Zodiac (Zodiac, #1)(45)
“No more tricks.” Mathias tugs at his veil collar. “How do I get this thing off?”
“We’ll lose our advantage,” whispers Hysan.
I shake my head. “Mathias is right. We came for their trust—how will it look if we don’t give them ours?”
With a sigh, Hysan gives a quiet command. Our veils switch off, and twenty pairs of wide, coffee-brown Geminin eyes turn toward us. There’s a hush, then a series of shrieks as some of them have meltdowns and others scatter away, like they’re really frightened children.
“Sorry,” I say feebly from the front of the room. “We . . . we apologize for our sudden appearance, but we come in friendship.”
Instantly, the Twins spring up from their blue pillow. Their metallic costumes throw off brassy scintillations, and their faces shimmer with opalescent skin paint, the kind Deke’s family manufactures. “Welcome!”
They speak in unison, in a cheerful singsong. “Holy Mother Rhoma, how delightful. We’ve been expecting you.”
I freeze. “You have?”
They give a signal, and the remaining little Geminin scurry out, whispering and giggling. Arm in arm, the Twins sashay toward us, beaming. As we exchange the hand touch, one of them—the girl—says, “My name is Rubidum, and this handsome fellow is my brother, Caaseum.”
Caaseum rises a few centimeters into the air and kisses my hand. I notice he’s wearing levitation boots to enhance his height. “Rhoma Grace, what a privilege it must be to reign over a Cardinal House.” Cardinal Houses mark the changes of the seasons, and each represents one of the four elements of life: Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. “We have so many questions for you!”
The Twins usher us off the stage and toward the pillows where they were seated. We pull over a few more, and we all sit down. The moment we’re settled, I say, “I’ve come to warn you—”
“About an enemy as old as time,” says Caaseum, nodding genially.
My eyebrows pull together in confusion. “How do you know?”
“Good Mother, why just this morning the stars showed an omen! Have you not been consulting?”
Mathias, Hysan, and I stare at him in shock. The depths of his eyes make me nervous. “You mean you’ve seen him?”
Caaseum shuts his eyes and presses a hand dramatically to his forehead, like a fortune-teller at a fair. “I’ve seen someone powerful in the Psy is challenging you, someone using a timeless weapon. That’s why you’ve come, am I right?”
“He’s going to attack your House using Dark Matter,” I say firmly.
“Remarkable.” Rubidum gives me a vivacious smile. “Admiral Crius said you were coming to raise relief funds, but this is much better. Tell us more. I love your accent.”
Caaseum leans toward me. “Did you bring your stone with you?”
“My stone?” His change of topic addles me. “You mean my black opal? We left it on the ship.”
“Black opal? Intriguing.” Caaseum’s eyes shine brighter. “The omen I saw was open to many interpretations. What I described is only one view. My Ephemeris may not be as precise as your stone. We should compare.”
He opens his left hand, and the drawing on his palm starts to glow. The Geminin version of a Wave is a Tattoo. Each one is unique—in look and function—because every person designs and programs their own. When tiny stars spray upward from his palm, I yell, “No! Please don’t use your Ephemeris!”
“Not use my Ephemeris?” He stares at me. “That’s like telling a bullet-ship not to speed.”
“Or telling a Sagittarian not to ask nosy questions,” says Rubidum with a laugh. “Close your hand, brother. You’re making our young friend uncomfortable.”
“If you insist.” Caaseum briefly slings his hand, and the glow in his palm vanishes.
I blink to clear my head. “Listen. Ophiuchus struck our world with a Psy attack. He made our moons collide. And your House may be next.”
When they flinch back and stare at me, I launch right in, describing the Dark Matter, the pattern in the stars, and my encounters with Ochus. Next I explain the omens I saw for Houses Gemini and Virgo. “You need to build shelters. Make an evacuation plan. Ochus will show you no mercy.”
“Ochus? Priceless. This could be an opera.” Rubidum takes up a small musical instrument and rapidly plucks its strings, filling the air with melody. “My sources said your were quite a spinner of tales, and they weren’t wrong.”
“Tales?” I have to force myself not to shout when I say, “Twenty million of my people are dead!”
Rubidum plays more vigorously. Her fingers fly along the strings. “You want revenge.”
“Absolutely,” I say. “But first I want to make sure your people are safe.”
“Murder and vengeance, a classic. I hear the theme song now.”
“Can it, Rubi,” says her brother. “Our guest is in mourning.”
“I’m aware of that.” Rubidum’s music grows darker, stormier, and her eyes seem to hollow out like a pair of deep caves. “Revenge is a tale that never ends. It goes round and round forever, and no one finds peace.” She plays a run of soft descending notes. “It’s very sad, what happened to your moons, but as the years go by, you’ll gain perspective on these ups and downs. No one escapes the vagaries of nature.”