The unfamiliar name caused Seremela to pause, until she realized that Xanthe referred to Tiago, the Wyr warlord who had mated with Niniane. She had met Tiago when she had been a medical examiner in Chicago, and she shuddered as she recalled Tiago’s edgy demeanor. He had terrified her—she had no problem whatsoever imagining him taking responsibility for ordering someone’s execution.
The Dark Fae woman was continuing. “It took me the better part of the year to work my way into Thruvial’s household. He fled Adriyel as soon as the borders opened. The trials of his fellow conspirators had shaken him considerably, but it didn’t stop him from committing other distasteful crimes at Devil’s Gate—including sex trafficking, protection and blackmail.”
“He was a horrible man,” Vetta whispered, her head bent.
Seremela murmured gently, “Did he hurt you in any way?”
Vetta looked at her sidelong, and she could tell her niece knew what she was really asking. Vetta shook her head and told her telepathically, “He thought I was disgusting, but he wanted to put me out to customers who were interested in exotic experiences. The last time we talked—fought, actually—he threatened to scar my face if I didn’t do as he said. I’m glad he’s dead.”
Seremela breathed evenly, struggling to contain her rage as she listened. “I’m glad he’s dead too,” she said.
She finished her breakfast, swallowed her last cup of coffee, set the breakfast tray aside and reached for Vetta’s backpack. “Don’t relax too much yet,” she said to her niece who was drooping sideways in her seat. “You need to tell me about this Tarot deck from hell. Who did you steal it from?”
“I don’t know,” Vetta said. “She was just some woman at a rest stop. I lifted it from the back of her car when she went inside the gas station. I could tell it had a tingle of Power. At first I thought it was cool. Then every time I started to lay out a spread for myself, Death kept showing up. Every time, Aunt Serrie. It got so that I couldn’t sleep. I kept checking the cards. Then I started to pray. I was so sure I was going to die.” Her voice broke at the end.
Seremela touched the back of Vetta’s hand in silent sympathy. Vetta watched miserably as Seremela searched through the pack, and Duncan and Xanthe grew quiet to watch too.
The pack didn’t hold anything of much value. A couple packs of Marlboro Reds, a cigarette lighter, a scarf that smelled like patchouli and smoke, some cosmetics, a wallet with Vetta’s I.D. and some cash. It was unusual that nobody had taken the cash or the Tarot cards themselves, but she suspected that employees who worked for Malphas were scrupulously careful about their conduct.
A wooden box lay at the bottom of the pack. She pulled it out and set it on the table. It was clearly the source of the glow of Power. The box’s lid had a hand-painted, stylized face. One side of the face was male, the other side female. It was Taliesin, the god of the Dance.
She opened the box, pulled out the deck of cards and turned over the top one, a Major Arcana card. A picture of a golden woman, in a chariot with seven lions, smiled up at her. Inanna, the goddess of Love. She turned over a few of other cards, and each one was exquisite.
Aside from being an item of Power, the deck was a work of art. Oh, Vetta. She sighed and rubbed her forehead while she studied the deck.
Her initial impression remained the same. Underneath the veneer of quiet Power, the cards held a subtle but remarkable depth. Finally she sat back and shook her head, her mouth tight.
“I have no idea whose magic created this,” she said. “It’s not Light or Dark Fae, Elven, Wyr, Demonkind, human—or anything else I’ve encountered. It’s more Powerful than it looks on the surface, and I’m not even sure what the Power does. Perhaps it’s just meant to be a tool for divination. I don’t know.” She met Duncan’s gaze as she said, “I don’t sense anything overtly offensive in the magic, but I don’t like magic I don’t understand, and I don’t trust it.”
Xanthe reached out to touch one of the cards, her gray eyes wide. She said, “I think they’re beautiful.”
As the tips of Xanthe’s long fingers touched the card, Seremela felt the Power in the deck pull toward the other woman. She said sharply, “Do you feel that?”
All three of the others stared at her and shook their heads. Vetta sat as far back from the deck as she could get, her hands tucked under her arms. Duncan asked, “What did you feel?”
“It’s tugging toward you, like it wants to go to you,” Seremela said to Xanthe.
“Oh please take the deck with you,” said Vetta passionately. “Please take it far, far away.”
Seremela didn’t want to take responsibility for the Tarot deck, and Vetta refused to touch it. Xanthe was willing to take the Tarot deck to Adriyel, to see if she could discover any answers about its origins and its maker from Dark Fae elders, so in the end that was what they decided to do.