“What do you mean?” Her fingers stilled. “Do you think he has obsessive-compulsive tendencies?”
“He might. He’s undeniably bright and capable of a great deal of organization, so he also might be able to hide his true nature under an appearance of normality. The ability of concealment that some psychopaths have is what psychiatrist Hervey Cleckley referred to when he first coined the term ‘mask of sanity’ in 1941.” Gideon took a deep breath and forced himself to continue. “A lot of details from Jacksonville have never been released because the killer hasn’t yet been caught. He held the group prisoner and executed one a day. They were killed in alphabetical order.”
He noted the moment that realization struck. She sucked in a harsh, shaking breath and looked up again. Then he couldn’t hold back any further. He strode over to take hold of her slender shoulders in a firm, reassuring grip.
“Which is not going to happen this time,” he said strongly into her whitened face. “It’s also quite apparent that the number seven has a great deal of significance for him.”
“It’s significant to all the Elder Races,” Alice murmured. “Seven demesnes in the U.S., seven Primal Powers or gods.”
“The previous murders occurred in the days leading up to the Festival of the Masque,” Gideon continued. “So we think that the seven gods have some particular meaning for him. He murdered seven people in seven days. Now, seven years later, the murders have started again. He excavates seven organs from his victims—the liver, gall bladder, pancreas, the two kidneys, the spleen, and he goes up under the rib cage to remove the heart. And he places the organs in a distinct pattern, although we haven’t figured out what the significance of that is yet.”
His hands on her shoulders were massive and warm. She gripped his forearms, and the feeling of his warm skin over solid muscle steadied her again. Her mind arrowed back to that terrible stillness in Haley’s apartment, but when she recalled the gaping dark red hole in Haley’s midsection she froze and couldn’t force herself to go any further.
She said through gritted teeth, “I can’t see it. I don’t remember. Does he always use the same pattern?”
He hesitated and his striking pale eyes searched her face. He said heavily, “Yeah. The heart is in the center, with the other organs set around it.”
She frowned up at him, her mouth held so tight her lips were bloodless. “How are they positioned?”
She could see him warring with the impulse to protect her from the details. Finally he said, “He puts the liver at twelve o’clock, spleen at six, and the gall bladder and pancreas at three and nine o’clock respectively.”
“The four directions,” she said.
“Excuse me?” he asked, taken aback. Her gaze was still trained on him but he didn’t think she saw him.
“Seven gods. Seven. Four. Two.” She asked, “Where does he place the two kidneys?”
His expression grew intent. “On either side of the liver, at the top of the circle.”
“I know that pattern,” Alice said. “I use it all the time.”
He stared at her. His grip on her shoulders tightened. Then he let her go and stepped back. “Show me.”
She rushed from the kitchen. Gideon strode after her, watching her mutter to herself. She moved down the short hall and flipped on a light to the front bedroom. She had turned it into a home office, with a computer desk and chair against one wall, and a futon set in a couch position against another wall. Like Haley, Alice had pulled out boxes of Masque decorations. They were set in the middle of the floor. She dropped to her knees in front of one box and dug through it.
“It’s a silly hobby of mine,” she said over her shoulder. “I don’t really know a lot about it. I just dabble, not like some people. Every year we hold a Winter Solstice Masque as a fundraiser for the school. I give Tarot readings—I use the Primal Tarot, of course, not any of the European decks. Those came later, around the fifteenth century, I think. The Primal Tarot is much, much older. I only know half a dozen of the most used card spreads.”
He rubbed the back of his neck as he listened to her rapid speech. “You’re talking about fortune telling?”
She emerged from the cardboard box with a smaller hand-painted wooden box clutched in one hand. Her cheeks flushed. “Actually, historically it was used for divination and considered a serious religious matter. If it was done in a prayerful manner, it was supposed to be a way for the gods to speak to us,” she said. “It was only in the nineteenth century that it became more like the fortune telling one might find at a carnival. I don’t have any Power for real divination nor do I practice it as a religion. I just do a carnival-like show. I can make twenty-five bucks for a fifteen-minute reading. It’s very popular at school. Usually I end up with several hundred dollars at the end of the night.”
“Okay,” he said. He squatted in front of her. “Why don’t you show me what you’re talking about?”
She sat cross-legged on the carpet, opened the box and pulled out an old deck of cards. Gideon settled on the floor opposite her. He picked up the box that she had put to one side. It was made of cedar and a faint Power thrummed gently in his hands, old Power that had saturated the aged wood. He considered the painting on the top. It was white and royal blue and gold, with outlines of black and a small highlight of crimson. The colors must have been brilliant once, but they had faded over time. The painting was of a stylized face. One side was male and the other side female.
“This is Taliesin, right?” he asked. He wasn’t very religious, but he knew at least that much. To the Elder Races, the seven Primal Powers were the linchpins of the universe. Each Power had a persona, or a mask of personality. Both male and female, Taliesin was the first among the gods of the Elder Races, the Supreme Power to which all others bowed.
“Yes,” Alice said. “Isn’t it amazing? The whole deck is hand-painted. I found it in an antique store about twelve years ago.” She touched the corner of the box as he held it. “I fell in love and ended up paying far too much for it. I ate a lot of macaroni and cheese that year.”
He set the box aside with care and turned his attention to Alice.
“The Primal Tarot has forty-nine cards in the deck,” she said. “The Major Arcana in this Tarot are the seven gods in their prime aspects—or how most people know of them.” She set the first card on floor between them and named it. “Taliesin, the god of the Dance, is first among the Primal Powers because everything dances, the planets and all the stars, other gods, ourselves. Dance is change, and the universe is constantly in motion. Then there’s Azrael, the god of Death; Inanna, the goddess of Love; Nadir, the goddess of the depths or the Oracle—legend has it that Nadir is the one who gave the Primal Tarot to the Elder Races.”
“When was that supposed to have happened?” he asked.
“Around the third century, or at least that’s the age of the earliest known Primal Tarot. Then there is Will, the god of the Gift; Camael, the goddess of the Hearth; and Hyperion, the god of Law.”
He studied each card as she laid them out, the famous green eyes of Death, the seven royal lions that pulled Inanna’s chariot, the dark sense of vastness captured in the stars in Nadir’s gaze. The cards were arresting but not quite beautiful. They were too uncomfortable for that.
He murmured, “Someone with real Power used these once.”
“I think it’s the person who created them,” Alice said. “The rest of the cards are the Minor Arcana. The gods have their major aspects, and then they have all their minor aspects. Take Azrael. Death is his major aspect, but in the Tarot deck, he has six other minor aspects. He’s also the god of regeneration and green growing things, and he’s known as the Hunter, and he’s also the Gateway or passage. See?”