She knew some general things from what the book described. The cards on the left were positive, and the cards on the right were negative. Some cards indicated the future, and some indicated the present or past. But the significance of the specific cards and their relationship to each other was beyond her, and she frankly had no interest in trying to learn more.
But then she discovered a curious thing. The seven Major Arcana, which depicted the seven Elder gods, turned up every time she laid the cards out in a basic spread: Taliesin, the god of the Dance; Azrael, the god of Death; Inanna, the goddess of Love; Nadir, the goddess of the depths or the Oracle; Will, the god of the Gift; Camael, the goddess of the Hearth; and Hyperion, the god of Law. The seven Primal Powers, the Elder Races considered them the linchpins in the universe.
They also showed up when she shuffled the deck and turned the first seven cards over. So she shuffled them again. And then again. And they still showed up.
Not once, or even most of the time.
Every. Fricking. Time.
The book didn’t have a section on this occurrence. She searched online, and eventually found one posting in an obscure forum. Someone had claimed to have turned up all seven of the Major Arcana in a spread and had asked for advice. The discussion had been long, excited and involved, and filled with speculation, but in essence there was only one consensus: the spread indicated an upcoming period of time that would be filled with life-altering significance.
Like that was helpful.
Over the last couple of months, Claudia had developed an obsessive habit of shuffling and flipping over the first seven cards. The only thing that changed was the order in which the seven gods appeared.
Shuffle, flip.
She could probably develop a grift around it, make some money off some poor slob in a bar somewhere. Maybe she should consult with an experienced Tarot reader. For fifty bucks, they would probably tell her that turning up the seven Major Arcana had “life-altering significance”.
Shuffle, flip.
Life altering, like maybe saving a Wyr’s life. One who had been tortured and left for dead. What had been done to him really had been dumb and mean.
Shuffle, flip.
And it wasn’t just one dumb, mean bastard who had done it. Claudia might not have talked much while Jackson had ministered to Luis, but she had clocked the two different-caliber bullets the vet had cut out of him, and both were from rifles. She palmed them and afterward, when she and Jackson had been washing up, she had rinsed the bullets off and slipped them into her pocket.
So there were at least two bastards involved. And like she said earlier, Luis was a big son of a bitch. One big Wyr would be more than a match for Bradshaw Junior and his dumb, mean friends, unless they shot him first.
Shuffle, flip.
So that’s what they did. They shot him first and brought him down. Then they could have tapped him in the back of the head with another well-placed shot, but they hadn’t.
The rest of what they did to him had been for fun.
And Rodriguez knew he was here.
She kept circling back to Rodriguez. Brutal as it sounded, the simple truth was that he would have no need to clean up a mess if it had just been a dog that had been tortured, because a mundane dog couldn’t talk.
No, Rodriguez had to have gotten involved because they knew Luis was Wyr. If Luis survived, he could talk.
And for some reason, it mattered to them that he didn’t.
Chapter Four
The Dance
Even as that last thought went through her mind, she was on her feet and moving out of the trailer, tucking the Glock at the small of her back. She covered her mouth and nose against the blast of sand outside as she strode across the small backyard.
Darkness had fallen and Jackson had turned on the outside lights. The illumination looked murky in the swirling sandstorm. It also looked like he had every light in his house turned on. She banged on his back door and he opened it almost immediately.
He still hadn’t removed his cowboy hat. He gestured for her to step inside and shut the door as soon as she crossed the threshold. “What’s up?”
She turned to face him and said, without preamble, “You need to go visit your daughter in Fresno.”
“Do I?” His faded, intelligent gaze met hers. “I was getting ready to have a poker game. Got six people coming over. They’ll start showing up any minute now. I expect we’re gonna pull an all-nighter if you find you need anything.”
She glanced around the kitchen and expelled a breath. He had brewed a fresh pot of coffee, set out snacks and cards, and pulled the chairs back around the table. Apparently Jackson had been doing more thinking as well. “Wish you’d go to Fresno instead.”
“Like I said earlier, it won’t be good highway driving tonight. Maybe I can leave for Fresno tomorrow, when things are looking a little clearer,” said Jackson. “And when we know that dog is out of the woods.”
“Maybe.”