The Serpent

by Sarah Fine

  But one appeared anyway, right on her lap. Grinning and elated, she opened the lid, put the card inside, and set the combination—the same as her combo for her gym locker. Let’s see Duncan or any of those other Dealers break into my dream and figure that one out. Feeling very clever, Ernie ate a few more handfuls of Goldfish, then left the tent to look around. A campfire smoldered on one side of the clearing, bringing with it the delicious smell of woodsmoke, one of Ernie’s favorite scents in the world. As she walked over to it, she noticed that the smoke had a purple cast to it. She leaned over the fire pit, squinting, to see that its source wasn’t wood but a bubbling indigo slime. A bubble popped, splattering thick ooze on the edge of the fire pit, and a bit on her hands. Ernie hissed through her teeth as the boiling substance hit her skin, then she got distracted by how the slime seemed to be crawling like a slug up her finger and across the back of her hand. She brought it up to her face to watch. It took the shape of a tiny human, stood up, and waved.

  Ernie laughed. “Hey, little person, what are you doing on my hand?”

  It began to dance, swaying its hips. Then it did the moonwalk—really well. Ernie clapped, but that threw the little person off her hand and into the leaves at her feet. “Crap,” she cried, sinking to her knees to dig through layers of woodland rot, searching for her new friend. “I’m so sorry!” she said, over and over. “I didn’t mean to do that!”

  Above her head came a high-pitched, keening cry. Ernie ignored it—birds were a dime a dozen, but a little purple slime man—one who could dance? That was special.

  Something swooped from the trees and flapped by just above her head, catching a few strands of her hair and taking them with it. “Ow!” she shouted, suspending her desperate search and sitting back on her heels. Across the clearing, sitting on a low branch, was—“Caera?”

  The bird let out another cry.

  “Shouldn’t you be with Gabe?”

  Another cry. And another. “I have no idea what you’re saying.” Her arm was burning again, and she peered down at it. “And I don’t think Legs likes you much.”

  The bird kept letting out its shrill warning or plea or whatever it was. Ernie’s deck was hot in her pocket. She pulled it out, and one card glided up from the rest, twirling through the air to land in her palm.

  It was the Friend card. Or the Lover card. She’d heard it referred to as both, though to her, they seemed like very different things. But whatever it was, the symbol looked like a skeleton key with tilted teeth, and beneath it was Gabe. Ernie fell to her knees immediately, cradling the card with both hands, her nose close to the card’s surface. Gabe lay on his side on a dirty floor, wrapped in ropes from the shoulders down. His cards lay a few feet away, so close but out of his reach. His face was swollen from the blows and bites it had taken, and blood trickled from the wound on his brow, over his right eye, which was closed and brutalized.

  “Is he dead?” she whispered, looking up at Caera, who was now perched on the tent’s external frame. The kestrel let out a mournful cry.

  Ernie’s cards pulsed with warmth, drawing her attention to the man in the depths of the card. He had moved. He was now lying on his back. His left eye was open. Wide open, as if he was looking right at her. His lips parted, as if he was about to speak, but then he grimaced in pain. “Can I reach him from here?” Ernie asked, her voice breaking. “Can I help him?” She shuffled through her cards and pulled the one for Aid. She held it up for Caera to see, then waved it over her arm. “Legs! Can I?”

  Nothing. Gabe faded from beneath the symbol, and her cards were turning cold.

  Caera let out one final cry and flew away. Ernie, helpless and stuck on the ground, watched her go. For a moment, she wondered whether she could find a card combination that would allow her to grow wings, then realized that was ridiculous.

  She was inside a dream. Whatever was happening here was a distraction. She’d built her sanctuary—well, Legs had, mostly—and she could return to it if she needed to, using the Haven card, as long as Duncan didn’t take it from her. And she’d hidden her trump card, protecting it for whatever final play she’d need to make.

  She held her arm up and kissed the tattoo, which pulsed with warmth. “Okay, now . . . how do I get back?”

