by Sarah Fine
The deck was cold in her hand.
“Please,” she said again. “I’m so sorry I left you alone.” She could have sworn she felt the slightest pulse of warmth beneath her fingertips. “Okay, I’m really sorry. It was dumb to leave you unprotected. I won’t do it again. Come on, snake. We can be on the same team.”
The deck flashed hot against her skin, a heat that spread up her arm. Her left arm. She pulled up her sleeve and peered down at the inside of her forearm, where a long patch of her skin had gone pink and taut. Was that the shape of a snake? Pushing down a shudder of revulsion at the thought of a snake anywhere near her, let alone on her body, Ernie turned back to the cards. “Will you help me?” she asked, wincing as Gabe let out a strangled curse. His thigh was bleeding badly; his right pant leg was soaked with red, and though the kestrel was keeping Akela’s attention, it seemed smaller now, and slower. The Wolf Spider Dealer threw one of her cards into the air, and it struck the bird, sending it to the ground.
“Help me,” Ernie said to the deck, and this time it wasn’t a request. “I need you. Now.” Her left arm throbbing, she got to her knees and held up the cards. Should she command them to protect Gabe? The bird? Or—“Get back what she stole from me,” she said loudly. First things first.
A card leapt from the thin deck in her right hand. A surge of heat shot through her left arm as she reached out and plucked it from the air. For a moment, nothing happened. Ernie frowned.
Then Akela screamed. Ernie turned, the card still held tight between her fingers, and her eyes went wide.
The kestrel was in the air again—and it was now the size of a freaking horse, its wings blocking out the sun, its razor-sharp talons looking ready to gut the enemy Dealer. With a sudden lunge from the sky, it raked at Akela’s back and sliced the strap of Ernie’s purse, sending the bag tumbling to the ground, spattered with the enemy Dealer’s blood.
“I fold!” shrieked Akela as the hang-glider-sized kestrel swooped over her head, wing beats rattling the branches of nearby trees and sending a flurry of gold leaves to the ground. The wolf spider jumped off Gabe and charged for its master. It leapt into the air as the kestrel’s talons sliced only inches from its body. Her back soaked with blood, Akela threw out her arm, and the monster spider shimmered and blurred in the air, landing in a mass of swirling color on her skin. Then, in a flourish of blood and cards, Akela vanished.
Ernie sat in the middle of the driveway, still clutching the card between her fingers, its symbol two triangles stacked on top of each other. She’d done it. Or she’d done something. She let out a weak chuckle and tried to get up. Her body couldn’t obey her, though. A little cry of horror burst from her as she realized she was numb from the waist down, and she barely caught herself with her arms as she toppled over into the gravel. The slash on her belly was still bleeding, but it no longer hurt. Ten minutes ago Ernie would have been grateful, but now it was just ominous. What happened when this numbness reached her chest? Her heart? “Gabe?” she called, turning her head to look for him. “I . . . can’t move.”
“Keep your hair on,” he snapped. He was sitting next to the big burned-out spot that had once contained Ernie’s car, the now-shrunken kestrel perched on his shoulder, a card pressed to his leg, and a hard grimace on his face. There were deep circles under his eyes. The bird gently nipped at his hair, pulling a leaf from his tangled blond locks.
“My hair’s not really the issue,” Ernie said. Breathing was becoming an effort. Black spots swirled in front of her eyes. She had that sense that she was falling again, unable to throw her arms out and stop the plunge. The sky above her was blue and clear, the perfect fall morning, and Ernie was sinking, too heavy to lift her head.
Gabe’s sweaty face appeared over hers. The kestrel was no longer on his shoulder. “Hold on now, darlin’. Don’t go anywhere just yet.”
“I’m scared,” she wheezed. She couldn’t feel anything below her shoulders now, except the sense that an elephant was sitting on her chest.
Gabe drew a card and showed it to her. The symbol on its face looked a little like a B made out of two sideways triangles, with one diagonal line jutting out of its spine and extending up to the left—she’d seen that one before, but at this moment she couldn’t remember what it was. Beneath the symbol, Ernie saw liquid, maybe blood, swirling and beading. Next, he slid a second card from behind the first, with a symbol that sort of resembled a key. Gabe drew Ernie up to sitting and allowed her to lean on him, her back to his front. Then, with his arms around her, and the talons of the kestrel visible in ink on his inner wrist, peeking out from the sleeve of his jacket, he pressed both cards to her chest.
Ernie gasped as the most amazing feeling washed over her, all warmth and ecstasy, all the good things in the world at once. It flooded her veins and crowded her vision with sparks, and when they cleared, she could move again. “Whoa.”
