does. Okay, Q-Tip, drop the mouse. Laissez tomber.”
Q-Tip’s mouth opened, and the mouse corpse fell onto the floor.
“It’s a lovely mouse, Q-Tip,” Petra said, getting a plastic baggie. “Thank you so much.” She patted his head, and though he stayed in place, she felt him start to purr. “You are such a good hunter. A fierce and mighty hunter. I’ll put this mouse somewhere safe. Déchargez.”
Q-Tip, released from his holding spell, sat down and started washing his paw.
Petra put the mouse baggie up on the counter to get rid of later.
“Okay, where were we?” she said, sitting down again.
“Where you were telling us that someone’s trying to harm Thais and Clio,” said Sophie.
“Yes,” said Petra. “And I believe them.” She described the different attacks the twins had told her about. “But they said it hasn’t happened lately—not since the circle with the Treize, in fact. Which is why I let them go out to do some errands today. Did either of you feel anything that night? Anything off or dangerous?”
“You mean besides Daedalus?” Ouida asked.
“The girls were angry at Luc,” Sophie said stiffly. “Really angry. And there was more strong emotion, going between all three of them.”
Petra nodded. “Yes. I have to talk to him. Each of them says things with Luc were superficial—that they’re angry but dealing. Did you get more than that?”
“Oh yes,” Sophie said, frowning. “I feel sure—there was much bigger stuff between them, big, strong emotions.” She shook her head, her lips tight.
Petra thought. Why hadn’t the girls told her this? Embarrassed? She looked at Sophie. “Has he told you anything about what happened between them?”
“We don’t really talk,” Sophie said, twisting a ring around one finger.
“Sophie,” said Ouida gently. “It’s been too long, cher.”
Sophie looked at Ouida, her eyes wide. “How can you say that? You—”
Ouida reached out to put her hand on Sophie’s. “It was a very long time ago. He was young and foolish and selfish. I’ve made my peace with him. He’s a different person now, and so am I.”
Sophie didn’t look up. “We just don’t get along.”
Across the table, Petra met Ouida’s eyes. Drop it, she told her silently. You’ll get nowhere.
“Okay, so we have someone trying to harm or possibly even kill the twins,” said Petra. “We have the Luc thing, which I’ll get to the bottom of. We have Daedalus and his rite. Where do you two stand on that?”
“I don’t want to do it,” Sophie said, surprising Petra. She still didn’t meet Petra’s eyes, which meant she was hiding something.
“I’m not sure,” Ouida said slowly. “My first reaction was no way. But as I think about it, I wonder if it could be used to sort of, well, heal things. Heal us.”
Petra nodded. “I know what you mean. Personally, I don’t trust Daedalus. I’m not sure how I feel about the rite. I can see both sides. Thais and Clio haven’t told me what they would decide, and I still need to figure out how hurting them would benefit anyone, or benefit or hurt the rite.”
“It would hurt you,” said Ouida. “And we need both of them to do the rite, to be thirteen.”
“So it could be someone who wants to specifically hurt Petra but in an emotional way, not a physical way. Or it could be someone who doesn’t want the rite to happen,” said Sophie. “I mean, besides me. I’m not trying to hurt the twins.”
Petra nodded again. “I know. I just can’t figure it out. The girls did a réléver la griffe but got nowhere. I’m going to have to work on it. In the meantime, I’ve been thinking about the rite, and it seems like it would be prudent to get, well, insurance, in a way. Something on our side so Daedalus can’t pull the rug out from under us. Here’s what I was thinking.” She outlined her plan, and both Ouida and Sophie nodded thoughtfully.
“I agree,” said Ouida. “That’s a good idea. I’ll help you.”
“Me too,” said Sophie. “It can’t hurt, and it would be good if we get it.”
“Okay, then.” Petra sat back in her chair. “We’ll go tomorrow. Then … there is one more thing,” she said slowly, wondering if she should even bring it up. She felt Ouida and Sophie watching her and decided to take a chance. “The thing is … Thais is starting to learn a bit of magick. She’s worked a little with Clio and also with me. And … almost every time, her magick goes big and unpredictable.”
Ouida frowned. “What? In what way?”
“It’s hard to say,” Petra continued. “In a way I haven’t seen before. It happens fast. And—they’ve told me—twice, in the middle of a spell, they’ve actually gotten blown across a room. Through a circle and physically across the room.”
Her two friends stared at her.
“Nooo,” Ouida said doubtfully, and Petra nodded.
“I talked to Azura Copeland—the mother of one of Clio’s friends. She was in her house when the girls were out in the their workroom, in the backyard. And from inside the house, she felt a big clap of magick, like lightning, and when she ran out there, the three of them were lying on the floor, in separate corners, stunned.”
“But just ordinary magick?” Sophie asked, looking concerned. “Nothing dark, nothing … dangerous?”
Petra shook her head. “No. I even did a réléver la griffe on Clio. Nothing dark came up at all. They were working relatively small, totally ordinary spells. And then, when Clio was working much harder and bigger spells with Melysa, everything was fine.”
“What are you saying?” asked Ouida. “You think it’s something about Thais?”
Petra hated what was coming next, but she really needed their input. “What if�
�� what if… Thais is a dark twin?”
Petra saw Ouida blink, saw Sophie’s eyes widen.
“Oh God,” Ouida said, a look of dismay on her face.
“That doesn’t happen very often,” Sophie said. “I mean, I’ve never known anyone—”
“I know it’s rare. And I’m hoping it’s impossible,” said Petra grimly. “But how they’re describing Thais’s magick—what else could it be?”
“I’ve met her,” said Ouida. “I didn’t pick up on anything dark from her at all.”
“Me neither,” said Sophie.
Petra shrugged, feeling hopeless. “She might not know it. Not yet. For seventeen years nothing magickal has touched her. Now she’s starting to tap into her powers for the first time. Maybe a crack has appeared in her. Maybe it’s getting worse.”
Ouida shook her head. “I just don’t know. They both felt balanced to me, in the short time I was around them. They both had elements of light and dark, mostly light.”
“I know,” said Petra. “I feel that too. And I don’t really know how a dark twin works. I’ve heard that it’s when the one egg splits, and instead of it separating into two even halves, with both positive and negative forces, one twin gets all the light and one gets all the dark.”
“Which would be bad,” said Sophie.
“Not irredeemable,” said Petra. “Not one hundred percent inevitable, but often bad and always a struggle.”
Ouida looked up at her. “You just moved her into your house.”
“I know. And I’m praying I’m wrong. Most likely I am,” said Petra. “But can you help me, keep an eye on her, get close to her, try to pick up on anything?”
Ouida nodded, looking upset.
“All right,” said Sophie. “I’ll try.”
“Thanks. And whatever happens, do not tell anyone else about this. No one. Understood?”