  She shuffled through her cards again, mouthing their names. Her ideas were scrambling up the greased walls of her mind, almost reaching coherence but then sliding back down into confusion. Panic began to creep up her spine. She couldn’t be stuck in her own dream, could she? Or was that actually where she was? Was she lying on the floor of Minh’s hut, vulnerable and open to attack, or was she physically here, safe but trapped?

  Either way, she had to get out. The Goldfish and the purple dancing guy might have been a weird distraction, the usual funky imagery of a dreamscape, but Gabe and Caera were urgent signals from her heart, reminding her of what she needed to do. She had no Transport card, no Escape card. “Legs,” she said. “A little help. I need to get back to Minh’s hut.”

  Her Revelation card plucked itself from the deck and landed faceup on top of the other cards. She peered at it and nearly had a heart attack. If what she was seeing was real, she was in deep trouble.

  She was looking down at her own body sprawled out on the floor of the hut.

  And Minh was patiently sitting next to her, shuffling his cards.

  She held up her arm. “Baby, you have to stick with me now. We’re going in hot.”

  She was bluffing. But she needed Legs behind her on this one. She’d been musing about what she might do to defend herself against Minh with almost no offensive cards. She’d have to be quick—and not sleepy—to do it.

  She shuffled her cards into position, took a deep breath, and willed herself to wake up. It was like swimming through mud, but hey, Ernie had done that before. The stuff always wanted to suck you down, and you just had to power through it to get to the other side. In dreams it was a little easier than it was in real life, and Ernie surfaced so fast that she found herself on her feet, staring down at a rather stunned-looking Minh.

  “You could have taken my cards while I was under,” she said.

  He shook his head and slowly got to his feet. “They went with you into the dream. I did check your pockets.”

  “That was kind of intrusive.”

  “This isn’t your safe space.”

  “Nah. I was just there.” Her palms were sweating, her fingers twitching. “You’re gonna try to take me out now?”

  Minh gave her a small smile. His fingers moved, and that was all the time Ernie gave him. She whipped out two cards—and found herself holding a rather large sex toy.

  Minh’s eyes widened as he took in the thing, which was at least twelve inches long and waggling in a rather hypnotic way. He started to laugh, and just as he raised his deck, Ernie threw the rubbery toy at him. By instinct, he put his hands up to catch it.

  Which was when she dealt her next two cards. Ropes like the ones that had held Virginia to that tree in the clearing fell from the ceiling and wrapped around Minh, pinning his arms to his sides.

  For a moment, she and Minh stared at each other. He still had his deck in his hand, and at any second, Bao could come thundering off his arm. Or he could free himself. She knew that. But Minh just threw back his head and laughed. The ropes fell from his body, and Ernie backed against the wall of the hut, frantically trying to think of her next play, since she’d thought only two moves into this, not figuring she’d last longer than that.

  Minh held up his hands. “Enough.” He kicked the ropes away from him as they began to slither back up his legs. “What happened there? Usually those things are a lot more painful.”

  Ernie held up the cards she’d played, showing him the Ally card along with the Capture card. “I figured it might be more gentle.”

  “Mercy,” Minh said, tilting his head and looking intrigued. “Against a much stronger opponent.”

  “Against an ally,” Ernie said, pushing off the wall and squarin
g her shoulders. “Because that’s what you are, right? And you said I needed to work on not being clumsy with my plays. It’s much easier when she’s on my arm . . .” Her gaze drifted down to the toy she’d conjured, which was still hanging improbably from Minh’s clenched fist. He abruptly dropped it.

  The obscene thing evaporated, morphing back into the first two cards she had played, which zoomed back to her deck. She silently thanked Legs for making her look so smooth and felt a pulse of warmth in her arm. She held up the cards to show him—Tool and Pleasure. “I figured the first thing I needed was a distraction.”

  “I’ve never been in a duel where my opponent’s first play was to throw a giant dildo at me.”

  Ernie shrugged. “We’re all having a night of firsts, I guess.” She kept her cards out—she was ready to play a few more if she needed to. The ideas were coming now; perhaps they’d strapped on some climbing gear, because they were scaling the walls of her mind like pros right now. Her next play would be Deceive and the Chameleon Wild, to create some sort of illusion to entertain him while she ran for her life. She’d maybe add the Prolong Augment card to give it some staying power. The cards were already at her fingertips as Minh fanned his own.

