Blind God's Bluff A Billy Fox Novel - By Richard Lee Byers Page 0,32

wild inside my brain.

“Where were we?” said Queen. “Oh, yes. Wotan, are you going to call, or what?”

It took him a second to answer. Maybe even he was having trouble wrapping his head around what was happening. But then he raised, and the game continued. And I kept popping back and forth between the ballroom and the tent.

Until Queen grunted, and her whole body tensed. A sliding, gurgling sound came from under the table, and then a gasp.

“What?” said Queen. “Let me see.”

The maid under the table must have passed the egg to the one who wasn’t, because the latter was the one who held it up for Queen to see. It was no bigger than a ping-pong ball, and a dirty-looking gray. Jelly seeped through several hairline cracks.

“Oh, my dear friend,” said Leticia. She was full of sympathy for everybody tonight. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s nothing,” said Queen. “One or two are always bad.” She grunted and stiffened again.

The second egg looked just as spoiled and nasty as the first.

Like I mentioned before, the others respected the Pharaoh. They played as hard against him as they did against each another, but they mostly didn’t taunt or insult him. But now Queen jerked around and gave him a glare that managed to burn with hatred despite her blank inhuman eyes. “You did this!” she said.

“Why would you think so?” the mummy answered. Candlelight gleamed on the edges of the plastic splints.

“You know death magic and nec—” she began, and then I was in Afghanistan.

When I made it back to Tampa, he was talking. “—could resort to violence, I suppose. If you’re certain everyone else is convinced I actually did… tamper with you. And that a scuffle is advisable even in light of your delicate condition. I’m no authority on the biology of your species, but isn’t there a risk of losing an entire generation?”

Trembling, Queen kept glaring at him. He blew smoke in her direction.

Meanwhile, her little round shoes clicking on the floor, A’marie hurried over to us all. The tray in her hands held fluffy towels, washcloths, a basin, a pitcher, and a glass.

As she reached the table, she lurched off balance, and the tray tilted. Everything on it tumbled down on top of Leticia. The water drenched her perfect hairdo, makeup, and red silk gown. Startled, she cried out.

“I’m so sorry!” said A’marie. “I’m so sorry!” She snatched up one of the fallen towels and started wiping and dabbing at Leticia.

Until Leticia shoved her away hard enough to make her stagger three steps and fall on her butt. “You brainless freak!” the redhead snarled.

“I just wanted to help the lady Queen,” A’marie stammered. She shot me a glance and opened her hand just long enough to give me a peek at a waterlogged white handkerchief with a brown dot on it.

“Did anyone tell you to do that?” Leticia asked. “No? Then your punishment will be even more severe.” She stood up, and then I realized what was really going on.

Maybe I put the pieces together because I noticed the flashbacks had stopped, and the ballroom and the creatures in it felt real again. Or maybe it was magic intuition kicking in. Whatever it was, I was suddenly sure the spot on the hankie was my blood.

Gimble had jabbed me on purpose, and the point on his hand had drawn and held my blood like a syringe. Then he’d passed it to Leticia, who used it to voodoo me. The blood amped her power to where the Thunderbird couldn’t block it.

A’marie had figured out what was happening, then created a distraction and an excuse to climb all over Leticia and grab the handkerchief out of her lap. And now Leticia was threatening to hurt her if she didn’t give it back, although she couldn’t say it in so many words with everybody else listening.

I still felt shaky, but I jumped up anyway. “Hold it,” I said.

Leticia looked around at me. “I’m sorry if this distresses you. I can see how it might, especially if you’re not feeling well. And I’ll be happy to discipline the thrall elsewhere, so you won’t have to watch. But she does need correction.”

“It doesn’t matter what she needs,” I said. “She doesn’t belong to you. She’s Timon’s, and at this table, I’m him. So it’s my job to punish her.”

I had no idea whether the Old People’s traditions really backed up what I was saying. But I had picked up on the fact that to