The Serpent (The Immortal Dealers Book 1)

by Sarah Fine

  “Do you know who Gabe and Duncan are?”

  “Duncan is the snake fellow’s name?”

  “Apparently.”

  “That rattler just appeared on my floor,” Mom said, glancing at a bare patch of floorboards in front of Ernie’s feet. “It must have been hiding in his sleeve, but it seemed to crawl right off his arm. I thought it was my panic, but I could have sworn . . .”

  Ernie shivered. “Had you seen cards like the ones he had before?”

  “I’ve seen all sorts of cards through my occult business, mostly online. A lot of hand-drawn tarot and such. But the ones he had . . .” Mom ran her fingertips over some papers on the desk, her eyes unfocused. “I couldn’t actually get a look at their faces. I could see symbols, but it was as if they were—”

  “Blurry?”

  Mom nodded. “Whatever they were, he seemed very attached to them. He flew into a rage after you ran off with some, and he hasn’t been back since. I have the salt barrier up, though, so perhaps he has.”

  “What were those tiles you put inside the barrier? Did you make them?”

  Her mom looked away from her and let out a nervous chuckle. “Oh, no . . .”

  Ernie’s eyes narrowed. “You know more than you’re telling me.”

  Mom sighed. “I’ve received packages from your father before.”

  “What?”

  “Only a few, every few years or so. But one included those animal tiles and instructions for how to protect our house. After Mr. Carrig stopped by and indicated many others were interested in this item”—she tapped her finger on the metal box—“I figured it was a good time to try it out. I just hadn’t had a chance to finish it when Mr. Snake showed up.”

  Ernie rubbed a spot above her eyebrow that was throbbing with painful tension. “Mom, do you know what an Immortal Dealer is?”

  “A what?”

  “An Immortal Dealer. That’s apparently what Duncan was, with his cards. Gabe is one, too.”

  Her mom frowned as Ernie explained what she knew, which wasn’t much. “There are myths and legends about fortune-tellers and seers,” her mom said when Ernie paused. “A card game with the devil is a common motif, and spirit animals, of course . . . But a living deck of cards? Your father would have known how to find the answer.” She looked sad and small, the way she always did when she talked about him. “Maybe he did know, in fact, if he sent me something that had to do with them.” She sat up straighter, as if trying to pull herself back together. “I could do some research.”

  Ernie watched her mother’s skinny fingers dance over the surface of the sachet. The office reeked of sage, and as Ernie looked at the windowsill by the radiator, she could see it was studded with a row of rusty iron nails hammered half in but sticking up like an invitation to a tetanus party. Ernie turned in place and realized the doorframe was similarly decorated, only with dozens of little charms hanging off the nails. The effect was both sad and a little creepy.

  “I’ve been sleeping in here,” her mother said as she shuffled over to the shelf and squinted at the books. “I won’t let them get me. Or those.” She gestured toward the plates.

  “When was the last time you ate?” Ernie asked.

  Her mother looked down at herself, which was when Ernie realized she hadn’t changed since Sunday—she was wearing the same tea-stained shirt. “Oh, I found some crackers in one of my drawers . . .” She laughed to herself. “Always a nice little surprise.”

  Ernie stepped closer to the desk. “You can’t hole up in here forever.”

  “I’m the one your father sent those things to,” she whispered. “He trusted me to protect them.”

  In other words, her mom was willing to sleep on a dusty floor and starve herself to death just because Ernie’s dad had taken the time to send her some random metal plates to hold for him. Rage at her father shot through her. “You need to get out of here, Mom. This isn’t healthy.”

  “Oh, I can’t leave. I won’t ever leave. This Duncan fellow said he was coming back for the plates, and I believe him.”

  Ernie squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for patience. “Okay, then I’m leaving. And I’m taking the plates with me.”

