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“We think,” Oliver continued, “the spell might be aimed against Mercy, perhaps an attempt to weaken the line through harming her.”
“Is it over then, this business with the body? Was it this Teague jackass behind it?”
“No.” I shook my head. “The desecration of Jilo’s grave, the berserker spell. I don’t think that had anything to do with Teague. At least not directly. His goal was to protect the line. He would never knowingly participate in an attack against it. This business with the sephirot, it may be connected or perhaps it’s only intended as a distraction.”
“Someone would kill and dismember an innocent woman as a mere sleight of hand?”
“I don’t know, but I want to visit the places where the parts have been found. I am certain the locations are not random. I want to look at them through the lens of the sephirot. If we can figure out what the spell is attempting, we will know who is actually behind its working.”
“Who do you think is behind it?” Adam asked. A good and logical question everyone else had been afraid to pose.
“That depends on the aim of the spell. We know Emily is out there, but my gut tells me she wouldn’t bother using a dead body as a poppet to come after me, and I doubt she’d have to rely on whatever magic clung to Jilo’s bones. If the spell’s goal is to hurt me, but not damage the line, it could be any number of disgruntled witches trying to work magic without setting off any alarms along the line.”
“This simply doesn’t feel like a witch’s work to me.” Iris leaned toward me. “I sense you don’t want to accept it as a possibility, but Jessamine is so full of rage.” Iris raised her hand to emphasize her words. “She’s Daddy’s granddaughter, the same as you. Who knows how much magic of her own she might have? You know I loved Jilo too, but you and Oliver exposed her to the Tree of Life. Who knows how much of her experience she shared with Jessamine? It may have been Jessamine herself who defiled Jilo’s grave.”
“Do not go there—”
She twisted her palm up as a signal for me to stop. “I am not saying Jilo would have ever intentionally done anything to put you or any of us in danger, but who knows what Jessamine might have gleaned from a careless statement made here or there?”
I sat and let her words settle. I bit my lip as I weighed whether I should dare speak the truth. I didn’t want to hurt my aunt, but for my own sake, I couldn’t afford letting her carry on with blurred vision. “I’m sorry, but I think you want Jessamine to be guilty.”
Iris made a sharp intake of air and stiffened as if I had physically struck her. “I have no desire to pin guilt on the innocent, but—”
“But,” Oliver said, placing a hand on her shoulder, “a part of you wants to get even with her for taking away your sense of self, your regard for our father, for alerting us to the fact Mama has been wasting away in Gehenna for over two decades. Jessamine, innocent or guilty, has turned your world upside down. You want to punish her for that.”
“How could you even say that, Oli?” Iris shook her head.
“Because I feel the same exact way,” he said.
“As do I,” Ellen added weakly. She raised her fingers to her temples. The hangover had set in. Her own healing powers would ensure it wouldn’t pain her long, but I could see it was fierce all the same.
The swinging door eased open, and Maisie stepped quietly into the kitchen. All eyes turned toward her. She moved cautiously to the table and sat, never daring to raise her eyes to meet ours. She reminded me of a photo I’d seen of a wounded soldier returning from Vietnam to an ungrateful hometown. She had wanted to defend me, but I had rejected her as a murderer. Had the line actually preserved her, groomed her, and returned her to me as my protector? No one else here, including myself, would have acted so decisively against Teague.
“I’m not saying Jessamine is innocent.” I focused my thoughts. “I’m saying we need to investigate without prejudice.”
“I am fine with doing that,” Oliver said, releasing Iris and turning his attention back to me. “As long as you are willing to keep an open mind about this sephirot theory of yours.” He folded his hands on the table, reminding me of the many times I’d been called to the principal’s office to receive the message that a bright girl such as myself could do so well if only I would focus. “Yes, there are ten sephirot, but if we are looking for magical correspondences—” He interrupted himself and explained to Adam. “Using like to draw like, as above so below and all that—I don’t see any link between them and the locations on this map. They aren’t laid out in anything resembling the traditional arrangement of the sephirot on the tree. And here”—he tapped on the caricature of City Hall—“they found a foot. Just a foot. Here”—he pointed to Hutchinson Island—“they found a hand by itself.” He looked to Adam for corroboration. Adam nodded. “This doesn’t match the classical correspondences of the parts of the body to the sephirot. You never see the separation of hand from arm or foot from leg.” He ran his fingers through his lengthening gold curls. “I’m sorry, but when it comes to the different sites, I can’t even hazard a guess what the magical correlation to the sephirot might be.” His eyes scanned over the circles once more. “I see none.”
“I think,” Maisie began, her voice cracking. She looked up at me, and I nodded in encouragement. She licked her lips. “I think that’s because you are only considering the positive aspects. Whoever is behind this spell is working dark magic. They would take the left-handed path. You should look for any negative correspondences.”
“And that is exactly what we are going to do,” I said. I reached out and took her hand. “Close your eyes,” I said, and together we slid from the room.
FOURTEEN
I had no reason to begin at City Hall, other than the location was at the top of my mind due to Oliver’s attempt to convince me of the unsoundness of my theory. When I opened my eyes, Maisie and I stood hand in hand at the corner of Bull and West Bay, facing the four-story neoclassical confection. Sun glinted off its gold-plated dome, but it was the gold of the marigolds showing from the flower boxes on the second floor that caught my attention. My eyes followed the lines of the twin Ionic columns up to the sisters who adorned the space immediately beneath the dome.
“Art and Industry,” Maisie said, showing me how connected we still were, even after all that had happened between us. “What was it you used to tell the tourists they were called?”
I smiled in spite of myself. “Fannie and Rita Mae.” I named the statues after my two favorite authors when I was twelve, weeks after I’d started the Liar’s Tour and days after I learned what the word “lesbian” meant. “Well, Uncle Oliver thought it was funny.” Maisie smiled back at me, and I squeezed her hand tighter. I turned back to face City Hall. “What do you think, do you see anything?”
“I think Oliver was willfully ignoring the most obvious correlation.” She reached up with her free hand and pointed at the golden dome. “Looks enough like a crown to me.”
“That’s Kether, right? The crown?”
“Yes, when you are considering the positive aspects, but I suspect it’s Rita Mae and Fannie we should consider. Look at them.” She lowered her hand to the stone ladies. “They are the same but different.”
“Kind of like us, huh?”
