Free A Circle of Ashes by Cate Tiernan Page B

she? Pressing his lips together, he walked over to the gable window and looked out. From here he could see the river and hear the blare of tugboats’ horns as they guided the huge tankers upstream. A haze hung over the water, and the last of the day’s sunlight shone weakly through it.
    Only Petra. Daedalus considered only Petra worthy of concern. So Jules’s own power, own acquiescence, was taken for granted or not taken into account at all. And he noticed that this whole scheme, which he and Daedalus had developed together during the summer, now was Daedalus’s plan, his idea. Who was Jules? An underling? An
assistant?
    Jules set his jaw, then schooled his face into calmness and turned back. His power. That was exactly what could change if they did this rite with the full Treize. The whole balance of power would change, in an instant.

Another Level of Desolation
    “B
ay
,” Richard murmured, painting it on his wall. The silver paint looked good against the deep blue, and he stood back to admire its effect.” “Wind.”
    Even though this apartment was only rented and even though he would no doubt not be here long, still, Richard had decided to go ahead and make his surroundings more comfy. His bedroom wasn’t big, and his bed was a single mattress on the floor. A low altar in one corner was covered with red candle wax. But the rich blue walls felt good, and now he was painting silver symbols and runes in a border encircling the room.
    “
Collet
,” he said, dipping his brush into the paint. He drew two small circles connected by a U shape. Necklace. A drop of silver paint dripped off his brush onto his bare chest. Absently he smeared it with a finger, then put down the brush and lit a cigarette. He was standing in the middle of the room, planning his design, when he heard the apartment door slam.
    Richard grinned wryly. What a surprise—Luc was still in a bad mood. He heard cabinets open in the kitchen, liquid being poured into a glass. Footsteps came down the hall, and then Luc was in the doorway, taking a sip of his drink.
    “If that’s the last of my scotch, I’m going to kick your ass,” Richard said without heat.
    “Left you some for breakfast tomorrow,” Luc said, looking at Richard’s handiwork. “You’re going to have to repaint all this before you leave.”
    Richard shrugged, blew out some smoke, and tapped ash onto the floor.
    Luc’s eyes narrowed as he caught some of the symbols. “You doing something here, Riche, or is this just for looks?”
    Richard glanced at him. “Looks.”
    Luc moved closer to the wall and tapped the symbol for feather. “
Plume? Collet? Tache
? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were working up to something.”
    Richard regarded him evenly. “Good thing you know better.”
    Luc drank, looking bleak.
Ah, the twins
, Richard thought. The lovely twins, with hair black as night, eyes green as the sea. Cerise’s eyes. Armand’s hair. Funny how their looks had been preserved so perfectly after all this time. Each daughter, daughter after daughter after daughter, had married. Some had married men in the
famille
, some had married outsiders. But for all that inpouring of genetic material, here the twins were, almost identical replicas of Cerise. As if they had sprung from her directly, without their blood being watered down over and over. His mouth set in a grim line and he went to pull on a T-shirt, carefully switching his cigarette from hand to hand.
    “So you know Petra’s back,” he said.
    Luc looked up. “Really? When? Where was she?”“Got back yesterday. Apparently she was up north, refixing Michel Allard’s will.”“In what way?” Luc asked.
    Richard took a drag on his cigarette, acting casual, drawing out Luc’s torment. “She got custody of Thais. Plucked her out of Axelle’s like a chicken out of a fox den. But you probably know this.” He watched Luc out of the corner of one eye, saw him run a hand through hair already ragged, his face