  “No, I don’t think—”

  “I’m taking them,” Ernie snapped. “First off, the plates have something to do with them—the Immortal Dealers. Two of them showed up and tried to take the plates from you, which means that more will probably come, and maybe you’ve noticed—those guys are dangerous. I have to figure out what these plates are, keep them away from the wrong Dealers, and . . . maybe find Dad and give them back to him.” Ernie had no idea whether her father knew what he’d stepped into or had simply found a valuable artifact and asked the wife he’d abandoned to hold it for him, but he shouldn’t have dumped it on her, leaving her vulnerable. He should be here, protecting her for once. But in his absence, Ernie would step in. As always.

  “There was no postmark on the box,” said her mom. “Or really, it was torn off. I don’t know where he sent it from.”

  “Typical,” Ernie spat.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She grabbed the box. “I’m going to take care of this so the psychos don’t come a-knocking, and you’re going to stay here until I come back with a load of groceries.”

  “But the plates are safe in here,” Mom said, gesturing at the windowsill, at the door, and then outside. “I’m safe in here. You’re safe in here. I have charms and barriers—”

  “None of which kept me out.” In fact, it hadn’t even taken Ernie that long to figure out how to get in, and she had no idea what she was doing.

  Her mother laughed tremulously. “But you’re not a bad guy.”

  Ernie let that one go. She wasn’t sure what she was right now. “None of this will hold them back for long, Mom.”

  “But it’s safer in here than it is out there! Ernestine, your safety is my priority.”

  “Then find whatever else Dad sent you and hold on to it for me. Maybe I’ll be able to put it to good use.”

  “How are you going to—”

  No idea. “Don’t worry, okay? I’ll be back soon.” Ernie looked around and spotted her purse perched on the radiator, and her phone, which her mother had apparently salvaged from under the cabinet after the snake had departed with its owner. The battery was dead, of course, so she chucked it into the purse along with the box and slung the bag over her shoulder.

  She kissed her mom goodbye, then walked out of the house and down the steps, through the gelatinous barrier, and onto the driveway. With the box clanking in her bag, she jogged over to the carport, thinking that a long, hot bath and about a dozen Motrin needed to be in her near future.

  When she rounded her mom’s Volvo, planning to dig out the key and use it to drive to the grocery store, she realized the toolbox was gone. “Oh, god,” she muttered as she heard steps crunching outside. She whirled around, expecting to see either Duncan or Gabe, equal dread rising at the thought of each.

  But it was neither of them. Standing in the driveway was a woman with long, dark hair, olive skin, and large eyes that were an impossible black. She was wearing boots, brown leather pants, and a tan duster. In one of her hands she held a deck of cards. In the other, this stranger held the toolbox where Ernie had hidden the cards she’d taken.

  The woman’s lips were red, and she was smiling as she held up the box. “Were you looking for this?”

  “Not sure why you snuck into the carport and stole my toolbox, but yeah, I’d like it back.” Ernie’s heart had started to pound, both with fear and an odd sense of protectiveness. The cards had never done anything but help her, and now they needed her help. She took a few steps forward.

  The woman’s eyes flashed as she skipped well out of Ernie’s reach, her movements agile and quick. “Could I interest you in a trade?” the woman asked.

  “What do you want?”

  “What you have in your purse.”

  “A few energy bars, a dead phone, and
some lip balm? Sure. Sounds fair.”

  The woman rolled her eyes, which, now that Ernie was a little closer, seemed to bulge like dark orbs from her head. She inhaled deeply as she stroked the deck in her hand. “I sensed you had them the moment you stepped through the barrier.”

  “That might just be because I forgot to put on deodorant this morning.”

  “I can see you’re going to be difficult.”

  “Yup,” said Ernie. She was too tired and in too much pain to do much, but she knew she had to get the cards back, and she wasn’t about to hand over the hot potato in her purse until she knew what those metal plates could do. It was possible they could help her fight Duncan, and she needed any advantage she could get. “Look, it’s already been a long day. Could you be a decent person and give me back my stuff?”

  “That’s not how we do this, Dealer. I challenge you.” The woman set the toolbox down behind her.

  “You challenge me? But you’ve got my damn cards!” Rage was coiling inside Ernie’s bones, sending heat to her muscles. All she had to do was get to the toolbox. That was all she had to do. Somehow, she knew—the cards would take it from there. They had three times before, after all.

