“And Kane,” Zoe added. “I don’t think it’s smart to leave him out.”

“You’re right,” Dana agreed. “And Kane. He’s messed with most of us already, and it’s pretty clear he’ll mess with us again. We know he’s bad. We know he’s powerful. But those powers aren’t without limits.”

“Or someone or something limits him. He took a slice out of me,” Jordan continued. “Then Rowena sends a little potion home with Dana. You guys saw this yesterday.” He opened his shirt. The cuts were now only fading welts. “They started healing minutes after we slapped the stuff on them. The point is, whatever he did couldn’t hold up against Rowena. And whatever she did to counter it couldn’t erase it completely.”

“To which we conclude,” Dana finished for him, “that they’re pretty evenly matched.”

“He has weaknesses.” Absently Jordan rebuttoned his shirt. “Ego, pride, temper.”

“Who said those were weaknesses?” Dana wandered over, sat on the arm of the chair Brad had taken. “Anyway, it’s more. He doesn’t really get us—the whole human or mortal thing. He doesn’t get us as individuals. He skims the surface, picks up on our little fantasies or fears, but he doesn’t really get to the core—or hasn’t. That’s how Malory beat him.”

“Yes, but when he has hold of you, it’s hard to see clearly, hard to know.” Malory shook her head. “We can’t underestimate him.”

“I’m not. But up to now, I think, he has underestimated us.” Thoughtfully, Dana studied the portrait. “He wants them to suffer, simply because part of them is mortal. Rowena talked of opposing forces: beauty and ugliness, knowledge and ignorance, courage and cowardice. How without one the other loses its punch. So he’s the dark, and you can’t have light without dark. I figure he’s essential to the whole deal, not just an annoyance.”

She hesitated, then took a drink. “It’s no secret that Jordan and I were intimate. I don’t think it’s any secret that we’re . . . intimate now.”

Jordan waited a beat. “I’ve never known you to get flustered talking about sex, Stretch.”

“I just want to make it clear to . . . people. To you, that I’m not sleeping with you as a way to find the key. Even if that has something to do with it,” she continued quickly, “because as somebody told me recently, sex is powerful magic—”

“If you do it right,” Jordan interrupted.

“So let’s see what we know,” Brad said, trying to get back on track. “None of this would have happened—past—without Kane.” Brad tapped his index fingers together. “His presence and manipulations influence the search for the key. Present.” He held up a second finger. “And there’s no finish to the spell without him.” And a third. “He’s a necessary factor. There’s no reward without work, no victory without effort, no battle won without risk.”

“It’s another traditional element of a quest,” Jordan added. “An evil to be overcome.”

“I understand all this,” Zoe said. “And it’s important. But how does it help Dana find the key?”

“Know your enemy,” Brad told her.

“That nutshelled it,” Dana agreed.

“But there’s more,” Flynn noted. “Blood has been shed. Another traditional quest element. I can read, too,” he said. “Why was it Jordan’s blood? There’s a reason for it.”

“Might be because Jordan pissed him off, which he’s really good at doing,” Dana said. “But more likely it’s because I need Jordan to find the key.”

“Stretch, you need me for so many things.”

“Let’s ignore the ego burst and stay focused.” Dana gestured with her glass. “The key’s knowledge. Something I know, or have to learn. A truth that has to be sifted out from lies. Kane mixes his truth and lies. What is it he’s said or done that’s truth? That’s one of the angles I’m playing. Then there’s the last bit of the clue. Where one goddess walks another waits. That’s a stumper so far. Malory’s goddess was singing, and she re-created that moment, and the key, by painting it. Following that, my goddess, Niniane, should be walking. But where, why, when? And which goddess waits? Would that be Zoe’s?”

“Maybe you’re supposed to write it,” Zoe suggested. “Like a story, I mean. The way Malory painted hers.”

“That’s not bad.” Dana considered. “The thing is, I never wanted to write, not like Malory wanted to paint. But maybe it’s something I’m supposed to read, and God knows I’m not hitting on anything in the six million books I’ve gone through so far. So maybe I have to write it myself, first.”

“Maybe Jordan does.” Flynn played absently with Malory’s hair as he thought it through. “He’s the writer—not to diminish my own considerable talent, but I report. He just makes shit up.”

“Really good shit,” Jordan reminded him.

“Goes without saying. I’m thinking here that if for nothing other than the cohesion and the exercise, Jordan could write all this out. In story form. Maybe when Dana reads it, the scales will fall from her eyes, she’ll pull out the key, and we can all have a party, with cake.”

“It’s not an entirely stupid idea,” Dana decided.

“I think it’s great.” Zoe shifted in her seat to beam at Jordan. “Will you do it? I just love reading your books, and this would be even more fun.”

“For you, gorgeous?” He picked up her hand and kissed it. “Anything.”

“I’m feeling a little queasy.” Dana patted her stomach. “How soon will you have something I can see?” she asked Jordan.

“Okay, now you sound like an editor. It could force me to have a creative tantrum and slow everything down.”

“Do you? Have creative tantrums, I mean.” To Zoe, the idea was fascinating. “I’ve always wondered how it works, with artists and all.”

“Oh, God, now she’s called him an artist.” Dana got to her feet. “I must go home and lie down.”

Ignoring her, Jordan gave Zoe his attention. “No, not really. It’s a job, just happens to be a really great job. My editor—my real editor,” he added with a glance at Dana, “is a woman of discerning taste, skill, and diplomacy.”