She came around and met him at the front of the car. “I saw you teaching cane fighting. I’ve never heard of that.”
He flipped the stick and pressed it across her collarbone. “I want to teach you some of the basics. It’s a great weapon, one you can take everywhere.”
She plucked the stick from his grip, hefting it in her hands. “Why would I want to use this when I can become a snarling beast with fangs?”
“Because you can’t do that just anyplace. Even in the dark there’s a chance of being spotted.”
They walked toward the beach, and she ran her fingers down the length of the stick. She might as well have been stroking him again because he could feel her fingers. But it wasn’t his back that he wanted her to touch.
Maybe she was thinking the same thing because she abruptly handed it back to him. “We’re not ugly. You were right; we’re magnificent. If I don’t say so myself.”
He smiled though she couldn’t see it. “Indeed. There’s a rocky history between Deuces and Dragons. The fighting goes back to the gods, who argued about who was the first to hold magick and whose magick was better. They see us as drooling, stinky beasts, and we see them as pompous douche bags.” He didn’t pardon his French.
“Is that why Mon hated you?”
“Part of it.” He found it almost impossible to deceive her. What the hell was wrong with him?
Moonlight shimmered across the water, calling him to fly. He’d fallen a step behind her so he could keep an eye on anything that might sneak up on them. Their feet made shush-shush sounds as they trudged through the thick sand. Ruby had braided her hair though he liked it better loose. The braid probably represented her need for control and order. And her hair was pretty wild. He could easily imagine his fingers tangled in it as he tugged her closer. He remembered burying his face in it, smelling the apple scent of her shampoo. He shifted his gaze seaward again because looking at Ruby in the moonlight called to him even harder than the prospect of flying did.
Not her. Anyone but her. Because he would make good on that promise and introduce her to the man who killed her parents.
She followed his gaze to the waves rolling in only a few feet away. “You were a pirate, weren’t you?”
Her question surprised him. “Why do you ask that?”
She stopped and faced him, and the moonlight kissed her cheeks, casting her eyes in shadow. “The pirate memorabilia you have all over your dojo. If you’re that old—”
“I’m not old enough to have been a pirate. They were in the area in the sixteen hundreds to the early seventeen hundreds, right around the time I was born. But my Spanish ancestors were. I’ve tracked down some of the booty they availed themselves of.”
“A pirate heritage. Figures.”
“Why do you say that?” He forced himself to continue walking, digging the stick into the sand.
“It fits you, that’s all.” She fell into step beside him. “Dark, dangerous.”
Murderer.
A few minutes later, Cyn pointed to one of the homes. “This is his place.” It was hard to miss the stained glass windows, even in the dark. “Quiet. Whoever put the parasite on him could be here waiting. Once we’re in the privacy of the yard or the house, you can Catalyze if necessary.”
She followed him up a trail toward the sixties-era house, with its slanted roof. Moonlight spilled onto the concrete deck but left shadows behind the many plants. A dim light was on inside the house, and music floated through the air. His nostrils flared as he sensed the area. He picked up nothing human, Crescent, or magick. He broke one of the rear windows and pulled open the door.
“It’s clear.”
She grimaced. “Smells musty. Did he really go crazy? He looked crazy.” Revulsion reverberated in her voice.
“After your parents died, he went crazy with grief. With impotency.” He flicked on a light switch.
“He had ED? Do I really need to know this?”
He laughed despite himself. “I forget that word is now used for sexual issues. It’s damned irritating when society changes what a word means. Gay. Bitch. Ass. Somehow they gained different meanings.” He opened the fridge, finding no stores of food. “Imagine having the power to see the future and then not being able to save those who mean the most to you.”
“Leo said something about him saving a bunch of people.”
Cyn nodded. “His failure to save Justin and your mom pushed him over the edge.”
“And sent him to a mental hospital. I never heard from him, not even on Christmas or my birthday.”
And that hurt. He could hear it in her voice. “But now you know that he was actually trying to protect you.”
Her pained expression softened. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
He moved through Brom’s house, small by beachfront standards. Most homes of this era had been razed and replaced by ostentatious monstrosities. Some of the old Crescents relished the past and kept them as they were.
“What the heck?” Ruby said behind him, as she must have also seen the claw-foot tub in the middle of the formal living room. It was filled with water and a large glass prism.
“Brom had this set up when I brought you to him all those years ago. When he saw the vision, and your father didn’t want to believe it, Brom insisted they consult a guy Justin befriended at college. Jay had figured out a way to see the Deus Vis. Normally it looks like ribbons shifting like kelp in a gentle ocean current. A solar storm will make it fluctuate, so it’s less stable. But Brom said when he checked it, the ribbons were vibrating so hard they were almost breaking apart. He called it fracturing.”
Cyn picked up the long black light on the floor and flicked the switch. He held the light over the surface, bringing ribbons inside the water to life. Disintegrating ribbons. “This is why Brom came back. He must have had another vision about the Deus Vis fracturing, returned to Miami, and put this together to confirm it.”
Ruby stared at the ribbons. “So whatever my father was doing all those years ago is happening again.”
“Looks like it. Mr. Smith wanted to make sure Brom couldn’t stop him this time.”
She met his gaze across the tub. “This is what keeps us alive, right? So if these ribbons fracture, a lot of people could die.”
He snapped the light off. “Will die.”
Suddenly this was bigger than Ruby, demons, and Moncrief’s death. They remained there for several seconds as that sank in.
Finally she blinked and looked down, then reached for a journal that was lying next to a pen. She flipped through the pages. “It’s blank, like Mon’s book. Does this mean he’s dead?”
“Moncrief’s book was created with illusion. It looks like Brom was writing in this.” Cyn searched the pages with his hands. “I feel magick. He’s hidden whatever he wrote. Did Brom try to touch you?”
“Yes.” Her mouth twisted in disgust. “He reached out like he was going to grab me.”
Yeah, she must have really thought he was mad. “Brom can impart his visions to others through touch. That may be the only way he can communicate with us. We need to find him.” He grabbed his walking stick. “Let’s go.”
They headed back down the beach, and once they were a distance from the house, he called Kade. “It’s Cyntag. Apologies for calling so early in the morning. I require your Deuce expertise. I’ve got a book I need deciphered.”
Kade’s voice was husky with sleep. “Is it in code?”
“It’s hidden. It belongs to Brom Winston.”
“The Brom Winston?”
“Yes, and you didn’t hear that name from me.”