  “I have one question for you, Ernie.”

  “If this is one of those stupid how-would-you-like-to-die things, get over yourself.”

  He bowed his head, his shoulders shaking. “You really are a vast improvement over Duncan.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “You mean it?”

  “If you survive, then yes. Now, for the question.”

  Ernie braced herself. Legs throbbed with warmth, as if reminding Ernie that she was, in fact, wearing a very poisonous serpent on her arm. She wasn’t weaponless after all.

  Minh smiled. “Are you ready to go home?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Ernie was surfing the wave of new confidence as she let Minh pull her back through space to the shop in Woodfin, but once her feet hit the ground, a now-familiar wave of weakness and pain crashed over her. She bent over, bracing her hands on her knees, winded and fighting a rush of nausea. Minh put his hand on her back, and the nausea faded. “It’s harder here. Being in a haven, anyone’s haven, is restorative, but it doesn’t heal the wounds you already have.”

  “It only keeps me from dying for a little while?” she asked as she stood up, reminding herself that she was used to training to the point of exhaustion. And if she could push herself long enough, far enough, this would be in the past. The alternative was not having a future. “So—now I have to prove myself to the others.”

  Minh nodded, his eyes on the window of the shop. “Something’s happened,” he said quietly.

  “Do you sense a disturbance in the force?” She followed him up the porch steps.

  He pushed open the door. The feast was gone. Virginia was sitting near the fire, pressing one of her cards to her stomach. Trey was hunched over Tarlae, who looked unconscious, while he stroked a card over a long wound on her arm. Her octopus, Rika, sat on the back of the couch, with one tentacle draped over Trey’s shoulder. Alvarez was nowhere to be seen.

  “Please tell me you guys didn’t get into another fight,” said Ernie.

  Tarlae’s eyelids fluttered. Trey’s shoulders slumped, maybe with relief. “We went to try to take out Duncan again,” he said. “We thought we might be able to get Gabe back and take the Diamondback deck.”

  “Considering how that went last time . . . ,” Ernie began.

  “We didn’t have you to protect,” Tarlae said as she sat up. Her arm was healed, but she was rubbing it like it still ached. “We were trying to work together.”

  Virginia stood with a groan. The front of her gauzy gown was stained red from her chest to her ankles. “Maybe we’re better alone,” she said peevishly, giving Trey a dirty look.

  “You kept getting in the way,” Trey snapped.

  “Where’s Alvarez?” asked Minh as Virginia sputtered.

  “No idea,” said Trey. “That guy . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s just out for himself.”

  “We’re all out for ourselves,” said Ernie. “Right? But we have a common goal at the moment. How did you find Duncan?”

  Tarlae tilted her head as she regarded Ernie. Her gaze traveled to the diamondback tattoo, and for the first time since they’d met, Ernie saw her smile. It was surprisingly gratifying.

  “Duncan is surrounded by other Dealers,” said Virginia, plopping down on the couch and waving two cards over her dress, turning it white once more. “The Komodo is with him, and so is the Wolf Spider, who forgot to conceal herself.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s how we found them.”

  “The Hyena is also with them,” said Trey.

  “So there are four of them,” said Ernie. “And one is weakened.” She sighed. “Like me.”

  “Oh, he’s stronger than you on your best day.” Alvarez appeared at the door, his silver hair a bit mussed and mud on his shoes. His eyes were cold. “You’re all pathetic,” he sneered.

  Trey said nothing, just flipped him off.

  Tarlae spoke directly to Ernie. “They want the Forger’s Marks—for Duncan. That’s why they’re helping him. But they are not loyal. He must be promising them something in return for their help.”

  “Well, if he plans to take down the Forger and sit on the throne, he’s probably promising them unlimited favors or something, right?” asked Ernie.

  Virginia produced a pearl-handled brush from the voluminous folds of her gown and began to work on her fluffy white hair. “They’re a bunch of idiots,” she said peevishly. “They wouldn’t know what to do with unlimited favors.” She looked over at Alvarez. “You, on the other hand . . .”

