“Brilliant.” Jack shot me a proud grin. “Very intelligent observation. Perhaps I can only see the scars Imyselfhave created? So other scars caused by other means are invisible to me, but your GUTs would use any available scar. This would explain why I only recently began to see the scars, but you have all clearly been drawing power from the shadow world your entire lives.”
“Okay. So let’s say Jackiscreating scars in the fabric of our reality, and we’re drawing power through these scars. Why, then, does the power flow harmlessly sometimes and other times spit out Chucky-slime?” Branwell frowned, obviously puzzled.
Jack paused. “I don’t know. The Chucky-slime could be part of the membrane between the two worlds.”
“Or a force that inhabits the supernatural world that is trying to break free or cause problems.” Tennyson offered.
We discussed the idea back and forth. Dante wanted a closer moment-by-moment replay of my experience the night before. We all wanted a clearer understanding of what he and Branwell had seen with Cesareil Pompaso. But all the talking got us nowhere.
“We still haven’t answered our original question,” Dante said after a while, lacing his fingers behind his head. “How does all this relate to Chiara and her possibly having a GUT of her own?”
“Well, that’s obvious.” Jack smiled at me. “If you are the descendants of Tages, then your GUTs are truly genetic. No gypsy curse needed. Which means that Chiara, as someone who shares your genetics, has a GUT, too. The scars flutter open for her just as they open for you. It confirms my theories about the origins of your gifts.”
“But does it?” Branwell sounded skeptical. “I’m not convinced we should simply abandon the gypsy connection to our GUTs. It’s such a prevalent part of our family’s oral history, it seems impossible that it was all simply a hoax.”
Jack shrugged. “I think there are other compelling reasons to believe the connection to Etruscan oracles.”
“Explain.”
“The oracles of Tages generally chose to use one of three things when making their predictions.” Jack held up three fingers.
“They used the entrails of sacrificed animals.” Jack ticked off one finger. “We obviously haven’t had any interaction with that.”
Thank goodness.
“The second thing Etruscans could use.” Jack ticked another finger. “Birds and bird flight patterns. Well, we don’t have much to go on with that either.”
The chill started at the base of my spine. How many times had I observed birds and justknownwhat they meant? My throat was too tight to say anything.
“And last . . .”
I knew it, before he could even say a word.
“Lightning,” I breathed.
Jack’s eyes swung to mine. “Yes. Lightning.”
A thousand thoughts scattered through my brain. I knew why lightning had such a powerful emotional hold over me, but did I see meaning in it, too? Was that why Babbo had focused on it so much?
“Entrails. Birds. Lightning.” Dante repeated the three items.
“Yes.” Jack moved away, walking toward the large doors onto the balcony. “I think that the lightning, in particular, is related to one last item we haven’t explored yet.”
“Which is?”
“Chiara’s odd sleepwalking.” Jack turned back to us. “If you are descendants of Tages, then you are oracles, including Chiara. This encompasses speaking for and to the dead. It’s entirely possible that the dead are trying to talk to us through her. Chiara could be acting as a medium.”
“The dead?” Branwell repeated.
“Like who?” Dante went straight to the most critical question.
Jack hesitated, throwing a look back toward me. But I knew the answer before he said the words.
The truth of them already lodged soul-deep.
“Cesare. Your father.”
TWENTY
