But even with all the right tools and Jaci’s ceaseless efforts, Meech refused to appear.
Gripping the edge of the sink, she leaned forward, nose-to-nose with her own blood-streaked reflection. Her eyes were red and glassy, her hair a wild tangle. She hadn’t even changed out of the damned dress from last night. It was singed with hellfire from her fight with Viansa, stinking of brimstone.
Stinking of her childhood.
Jaci swallowed back a wave of nausea. She’d never looked so unhinged. So broken.
“Meech, I swear to the devil if you don’t answer me, I’ll march straight into hell and kill you myself.”
Jaci continued to glare.
Her reflection glared back.
Meech, unfortunately, did not.
Panic crawled through her chest, but succumbing to it would only lead to more mistakes. And right now, she couldn’t afford a single fuck-up.
On the back edge of the sink, a Tarot card leaned against a large pillar candle, its top border dark with melted black wax.
The Queen of Knives.
She lifted the card and gazed into the image—a silver-haired queen seated on her throne, a black dagger clutched in both hands. One gripped the handle, the other the blade, her pale skin and white dress splattered with blood. Just over her shoulder, a raven perched, watching.
The Queen was known for swiftness and clarity, an uncanny ability to cut through bullshit, and a spine of steel. One look into those silver-blue eyes, and Jaci could practically hear the challenge in her voice. The warning.
Fucking try me,she seemed to say.
Jaci wanted that Queen on her side. Wanted her to help her cut through whatever dark, murky veil had clouded her connection to Meech.
“Help me,” she begged, calling on the Queen’s magic.
The Queen returned her deep gaze, silent but for the new energy suddenly buzzing across Jaci’s skin. She pressed the card to her chest and placed her other palm flat against the mirror, closing her eyes and filling her mind with thoughts of her cousin.
Her sly smile, her contagious laughter, the outrageous purple hair.
The magic crested, filling and warming her from the inside out. Just before it peaked, she opened her eyes and stared into the mirror once more, reaching out with her mind. Her heart. Her soul. Everything she had, all of it amplified by the magic coursing through her.
“Demetria,” she whispered.
The magic flared hot, making her skin glow.
Her reflection wavered, and hope surged in Jaci’s heart. But after another few beats, all that appeared in the mirror were the toxic, yellow-green flames of one of hell’s most vicious realms.
She’d tapped into the place, but not the demon. Not the cousin who was more like a sister than her own flesh and blood had ever been.
Jaci dropped the Tarot card, the Queen of Knives landing in the blood-swirled sink as if the card itself had come to life, spilling her own blood only to watch it trickle down the drain into nothing.
One by one, she blew out the candles. Cleaned off the mirror. Plucked the card out of the sink and washed away the rest of the blood until once more, the bathroom was back to neutral.
Washing her hands, Jaci tried to reason out the possibilities.
Best-case scenario? Meech was off in one of the other realms dealing with whatever hell business kept her busy these days. Maybe Viansa had stirred up a bunch of shit down there before finally manifesting here, and now Meech was scrambling to clean up the mess.
It was also possible Viansahadgotten to Meech—but hadn’t killed her. Maybe the bitch was holding her captive, waiting for the opportunity to blackmail Jaci.
That could be dealt with.Anythingcould be dealt with, as long as Meech was still alive.
But the worst-case scenario breathed hot and heavy against the back of her neck, much too close for comfort.
