Red, White and Blue (Book Two of The Powder Trail)

Chapter Twenty: The Ace of Spades

The fourth of July dawned bright and lovely in the countryside around Oxford, and nobody – not even Myrrha – knew what the day would bring. 

She had a few clues, of course, because her pack of cards was always talking to her. This morning, as she and Fabienne sat down to breakfast, it showed her the Jack of Clubs – which meant that John Danvers was evidently hard at work collecting Carver's blood – and the Ace of Spades.

The Ace of Spades was one of the rare cards that Myrrha hadn't actually assigned a name to. Instead, it had become a kind of central mystery – the big black spider in the middle of the web. It often turned up in conjunction with the Queen of Spades – the card that symbolized Ellini – although it could also appear with Danvers, with Jack, or with the Ace of Hearts – which, in Myrrha's experience, usually symbolized a kiss. She sensed that the card represented a person; she could feel its personality, even though it didn't appear to be interacting with anybody. It just hung around the central characters like a shadow.

"What do you think?" she said, putting down her tea-cup and holding out the card for Fabienne's inspection.

Fabienne just raised her eyebrows. She didn't like the cards much. "I don't know who that is," she said primly.

"Neither do I. Who would you guess it is, in light of its appearance, and its relationship with the other cards?"

Fabienne placed her tea-cup back in its saucer, looking put-upon. "Well, it's a big, black dramatic card. I suppose I'd equate it with Death in the Tarot."

"Very good," said Myrrha. "But remember, the Death card doesn't always symbolize death. It can mean endings, beginnings, transformation. We mustn't get morbid about it."

Fabienne ignored her, perhaps sensing that she was being made fun of.

"I suppose the fact that it's an Ace emphasizes its singularity? Whatever it represents, there can only be one of it?"

"Very likely," said Myrrha.

"And it's the same suit as Ellini, so would that imply that it's related to her in some way?"

"It would, if my dear, departed husband hadn't wiped out all her family members," said Myrrha, shrugging. "I suppose she could always make some more, but probably not by this evening."

"And you're sure she's going to die this evening?"

"No," said Myrrha cheerfully. She laid out two more cards – the Ten of Diamonds and the Ace of Hearts. "All I know is, there's going to be a lot of blood, and a kiss." As an afterthought, she put down another card – the Three of Hearts – and frowned. "Or possibly three kisses."

Fabienne sighed impatiently. "It doesn't even bother you that you don't know, does it? I thought this was supposed to be about getting revenge on Jack – about making Ellini Syal into a martyr, and recruiting hundreds of women to our cause?"

"Yes, yes, and yes," said Myrrha. "But it is also – and most crucially – about entertaining myself."

She looked back at the Ace of Spades, inclining her head towards it, in case it should be tempted to whisper its secret in her ear. It didn't, but she was sure it had something to tell her.

She watched the card for so long that her tea grew cold between her palms. Fabienne got impatient and stalked off to resume her favourite pastime of straightening the glass jars on the shelves.

"What are you saying?" Myrrha murmured, staring at the Ace of Spades. "Why are you there, but never talking?"

And then the card showed her why.

Myrrha's visions were never extreme. A cynical person might say that they hardly qualified as visions at all. They were usually just an added level of detail on something she was already looking at.

In this case, the card that she'd been staring at for half an hour while barely blinking suddenly appeared to have fine, hairline cracks all over its surface, as though it had been shattered and very artfully reassembled.

Myrrha yelped and dropped her tea-cup as if it had burned her. It must have broken on the tiles, but she didn't look. Cold was creeping through her as inexorably as those hairline cracks, undermining everything. 

"It's Eve," she said, in a throaty voice that came from deep under her layers of composure. "Eve is coming back tonight. I hope you don't much care for the world the way it is, Fabby, because nothing is ever going to be the same again." 

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