Lucas bows low. “As you command, Your Highness.”
Normally, Pulpitum travel means locking hands on each other’s shoulders. On this trip, Lincoln wraps his arm around my waist while Connor sulks on the opposite side of the platform. Works for me.
“On my signal,” calls Lucas. “3, 2, 1.”
The Pulpitum rocks and bucks as we zoom even deeper through the earth. Visions of rock, stone, and magma flash by us as we careen toward the Elder’s Chamber. After a few minutes, we come to a stop inside a great, darkened space made of purple stone.
My breath hitches. This is it. The Striga Elders and, with any luck, some answers about how we can get Maxon back.
The Elder’s Chamber is a marvel of a room with angled walls that—if you’re looking from on high—form the shape of a great pentagram. We stand at very the center of the space, so we have a direct view into each pentagram-point. In every corner, an Elder stands in a pool of indigo light. I count four men and one woman, Elder Faustina. She hobbles toward us with a stooped back and craggy cane, her long white dreads dragging behind her.
“The Elders greet you.” Faustina speaks in what sounds like an Italian lilt, but since she’s been alive since ancient Rome was the new kid on the peninsula, I’m pretty sure the accent’s all her own.
Faustina gestures to Connor’s manacles. “You don’t need those-a here.” The chains instantly fall away.
“Thank you, Elder Faustina,” says Connor.
“Don’t thank-a me yet.” Faustina starts chanting in Latin, and the other Elders join in. I don’t catch all the words, but they say something about the bringer of light and power.
And then, a light appears.
An orb of gentle lilac-colored brightness descends from the ceiling, slowly lowering until it hovers at shoulder level. Inside this gleaming sphere sits a golden circlet decorated with angel wings.
Lucifer’s crown.
Faustina hobbles up to the enchanted circle of gold, touching it with her left hand. The orb pulses with violet light. With her right hand, Faustina draws a large circle in the air. Her finger leaves a trail of purple brightness that hovers in the semi-darkness.
“I try to see the truth, Connor.” She shakes her head sadly. “I conjure a Looking Glass many times.” She steps up to the circle in the air, and its surface glistens with lavender light. “Show me the boy.”
My heart cinches. The Looking Glass fills with the image of Maxon at his play date, running and laughing. On reflex, I glance at the magical oval on my own wrist. Maxon sits upright, his eyes all white, same as before. I exhale with relief. He’s still protected.
Faustina shakes her head. “See? The boy at play comes-a easily.” She gestures across her Looking Glass. “Now, show me what seals Connor’s tongue.”
The interior of the Looking Glass turns into a dripping sheet of blood. My stomach twists as the grisly sight. “I always see this,” says Faustina. “Blood.” She hobbles closer to Connor. “Speak!”
“I…It…” Connor’s face turns the same odd purple hue that happened when Lincoln interrogated him before. He’s clearly struggling to breathe.
“I know who worships blood.” Faustina steps closer, glaring into Connor’s eyes. “Black magic, right?”
“What is it?” I ask breathlessly. “Do you know who’s behind this?”
“Yes.” Faustina’s wrinkled mouth twists into a sneer. “Sakura.”
“That’s right,” says Lincoln. “Myla heard the name Sakura in the Amber Cathedral.”
Faustina waves her hand, and Connor starts to breathe again. “Sakura,” says Faustina. “From the House of Taizo.” Her heavy-lidded eyes narrow. “Do you know her?”
“I can’t say,” replies Connor quickly.
“Maybe you know of a geisha witch, then?” asks Faustina. “She wears a white kimono. It drip-a with blood.”
Connor tries to speak, but his words catch in his throat again.
“I thought as much,” says Faustina. She grins, showing a mouth of missing and cockeyed teeth.
My heart slams against my chest. Faustina’s making some progress here, but I don’t understand a damned thing she’s saying. I force myself to bow low at the waist. “With all respect, Elder Faustina, what does this mean?”
“It means-a this.” Faustina points to Lucifer’s crown. “Striga magic comes from Heaven. For House of Taizo, it comes from blood. Death.” She circles Connor like a wolf stalking its prey. “They were a powerful House once, Taizo. But they find the best blood magic come-a from killing each other. First a hundred Taizo, then fifty, then ten, then one. The geisha with the kimono that drips with blood. She became the most powerful of all. Sakura. She cast this spell. She seals your tongue. We are old enemies, her and I. You speak now?”