A man hangs upside down by one ankle.
His face is serene and he wears a halo—the picture of self-sacrifice.
Upright: wisdom, circumspection, discernment, divination, prophesy
Reversed: selfishness, busyness, unproductiveness, stagnation
Mademoiselle DuBois answers the door of her apartment. She sees Pax, pouts, and hinges one knee on the doorframe, her silky gown draping to both sides. She slides down, eases her head back. “Welcome back.”
It is absolutely over the top, and it absolutely works for her.
Pax jams his hands in his pockets to give himself a little breathing room, with hopes that she’s forgotten what an easy target he can be.
“You,” she says, eyes flashing devilishly. “You stole my William.”
Pax grins and narrows his silver-green eyes, and Mademoiselle shifts a bit, too.
Two can play this game. It rather requires two, in fact.
“I’m here to steal you, too,” he says.
Ugh—the disgust and fury I feel! I simply cannot watch where this “conversation” leads. I leave them be.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The next day, we’re wrapping up our readings at Julia’s Bureau, awaiting word from Clarice DuBois on whether she has sweet-talked our way into Max Blanck’s party. I don’t know what transpired at Mlle DuBois’s apartment last evening, but this morning, Pax was in high spirits, reporting simply, “She’s in.”
I’m not sure what I expected: Pax slinking in, guilty and leaden? He doesn’t seem to be either of those things. Nor is he jubilant, boastful. I’m driving myself mad, trying to interpret every little grin of his, the way his hair falls into his eyes when he examines his fingernails. I agreed to this; nay, Iencouragedthis.
No. I exhale. I don’t care. All of this is temporary. I chose revenge.
I relax as much as I knowhowto relax. Being here, at the Bureau, helps. I’ve come to love our little storefront. Kiyoko, Nirav, and William spent hours slicing intricate, lacy patterns into thin rice paper. They completely covered our four front windows with it, and the whole room glows with a soft, tan light, the color of green tea. The holes in the paper allow beams of light to dance about the room, and the effect is rather like being inside a starburst.
The clockworks lady next door, Miss Willamina, gave us some of her sagging, decrepit shelves, which I reinforced with anail here, a dab of glue there, and affixed to our walls. They are now lined with row after row of gem-colored bottles, offering our clients an array of soothing potions.
Aye, by potions she means gin and mescal and rum, don’t she?
I grin.Relief takes many forms, I remind Spirit. We offer tins of tea as well, which is not only a great comfort to our guests, but also allows us to read the tea leaves for those customers who need to see “proof” of the messages we pass along.
There are several small, squat tables adorned with crystal balls and colorful tarot cards and Ouija boards. These are all for show, of course; many clients need distraction as they receive messages from the beyond. Velvet curtains line the wall between us and the clockworks shop, and the lush fabric muffles all but the deepest, most booming of the chiming clocks. I honestly think the effect adds quite a lot to our readings; it gives an air of urgency:Time is running out, don’t you feel it? Act!
We burn heady incense to mask the smells wafting from the horse stalls next door, and the earthy tendrils of smoke provide a sleepy, calming atmosphere.
Sleepy and calming except for Pax. His pacing plants a seed of compassion for him deep within me, and it reminds me of our singular focus: revenge. Everything else is extraneous. Unimportant.
Pax works his jaw, cracks his knuckles. “Do you think Blanck will add us to his roster? We’re not exactly well-known.”
“Yes, Pax.” Kiyoko grins at him, bemused. “We. And what is it, exactly, thatyoudo?”
The distraction works: Pax chuckles. “I’m your manager.” Damn, he’s confident.
“I don’t need managing,” Kiyoko is quick to fire back. “What else you got?”
He thinks for a moment, his expressions exaggerated like he’s starring in a nickelodeon film, like he’s considering,Do I have anything else I can offer?He winks at Nirav.
Nirav giggles. Spirit flickers the lamplight.
“Ah! How about this?” He strides toward me, lifting a cane chair en route, and spins it. He sets it in front of me and straddles it.
