I released the energy so fast I doubled over as if I’d been punched. Gasping, I sucked in air and steadied myself with a hand on the table. The magic might have dispersed, but the images still haunted me.
The basilisk. It could be only one person. The worst possible foe.
Abraxas Prospero.
Now, in addition to the symbols, questions swirled through my head as if it were a centrifuge. How in the hell did Abe get involved in Bane’s plans? And more important, why? What did he have to gain? Because Abraxas Prospero never did anything without expecting a personal boon.
And then I remembered how the investigation had played out. How all signs seemed to point at Volos’s being responsible for Gray Wolf. When it became clear Bane was involved I figured he’d tried to frame John because he’d dared go after the Sangs’ turf. But now I realized that if Abe was involved, the motive had been much simpler than a turf war.
Abe wanted revenge. He’d tried to frame John for Gray Wolf to make him pay for betraying him.
“Goddamn it,” I whispered.
The lights flashed on overhead, disorienting me even more. I tried to pull myself upright despite feeling like a wrung-out dishrag, but suddenly two strong arms came around to support my weight. My senses filled with the sharp bite of ozone and the woodsy fragrance of John’s aftershave.
He cursed under his breath as he caught me. “Kate? What’s wrong?”
I licked my lips and blinked rapidly as vision came rushing back. John’s frown was blurry at first, but a relief from the static. But then an image of the basilisk superimposed itself over that face. Fear raced through me, along with a need for action.
I pushed away from John and stumbled toward the shelves. My eyes scanned the bottles for the ingredient I needed.
“Kate?” John stood directly behind me. I could feel his worry. “What did you see?”
“No time,” I snapped. “Where’s the green vitriol?”
“Just tell me—”
I rounded on him, my fear manifesting as anger I directed at him. “Did you know?” I demanded, my voice rising.
He squinted and tilted his head. “Know what?”
I paused because I was suddenly afraid. Almost as if saying the name would somehow summon the devil into that brewery. I shook my head and kept combing through the cabinets.
He grabbed my arms and forced me to look at him. “What?” He shook me a little, as if he was trying to rattle sense into my brain. “Tell me.”
I told myself to tread lightly. His reaction to my next words would determine how this would play out. “It was Uncle Abe.”
It appeared in his eyes first, the rage. Then his confused expression tightened, contracted as the dominoes of evidence fell in his mind. “That’s not possible.”
His left hand was wrapped around my left wrist. I looked down at his-and-hers Ouroboros tattoos. Dragging my eyes from the image, which was too disturbingly reminiscent of the vision I’d just had, I looked him in the eye. “You know it is very possible.”
He shook me again. “Are you absolutely certain it was him?”
Was I? It had been so long since I’d read magic I couldn’t blame him for his distrust. Some symbols were open to interpretation, but some were as sharp and bright as a honed knife’s blade. “Yeah,” I said, swallowing bile. “I’m sure.”
John dropped his arms and stepped back. He shook his head in denial. Easier to fool himself than to accept how well and truly screwed he’d be if I was right. Because if Abe was calling the shots behind Bane the whole time, we’d been playing a child’s game without realizing we were really fighting a war.
Anger flared in my gut. “Thanks for dragging me into this bullshit, by the way.”
His eyes flared. “I didn’t drag you into anything, Kate. You’re conveniently forgetting that you wouldn’t have gotten involved in this at all if you hadn’t killed that MEA snitch or talked your way onto the case.”
I shook my head even though he was right. It hurt too much to accept that my own ambitions had started the chain reaction that led to Danny’s getting hurt and my having to cook to save him. Being angry at John was so much easier than turning that weapon on myself.
“Whatever,” I said. “It really doesn’t matter how either of us ended up in the middle of this. This big question is, How did Abe pull this off and what’s his endgame?”
He stared at me hard for a second, as if he couldn’t decide whether to let me off that easily, but in the end he played along. “Let’s face it: The warden at Crowley probably can’t take a shit without Abe’s permission.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “And the endgame?”
“Knowing Abe there’s no way we’ll ever see that coming. Better to focus on using what we know now to finish the antipotion.”
I nodded and blew out a deep breath. “Where’s the green vitriol?”
He frowned. “For what?”
“That wasn’t dragon’s blood in the Gray Wolf. It was cinnabar.”
“Shit. Of course.” He let out a breath. The basilisk wasn’t just a nickname for Abe, it was also a symbol for cinnabar, which is why Abe used it in most of his alchemical potions. “How did I miss that?”
I shrugged. “Because he wanted us to miss it. He put in extra quicksilver to help disguise it, probably.” I moved a few bottles around looking for what I needed.
“Green vitriol is over there.” He sounded weary. “Might be a good idea to add some extra sulfur, too, just to balance it out.”
I looked up and over at the cabinet he pointed toward. This one had locked doors. Not surprising. High-quality green vitriol was expensive and difficult to lay hands on since the government regulated its sale. “The key?”
He removed it from his pocket and tossed it over. “There’s not much.”
“I only need a little. Enough for a cure for Danny.” I pulled down the small vial filled with green crystals. I poured a quarter gram into an unglazed earthenware container.
“Kate?”
I ignored him. So far I’d been doing a fairly decent job of convincing myself not to freak out about Abe’s involvement. Keeping my hands busy helped, and so did just plain old denial. But fear was curling around the edges of the wall I’d erected, like poisonous smoke. As much as I tried to convince myself that I could just get the cure for Danny and then go on with my life, the truth was I was now tangled up in Uncle Abe’s web as sure as Volos was.