  “It’s not my fault you were so careless with your deck,” the enemy Dealer said. “I’ve been looking for some duplicates, and your cards will do nicely.”

  “But the cards won’t match,” Ernie said lamely. “They’re from different decks.”

  The woman laughed, the sound rich and dripping with confidence. “I realize you’re new to this, but I didn’t think you’d be a complete idiot.”

  “Ugh. That’s it.” Ernie charged forward, planning to shove the woman to the side, grab her cards, and run. She wasn’t huge, but she had some muscle mass and could throw a solid shoulder. This lady didn’t seem so tough.

  She was two steps away from the Dealer when a card jumped from the woman’s deck and spiraled between them. The Dealer deftly caught it and slashed it through the air. Searing pain tore across Ernie’s stomach, and she hit the ground hard.

  When she rolled over, the enemy Dealer was standing maybe ten feet away, looking completely at ease. She was still holding the card—ruby drops clinging to its bottom edge and sinking into the card’s surface. Ernie lifted her head and whimpered as she saw blood soaking her T-shirt. Her world spun.

  The woman sauntered over, scooped Ernie’s purse from the ground, and hung it across her own body. Then she raised the left sleeve of her duster, revealing a tattoo of a large spider. The tattoo began to move, and Ernie stared in terror as an arachnid as big as a freaking raccoon pulled itself off the Dealer’s arm and landed with a solid thump on the driveway.

  “Oh my god,” Ernie whispered. “That’s as bad as the damn snake.”

  The Dealer smiled as she looked down at the monstrosity that she had just released. “Go ahead, love,” she cooed to it. “I know you’re hungry.”

  The spider regarded Ernie with all eight of its hideous, bulging black eyes.

  Then it attacked.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Terror exploding in her veins, Ernie threw herself back as the spider charged. As it leapt at her, she brought both her legs up and kicked it with all her strength, even as sudden pain shot along her calf. The spider landed in the gravel a few feet away and ran at her again, all hairy legs and clicking fangs. Her heart pounding in her ears, almost drowning out the loud laughter of the enemy Dealer, Ernie pushed herself up and ran toward the house, hoping the damn spider couldn’t make it through the invisible wall her mother had erected. The pull of the cards in the toolbox was like a physical tugging at her center, but her horror was too great. Any moment, that spider would land on her back and sink its fangs into her body. Despite the agony of her wounds, she threw on a burst of speed. Her toe caught on a loose rock, and she slammed into the scrubby grass at the edge of the lawn. Only steps from the barrier, she flipped onto her back, arms up to shield her face, already knowing that would hardly be enough.

  A shriek split the morning air as a dark blur swooped over her, colliding with the spider midair. The arachnid bounced off her mother’s transparent wall and hit the walkway. The enemy Dealer let out a roar of rage. “I have no quarrel with you, Kestrel,” she shouted.

  Ernie lowered her arms. Gabe stood in the middle of the gravel drive, armed only with his cards and a glare that could melt steel. The kestrel landed on his shoulder, slight and beady-eyed, its talons sinking into the fabric of his motorcycle jacket. “You challenged my ally, Wolf Spider,” said Gabe. “So really, darlin’, you challenged me, too.”

  The spider lady’s lip curled. “Since when are you allied with the Diamondback? I understood you wanted to wipe him from the earth.” She leaned forward and spoke in a voice soft with menace. “I could help you with that.” She narrowed her eyes and glanced at the shop.

  Ernie flinched as the raccoon-sized spider skittered over to its master. She could have sworn it was keeping a few of its eyes on her, as if it planned to strike again as soon as she moved. A burning, tingling pain drew her eyes down to her calf, where her pants were ripped, the frayed edges dripping with a gluey substance, the skin beneath scored and lazily oozing blood. “Oh, god,” she whispered, glancing at the spider again as she tried to wiggle her toes—and found she couldn’t. Her foot was rapidly going numb. “Um . . . Gabe?”

