The curl turned into a sneer. “Bullshit. If you earn a Cabal curse, you’re fucking important, and you know it.”
Gods dammit. Walter’s confirmation hardened the unease that had been roiling in Grayson’s gut since he’d left Cass. He hated being right. Most considered the Cabal’s existence a cautionary tale about how a group of disenfranchised mages had risen in opposition to the Arcane Families and used corrupted ritualistic spells that twisted science and magic into a fucking nightmare.
“Forget the name. I need to pick your brain.”
“What’s in for me?” Walter asked.
“If your help leads to breaking the curse, I’ll inform my client that a favor is owed.”
“From you as well.”
And this was where it would get sticky, because he was about to make a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. Cass’s panicked face flashed in his mind, and he hoped she would forgive him for this. “From me as well.”
Walter studied him. Grayson could almost follow his thoughts. A Cabal target meant someone powerful, and a favor at that level was worth its weight in gold, no matter what Arcane power it involved. Then there was the fact that to get answers, Grayson would have to share specifics of the casting that, given enough time, Walter could appropriate for his own spells.
Knowledge is a two-edged sword.
“Fine.” Walter dropped his arms and turned away. “Come on up, boy. Don’t got all day.” With that, he disappeared inside.
Ignoring the watching animals, Grayson went up the stairs, slowing when Jack stopped his preening to pin him with a beady-eyed stare. Grayson took the next step, and Jack shifted along the rail, stalking him. Grayson dug into his pocket, brought out a bright-blue piece of polished glass, and held it out. “Is this enough?”
Jack snatched up the shiny piece in his beak and, with a series of pleased caws, hopped back. Free to pass, Grayson reached the screen door, pulled it open, and walked inside.
Chapter 15
Cass
Cass ran, chased by the fear that time was slipping away grain by grain. It piled around her feet as she slogged through the deepening drifts, her chest aching as she tried to suck nonexistent air into her laboring lungs. The grit tore at her bare feet as the path twisted and turned with a feral sentience. Sofia called for her from somewhere up ahead, but no matter how fast Cass ran, the distance remained unchanged. An owl dropped from above with a chilling screech, its vicious talons tearing through the night. She covered her head with her arms and threw herself to the side to escape, but she was too slow, and fire whipped along her forearms. The owl lifted on a deafening whoosh of backdraft that left behind a choking cloud of something foul and circled for another attack.
“Áfise tin!” The ominous echo of her yaya’s voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
The owl veered off with an angry shriek.
Cass scrambled to her hands and knees. She spun in a panicked circle, trying to see through the distorting haze, only to stop when a shimmery, robed figure appeared at the edge of a monstrous forest. It glided toward her as she stumbled back.
“Yaya? Is that you?” Her voice was younger and scared. She inched away, and something rolled underfoot. She hit the ground with a pained grunt.
In less than a breath, the figure was kneeling at her side. “Prosékhste.”
Pay attention to what? She didn’t get a chance to ask, because the cowled head lifted, and the unforgiving faces of the Erinyes from her tarot deck stared back. She pointed a bloodied sword to the left. Cass turned and got her answer. The forest parted to reveal a dark pool where the naiad floated, her sorrowful gaze aimed at the shadowy shore, where silent winds tore through trees, changing the landscape with dizzying speed. The water around her rippled ominously as though something lurked in the depths below.
A chill touch brushed her face as her yaya’s voice gently ordered, “Go back to the start, angel.”
Cass jerked awake so hard she almost fell out of the chair she’d curled into while sitting at Sofia’s bedside. Grayson’s jacket, which she’d been using as a blanket, fell to the floor with a muffled thump. Her gaze went to Sofia, who lay quietly on the bed under a faint glow of copper from the protection spell. The reassuring rise and fall of her chest nudged some of the panic away, but Cass’s heart beat a mile a minute, and her hands shook.
She scrubbed her face, trying to wipe away the remnants of the disturbing dream as she uncurled her legs from their cramped position in the chair. She set her bare feet on the floor, the feel of the cool, hard surface grounding her. She dropped her hands, kept her eyes closed, and stilled her mind as she drew in a couple of deliberate breaths to chase away the shakiness. Resettled, she opened her eyes and looked around, realizing that evening had set in and the room had drifted into dimness. Cass turned on the light on the nightstand and let the soft illumination chase away the gathering shadows.
She went to Sofia and brushed her fingers through her hair. She looks so young. Worry, frustration, and anger battered her heart even as the fear that she was watching history repeat itself lurked at the edges of her mind.
She bent, pressed her lips to her sister’s temple, and whispered, “Hang in there, Sofie.”
There was no response.
Cass straightened and pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to bank her useless tears. Come on, Grayson, hurry back.
Logic told her he was doing the best he could, but she hated the fact that she was stuck waiting for him to get back. She picked up her glasses from the nightstand, set them in place, then turned back to the chair. Cass picked up Grayson’s suit coat from the floor and gave it a small shake to straighten it out. Something heavy weighed down one side. Frowning, she folded it over her arm so she could search the pockets. When she got to the inner pocket, she hit pay dirt and pulled out her grandmother’s letter and gift. Cass laid the jacket at the foot of Sofia’s bed then carried the letter and box with her as she retook her seat.
She set the box on the chair’s padded arm and turned her attention to the letter. She brushed a finger over the wax seal, tracing the hourglass symbol, and absently wondered if her mother had inherited the seal set that Yaya kept at her desk. Then she slid a nail under the edge of the flap, broke the seal, and carefully pulled the letter free of the envelope. Cass set the envelope aside and unfolded the letter. Her grandmother’s familiar loops filled the page.