  “I have no interest in favors from him,” said Alvarez.

  “Whatever he’s promised them, they’re in this fight full-on. We couldn’t even get to Duncan,” said Trey, giving the octopus an affectionate stroke right before it shimmied onto Tarlae’s arm and sank in, becoming her colorful tattoo. “They’re protecting him.”

  “Can we turn them against him?” Ernie asked. “Akela, at least . . . ?”

  Virginia scoffed. “I don’t think I want more allies right now. Trey did more damage to me than all of Duncan’s group put together did.”

  “You were in. The. Way!” shouted Trey.

  Alvarez stepped forward, leaning on his cane. He walked with a slight limp, but Ernie wasn’t sure whether that was the result of the most recent battle or an injury deep in his past. “We’d have a chance if we just took this weakling’s cards.” His eyes slid to Trey’s. “And the Marks.”

  Trey jumped to his feet as the other Dealers immediately zeroed in on Ernie. “You know she doesn’t have them,” said Trey.

  “Ah, but Gabe does, doesn’t he?” Alvarez asked. “And if he hasn’t given them up yet—the sorry bastard’s so stubborn that I’d be shocked if he had, no matter what they do to him—then we can finish Duncan and take the Marks. Done.”

  “Gabe wants the Marks for himself,” Virginia remarked bitterly. “He’s using us.”

  Ernie drew her cards, her chest aching at the thought of what might be happening to Gabe right now. “He doesn’t,” she said loudly. “The Forger won’t even see him.”

  Trey gave her a look. Like she wasn’t supposed to say that. “I think what Ernie meant to say is that Gabe’s priority is keeping the Marks away from Duncan.”

  “And from all of us, apparently,” Tarlae said bitterly. “He is using us.”

  “Amen, sister,” muttered Virginia, even as Trey said, “Babe, that’s not how he operates.”

  “Of course it is,” said Virginia. “Gabe can’t beat his little brother now, let alone when Duncan buys himself a favor.” She began to pluck long white hairs from the brush’s bristles and sprinkle them on Ernie’s mother’s antique rug. Ugh.

  “Gabe’s taking a beating right now to protect those Marks.” Ernie glared at the Dealers. “He’s willing to give up his life to
keep them safe. And all you guys do is talk smack about him. Some allies you are.”

  Alvarez smirked. “Look at her face,” he said, pointing at Ernie with his cane. “Crippled by sentiment. She was never meant to be a Dealer!” With that, he drew his cards, and a piercing beam of light nearly blinded Ernie.

  She stumbled back, throwing up her arm to block the light, which felt like it was searing her eyes down to the retinas. Her arm and her cards flashed blazing hot, and she felt her grip on them loosen. One was pulling itself away from the rest, just like the others had when Duncan took them. Rage filled her, and a fully formed attack plan sprang into her mind. As she envisioned the cards, they leapt from her deck and she played them instantly, slashing them at Alvarez. Case. Capture. Strength. The light disappeared, accompanied by a loud thump that shook the floor. Ernie squinted in front of her as Trey and Minh guffawed. She grinned.

  She’d just encased Alvarez inside a coffin. But her triumph was cut short as the lid exploded upward, slamming into the ceiling. A rope careened out of the coffin, shooting forth from two of Alvarez’s cards, and wrapped around her neck. It pulled tight and yanked her off her feet. Her legs kicked wildly in midair as the noose dragged her upward. Her vision flashed red, and she felt her grip on the cards loosen—that freaking monkey Dealer was trying to take them again. No one seemed to be coming to her aid, either. They were probably waiting to see whether she was strong enough to handle herself—she remembered how Marcus and a few other guys on her Spartan team had done the same, waiting to see whether she could handle most of the obstacles before really warming up to her. How she wished this were that easy. Instead, she was dying, right there in her mother’s parlor. Closing her eyes, she played her cards blind, knowing she was losing but unwilling to fold. Dream. Pleasure. And the Chameleon Wild.