“No, you weren’t. I’ve met your uncles.” She waited for him to nod—less actual breathing fire among the aunties, but otherwise the two groups were remarkably similar. “Because all of these aunties have known each other all their lives and Auntie Bea acknowledges deep down that she can’t shove Auntie Jane off top of the charts, we manage. They’re, we’re working out new ways of dealing with each other.” Leaning forward, she caught his gaze and held it. “Now think of another circle that has an auntie in the same position as Auntie Jane. That’s the single point where the two circles will touch. If I had to describe it in one word, I’d say boom.”

“Boom?”

“Boom. By the time the concept of working together to stop the asteroid is even mentioned, there won’t be anything to work with. We can try to save the world, or we can go looking for more family and destroy it before the asteroid hits the blog-sphere.”

“Two Dragon Queens can’t share a territory.”

Charlie spread her hands. “And there you go.”

A car drove by. Two blocks down, a small dog yapped out an indignant protest Charlie almost understood. The smell of woodsmoke suggested one of the neighbors had lit a fire in their fireplace. Up in the sky, it was neither a bird nor a plane but imminent death.

“Do they know?” Jack asked. The lounge bowed as he dropped down to sit beside her again, his weight not entirely under control.

“Do the other circles know about the asteroid?” Good question. Charlie thought about it for a moment. “If they even still exist, probably not. You have to admit the chain of events that led to us finding out was . . . unique.”

“But if they have a Seer . . .”

“Would they have a bouzouki player with a friend at NASA? Doubt it.”

“Yeah.” He blew a smoke ring and watched it drift away. “So . . . you and me in ritual. All available power in play.” Another smoke ring. Another moment while they both watched it drift. “What do we do?”

Even if she survived the ritual itself without being flame broiled, Charlie didn’t think she could survive afterward, knowing and not having. “We hope the horse talks.”

“What?”