  “Obviously, circumstances have changed,” Gabe was saying to the spider woman. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d give my friend back her possessions. Really, Akela, I thought you were above common thievery.” His arms hung loosely at his sides, but his left hand was working, turning the cards deftly, as if he were looking for one in particular. “Ernie,” he said without looking at her. “I need you to get up and go fetch your cards, love.”

  Akela’s boot slammed down on the toolbox. “They are mine now.”

  Gabe sighed. “You can’t claim I didn’t try.” A card leapt from the deck and arced smoothly into his right hand, and several things happened at once. Another Gabe appeared next to the carport, and this version wielded a bullwhip. As Akela brought one of her own cards up, she called out a command, and the spider sprang into motion. The kestrel took flight, screaming out in warning or fury.

  Everything was a blur. Ernie jerked to her feet again, ignoring the sick, hot feel of blood seeping into her pants and the dead weight below her left knee. She had to get to her cards, but the wolf spider was coming for her again, forcing her to scramble away from the safety of the invisible wall. The kestrel worried at the spider’s back, talons slashing, but the arachnid was fast and huge—and apparently very determined. As the bullwhip cracked in the dirt at Akela’s feet, the woman stumbled away from the toolbox and slashed a card through the air, kicking up a cloud of gravel dust that engulfed the bullwhip-wielding Gabe in a tornado of rock—which then collapsed in on itself as the man-sized mirage disappeared. With the chaos now between her and the house, Ernie limped for the woods beyond the carport, the spider only a few feet behind her and gaining fast. She said a little prayer that her mother would have the good sense to stay inside the house instead of emerging with her musket and joining the fray.

  Ernie dove over a fallen log, crying out as the motion pulled at her stomach wound. Unable to keep her balance with a numb leg, she hit the ground, with the smell of damp leaves filling her nose and sick, hot pain filling her mind. As the spider reached the log, Ernie snatched a long, crooked stick from the ground. Rolling onto her back, she slammed the stick down on the spider, which made a furious clicking sound and turned suddenly, running for its master. Before Ernie could feel relief, though, the tree branches over her head cracked and shuddered ominously. Gabe let out a shout as they all broke at once and crashed down toward Ernie. Lying there helplessly, too stunned to even try to get out of the way, all Ernie could do was watch as Gabe flung out his arm, a card held between his fingers. A fierce wind blasted through the woods, sending the falling branches to the ground several feet from Ernie.
/>   Gabe’s defense of her had given Akela an opening, though. The enemy Dealer brought her arm down, card perched at her fingertips, and Gabe cried out as blood blossomed across one of his thighs. He staggered back, arms reeling—and the wolf spider pounced on him with its fangs raised high. The kestrel dove onto its back, and they became a tangle of legs and feathers and dust. Akela watched, her shoulders shaking, possibly with laughter. The sight of her enjoying Gabe’s pain shot rage through Ernie’s muscles. Keeping low, she half limped, half crawled out of the woods. Akela’s back was to her, and the toolbox was only a few feet away. During her Spartan Races, she’d sometimes had to drag herself to obstacles with her body aching and spent, and she’d still overcome them. This wasn’t so different. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. Ernie flung herself at the box as Akela began to turn.

  In a ragged, desperate voice, Gabe barked out a command in a language Ernie couldn’t understand. The kestrel took flight, leaving Gabe to fight alone. The bird of prey rocketed toward the enemy Dealer, shrieking as it attacked. It gave Ernie the chance she needed. She ripped open the box and grabbed the cards. Akela was screeching as loudly as the kestrel now, waving her arms as the bird spiraled around her, its talons grasping at the strap of Ernie’s purse, which was slung across the woman’s back, and raking across her skin, leaving trails of blood. Gabe was still wrestling with the giant spider, but several of his cards were scattered in the dirt, and he was reaching for them with one hand while trying to keep the hairy monster at bay with the other.

  And here Ernie was, holding her half deck, with absolutely no idea what she was supposed to do with it. She looked down at the faces of the Diamondback cards. Nothing but symbols she couldn’t translate, moving pictures that weren’t clear enough for her to see. “Please,” she whispered. “I need help.”