We gather around the altar of petrified wood standing at the center of the chamber, and Doc takes a moment to show me the carved pentacle on top. It’s the first I’ve seen it up close like this, and I run my finger over the design, feeling the magick hum beneath my touch.
I nod to show them I’m ready, then we begin, slicing our palms with the ritual athames and letting our blood drip into the grooves of the pentacle. It glows a bright red, then fades.
“Who gathers here as bonded brothers?” Doc asks, beginning the now-familiar invocation.
The rest of us respond: “We, the Keepers of the Grave.”
“Who spills his blood as a symbol of our commitment to one another and in the service and protection of the first?”
“We, the Keepers of the Grave.”
“Who vows, by his life or his death, by his silence or his words, in this and all incarnations henceforth, to protect the one true source?”
“We, the Keepers of the Grave.”
“We, the Keepers of the Grave,” Doc finishes. Then he presses his palm against a rock in the wall, illuminating the alcove that holds the book of reckoning.
We each sign our names in blood, then he places the King of Swords card on top, and we recite the next spell.
Let our thoughts be true, our messages clear
Both words and intent are recorded here
Leave nothing unwritten, no secrets to bear
Among brothers in blood, all things are shared.
The echo of our words fade, and in the space behind Doc, four shadows peel away from the cave wall and waver into view.
I gasp. “The Tarot Princesses are here.”
“Really?” Devane turns to look, but of course he can’t see them. “All four of them? What are they doing?”
“Right now it looks like they’re just observing,” I say as they circle us. “Keeping watch.”
“No, not keeping watch,” Baz says. “They’re protecting you.”
“Thank you,” I tell them, and all four nod.
“Your connection to them must be strong as hell,” Baz says, not realizing that two of them have come to stand on either side of him.
“One of the many magickal mysteries of Stevie Milan.” I smile, but it quickly turns into a laugh.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“Oh, my girls arepissedat you guys.” I’m still laughing, taking great pleasure in the fact that both are glaring at him like a cheating lover caught red-handed.
“I see.” Baz’s usual cocky smirk falters, and he swallows hard. “Which ones are here, did you say?”
“Near you? Just swords and wands. But don’t worry, I’m sure they won’t stab you or set you on fire tonight. Not unless you guys piss me off again.”
Both princesses turn to look at me. Their faces are as stern as ever, but I see the laughter in their eyes.
Fucking girl power. Is there anything better?
Well, maybe for my mages, who are at the moment staring guiltily at their shoes.
I let them suffer a moment longer, then gesture for my Princesses to back off.
