Instinctively she brushed her thumb across his skin, light as a feather.
Gabriel hissed as if she’d stung him.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “Just… looking for the vein. If you’d hold still, I—”
“For fuck’s sake, Jacinda.” He grabbed the blade off the table and sliced his wrist. “Now tell me how it works.”
She shoved the bowl underneath, catching the slow trickle of blood. “Depending on how powerful the witch was and how long ago she bound the curse, I’m hoping I can pick up the magical signature in your blood.”
“And what will that do?”
“Think of magic like threads of energy, and spells or curses like tapestries woven from many different threads. The key to unraveling a curse lies in singling out each thread, then counteracting them with a different kind of magic—something that will either alter, minimize, or neutralize the curse.”
“Why would we want to do anything other than eliminate it?”
Jaci smirked. “Afraid I’ll turn you into a frog, Prince?”
His eyes widened. “Can you actually do that?”
“Not sure yet. Ask me again in fifteen minutes.” She tried to match the vampire’s deadly cool, but the look of terror in his eyes had her cracking up in a matter of seconds.
At her ridiculous outburst, a tiny smile flickered across Gabriel’s mouth, making him look more human than she’d ever seen him.
Again, her heartbeat fluttered.
Again, he gave her the arched brow, no doubt sensing his effect on her.
Damn it.
Dropping her gaze, Jaci grabbed the Tarot cards and began shuffling, willing her cheeks not to blush.
“So you truly can’t break it?” Gabriel asked softly, more disappointed than angry.
“I told you the other day, I’m no expert in curses. But I do know that blood curses are generally permanent unless you know who cast them. In that case, destroying the caster would break the curse, but that’s not an option for us.” She gave him a reassuring smile, still not meeting his eyes. They saw too much, those eyes. Too deep. “The good news is, that doesn’t mean we can’t save you from the worst effects.”
“But—”
“Quiet, Prince. I need to concentrate.”
Like a scolded schoolboy, the vampire clamped his mouth shut and went completely still—so still she didn’t think he was even breathing. Outside, the soundtrack of St. Mark’s raged on—blaring horns, garbage trucks crashing over potholes, the warble and flutter of pigeons fighting over stale bread. But in the intimate space of the apartment, there was only the slow drip and splash of his blood into the bowl and the frenzied heartbeat thudding in her ears.
Taking a deep breath, Jaci fanned her cards out across the table, then ran her hand over the spread, selecting three that felt immediately hot to the touch.
She turned over each one, studying them intently.
The Devil reversed came first. On the card’s face, a horned beast howled into the night, lost in the ecstasy of his animalistic passions. Two sensual angels clung to him, enraptured. At their feet, a cauldron of blood bubbled over an open flame, reminding her at once of the bowl holding Gabriel’s blood. In the reversed position, the message was one of obsession, destruction, and enslavement rather than unbridled passion. It was all the confirmation she needed that his curse was demonic magic, binding him in ways that went far beyond the reverse evolution he feared.
Swallowing hard, she examined the next card—the Eight of Knives. It featured another horned beast, demonic in nature, this one chained to a wooden post and standing thigh-deep in a poisonous swamp. Behind him, ravens picked clean the bones of those who’d been chained long ago. The card always spoke to Jaci of imprisonment. Despite the irony of her situation, she knew at once the prison here was Gabriel’s, not her own. Unless he found a way to break free, the curse would trap him, body and mind. Already he felt the walls closing in around him as the threat of torment and death drew near.
The last card—Three of Grails reversed—had her stumped. The image was of two women embracing a man before another huge cauldron of blood, all of them sharing in its life-giving delights. In its upright position, the card usually conjured up feelings of sisterhood and friendship, though Jaci rarely drew this one. The reversal made her feel like a dark shadow had crept over something once warm and beautiful, turning it rotten.
As hard as she tried, she just couldn’t put together the story from these cards. The themes of imprisonment and darkness were clear, but there was something about the Grails card that left her uneasy.
“Well? Gabriel asked, his patience finally cracking. “What does my future hold, witch? Or am I to die in a swamp? Drowned in a cauldron of my own blood, perhaps?”
“We should both be so lucky.”
“Andyoushould—”
