“What did you do?” asked Bergman.
“I gathered together a short list of ingredients, common items you can find in most pantries. When it was mixed and ready, it resembled a small bowl of brick-colored concrete. I sat inside a protective circle and painted the Mark around my eyes. Then I pricked my finger and let the blood drip all around me as I spoke the words of summoning.”
“What came?” I asked, half suspecting she’d describe the Magistrate.
“A demoness. I have rarely seen such beauty. And yet she horrified me. Does that make any sense?”
“Oh yeah.”
So Cassandra made a deal with the devil, who took Anastas Ocacio for a long, bumpy ride that left him screaming for mercy. “It took them three days to find all the pieces of him,” Cassandra finished. “And by the fourth I had found my way off the island. I had also found a holy man.”
“So he removed the Mark?” Dave asked.
“No. But he blessed the water that I washed my eyes with. And he gave me a special prayer that protects me against the demon’s return. As long as I do those two things every day as soon as I wake, I’m fine.”
“Wait a second,” said Cole. “Do you mean to say you’ve been washing your face with holy water for the last four centuries?”
“Yes.”
“Without fail?”
“Yes.”
“Or else the demon will come get you?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. I’m trying to remember the last time I did anything for even a month straight.”
“You shave.”
He scratched at his beard. “Usually.”
“You brush your teeth.”
“That’s true.”
“It is that routine for me.”
“You know what? I think I’ll avoid demons anyway.”
Cassandra nodded, the ghost of a smile flitting across her face. “It’s probably for the best.”
Bergman said, “So it sounds like Jaz just needs to wash the spot with holy water. Except” — he looked at me — “do you even know where the spot is?”
I thought of the Magistrate poking a finger at my forehead. And my mom rubbing my noggin raw as she said plaintively, “It won’t come out.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I believe I do.”
Chapter Nine
After a brief intermission during which I anointed my own forehead, learned Cassandra’s prayer, and felt suitably guilty for not summoning a minister to oversee the whole shebang despite the obvious danger it would’ve caused her — I moved on to the next order of business.
“So, now that the Magistrate can’t come after me, why do you think he let me go the way he did? Why make me think Matt rescued me?”
“It depends what he knows about you,” said Dave. “Looking at it from a military perspective at least, you’ve got to wonder what he stands to gain from your release if he thinks you’re just some girl as opposed to —”
“A Sensitive who has died twice and been brought back twice by Raoul. To fight for Raoul.”
“So, assuming the Magistrate somehow has access to your background, how much do we really know about Raoul?” asked Dave. We looked at each other. Not a lot. There was that undercurrent that, when you started to translate it into words, began to erode. And made you look idiotic for trusting it. All we really knew for sure was that he was a force for good in the world. That we worked for him. And now I might be in trouble as a result.
I reached into my jacket for my cards. I wished I could shuffle them, but for now it would have to be enough just to hold them in my hand and pace. “Okay, let’s put ourselves in the demon’s head if we can. What do they always want?”
“Souls,” everybody chorused.
“He could’ve had mine easy. I was good and stuck, but he let me go.”
“Bait for the bigger fish?” suggested Dave.
“As in Raoul?” I asked. “If I thought Matt was working for Raoul in another capacity, would I go running back to him, demanding an explanation? Yeah, maybe. Even if it meant certain death for me. In which case, the Magistrate could easily follow me, because of the Mark. He could grab Raoul while he was sitting there with his defenses down and, no doubt, take me along with him.”
“Should you warn him?”
I frowned at my brother. “Don’t you two ever talk?”
He suddenly found the curtain rod fascinating. “This is the job I was meant to do. I figure if he has a problem with my performance he’ll let me know.”
Okay. So maybe Dave was more of a consultant. Like Bergman. And Raoul was waiting for just the right time to access his skills. Which might take forever if they had to actually talk. Because communication is such a two-edged sword for guys. On the one hand, they almost always mean what they say. Refreshing, I know. On the other hand, getting them to actually say it can be like coaxing a corpse to tap dance. Not that it can’t be done. But it’s so freaking exhausting. Not to mention the cost in heavyweight fishing line and Savion Glover videos.
I sighed. “Yes, I’ll speak to him. By the way, Grace isn’t your mole. Vayl and I have been taking turns watching her almost since we arrived. We found her behavior the most . . . suspect,” I told him, feeling slightly apologetic now I knew she was innocent. An ass, yes, but a loyal one. “She hasn’t been in this room at all.”
“So who do we have left?” Dave murmured sadly. “The mole is either Cam, Jet, or Natchez.” He went to the bench and sank down onto it, clasping his hands between his knees, staring at the ornate carpet. Cassandra followed, sat beside him.
“Can you tell us more about these men?” she asked.
“What about you?” he snapped. “Why can’t you just tap them and tell who’s betrayed me?”
She flinched, almost as if he’d hit her. “I’m sorry,” he said instantly. “I just can’t believe . . . you can’t imagine what we’ve been through together.”
“Our original plan was for me to try to divine their purposes,” Cassandra assured him. “Unfortunately, something happened to me the moment I touched you. I was afraid to speak. And I wasn’t sure until I linked with Jasmine just now. And nothing happened. Then I knew. I’ve gone muddled.”
I guess we were all kind of gaping at her like seals at the zoo, hoping for a jaw full of fish. Tears sprang to her eyes. “It’s not something over which I have any control. One doesn’t plan for these things!”
“What do you mean by muddled?” I asked.
Cassandra tended to play with her hands when nervous. Since she wore multiple rings on her long, slender fingers, it was a wonder little golden circlets weren’t popping off her knuckles like tiddlywinks. She darted one glance at Dave and then refused to look at him anymore as she told me, “Sometimes a Seer who is overwhelmed by a strong emotion becomes so inundated by all the wonderful possibilities that emotion opens up to her that she can See no other visions. That is what has happened to me.”
It took me about a half a second to get it, and then, oh baby, did I! “You mean —”
“Yes,” she interrupted, “exactly.”
“I don’t get it,” said Cole. He moved to sit on the valet chair. His costume looked odd to me, though his beige-and-white-striped shirt and olive-green pants weren’t that different from any of the other guys’. Then I realized I was missing the red high-tops he typically wore. “Are you, like, too scared to See?” he asked her.
“No.”
“Then what is it?” asked Bergman.
Cassandra gave me a pleading look.
I shook my head, too unsure of how I felt about the event to actually describe it aloud. “I think you’re going to have to tell them,” I said.
“Now?”
Dave took Cassandra’s hand in his. Her eyes went wide and a bemused sort of half smile spread across her face as he said, “Look, I’d appreciate anything you can do. Wondering which one of my brothers stabbed me in the back is pretty much killing me.”