‘Mémé,’ Rafael said with a tone of warning in his voice.
She still ignored him, staring at the cards, her eyes intense.
Ari had already selected another card. The Star, a naked woman with long white hair flowing around her, one foot in the water and the other on land, pouring water from two jugs. A feeling of relief swept through her until the old woman took it from her and laid it upside down on the Hanged Man.
‘A drowning,’ she murmured darkly. ‘Another one.’
Ari didn’t want to play this game anymore. Her hand shook over the cards.
‘Enough,’ said Rafael, and this time he really did sound distressed.
And yet, she knew she had to do it. It was inevitable. Ari flicked over the final card and knew, even before she saw it, what it would be.
A man in black sat on a barge, a wide black hat on his head, a scythe in his hand. And his face was a skull.
Death. It had to be.
‘Ankou,’ said Madame du Lac. Her hands trembled and she knotted them together, as if in prayer. ‘Oh, children, what have you stirred up?’
‘Mémé, please, stop it,’ her great-nephew told her firmly. ‘Someone has drowned. This isn’t funny.’
A shiver of transformation seemed to pass over her, as if something magical drained out of her, all the power and strength in her leaving.
‘Drowned?’ In that moment, she looked so confused, so very old and frail. ‘Who? Rafael? Who was it?’ she urged.
‘A friend of ours,’ said Jason gently, masking the trembling in his voice. ‘Thierry Jacquet. He was one of the divers who found the mask. We don’t know what happened.’
‘He was at thefest nozlast night,’ Ari added. She reached out and grabbed her brother’s hand and for once he didn’t pull away.
‘We were all there together,’ he continued. ‘But I didn’t see him when I left. I thought he’d already gone back. God, I should have checked, shouldn’t I? I should have done something.’
‘It wasn’t your fault, Jason.’
‘I’m meant to be in charge of this. That’s what you said. That I should act like it? That’s what you meant. Safety is one of the main priorities in any dive and I failed—’
‘You weren’t on a dive. It’s not your fault.’ She pulled him into a hug and he stiffened in surprise and then abruptly relaxed. She felt him shake against her, his breath cut by grief. She’d never seen him like this.
‘I wasn’t with Simon either. I was away, in Paris. If I’d been here…’
‘It’s OK, Jason,’ she whispered. And she meant it. It surprised her as much as anything. Jason hadn’t caused the deaths, not Thierry’s and not Simon’s either, and she had blamed him for far too long.
‘If I’d been here…’
Who knew if he could have done anything? If Dahut had taken her fiancé, enchanted him, made him love her and then killed him…
She shook the thought away. The spear of pain inside her didn’t need awakening now.
‘It’s OK. It wasn’t your fault. Not then. Not now.’
They were good words. Other people had said them to her often enough after Simon’s death that she almost believed them. Except for all the ways she didn’t. But she had no idea Jason had felt the same way.
A noise reminded her that they were not alone. They weren’t even somewhere private. They were in someone else’s home. Madame du Lac was rummaging in a sewing basket in the corner and Rafael stood beside her, looking quietly mortified. The old woman pulled out two little pouches and then brought them over, pressing one into Ari’s hand and one into Jason’s, wrapping her hand over theirs and muttering a prayer as she did so. Ari couldn’t make out the words.
Her eyes glistened with tears. ‘Keep them safe,’ Madame du Lac said at last. ‘And they will keep you safe. Rafi, I would like to lie down. I am exhausted. Help me.’
Rafael didn’t argue but cast Ari a helpless glance, an apology perhaps. He closed the door behind them, but not quickly enough.
‘Salut,’ a voice said quite loudly, while the main door slammed. Laure, she realised, home from whatever errand had called her away, obviously. The greeting was followed by a hushed exchange between her, Rafael and Madame du Lac which Ari probably couldn’t have followed even if she had been able to hear it properly. It didn’t matter. She didn’t really care. They were probably just telling her what had happened and she didn’t want to hear it rehashed again, no matter what language it was in.