“You’ll be fine now.” Gabe’s arms disappeared from around her, and he was on his feet again so quickly that Ernie nearly tumbled backward. “And if you’re finished trying to get us killed, I suggest we get out of here.”
Flinching at the anger in his voice, Ernie crawled over to her purse, breathing relief when she saw that the metal plates were still tucked safely inside. “I didn’t try to get us killed,” she grumbled.
“No? You took off this morning on a lark?”
“I needed to check on my mom,” she said. “And I don’t have to explain myself to you.” She thought back to the sight of Gabe huddled in a shadowy corner with some unknown guy and reminded herself firmly that he was not necessarily her friend. “What do you even want from me, anyway? You’re hoping I’ll get my mom to give you what you came here for?”
“And what would be wrong with that?” He scraped his hand through his messy hair and pulled it back into a ponytail, fastening it with a band he pulled from his wrist. “Especially because last I counted, I’ve saved your life about three times since we met.”
“And tried to kill me a few times, too,” she sniped. “You have your own reasons for helping me. Ulterior motives.”
“Everyone in the world’s got those. Only children believe otherwise.”
“Ugh.” Ernie tied the torn straps of her bloodied purse together and slung it across her chest. “I just saved us, with that card.”
He scoffed. “You had no feckin’ idea what you were doing. You could have hurt Caera, and you’re damned lucky you didn’t, because then I really would have killed you.”
“Caera? You mean your bird?”
“Aye, the bird—the one that saved your bloody life a moment ago.”
Ernie crossed her arms over her chest. “Well. Thank you. That spider was nasty.”
“That spider belongs to a Dealer who will stop at nothing to get what she wants.”
“That seems to describe all of you! And hey—are you tracking me? How did you know where I was?”
“Apart from it being bleeding obvious, yes, I did track you, because as soon as I got back to the room with some coffee and breakfast, I realized you’d bolted and were probably off being a complete muppet.”
“All I wanted to do was check on my mom, and you’re the one who told me Duncan would attack her again,” shouted Ernie, her voice breaking. “You knew I only cared about her, and you didn’t leave a note. You didn’t—” She threw her arms up. Then she looked down at her feet and turned in place. “What—”
“Looking for these?” Gabe pulled her half deck from his pocket.
Ernie swallowed. “Give them to me.”
Gabe arched his scarred eyebrow. After a long, loaded moment, he slapped them into her upturned palm. “Every time you wonder whether you can trust me, remember that I hold your life in my hands every moment we’re together. And I haven’t harmed you.”
“Yet,” she muttered as she pressed the deck to her now-mended stomach and checked her arm. No pink shadow of the snake, no tattoo. The ecstatic, sparkly feeling of being healed was fading fast, along w
ith the adrenaline of fighting for her life, and suddenly all she wanted was another few hours of sleep.
Gabe glanced toward the road, then at the house. “Is your ma okay?” His gaze streaked along the thin line of salt that curved around the front of the house, as well as the tiles just inside the perimeter. “And she played so innocent.”
“She is,” said Ernie, glaring at him. “It’s not her fault a bunch of thugs are trying to bully and steal from her.” It was her dad’s fault. Just thinking about it made her want to punch something.
Gabe tilted his head. “You’re playing awfully innocent, too.”
Ernie groaned. “Yeah? How about you? Acting all noble and unselfish, when both of us know you’re in this for yourself.”
He looked away. “I never claimed to be innocent.”
Ernie gripped the strap of her purse and looked up at the shop, the house that was now shielded by an invisible barrier that was probably the only thing keeping her mother safe from the Dealers, including Gabe, for the moment. “I need to make sure my mom isn’t freaking out.”
Ernie walked forward, her hand out. When she reached the invisible barrier, she leaned against it. Gabe whistled. “Nice one,” he murmured, eyeing the animal tiles. “I’ve never seen a complete set. How does she have these?”
“I’m not entirely sure.” Gabe looked like a slightly more dangerous version of the classic Asheville bohemian, long hair and ripped jeans, which were, okay, soaked with the blood he’d shed as he saved Ernie’s butt from the terrifying spider woman. He was clearly an ally for now, but she wasn’t about to tell him about her dad yet, about how he’d sent artifacts to her mom for safekeeping, about how he was still out there somewhere. Despite that omission, she needed Gabe. And she needed to tell him about the plates in her purse. But she had other priorities, too. “Will you hold my deck for me for a minute? I’m working on that trust thing.” And it wasn’t easy—Ernie knew only too well how easy it was for people to walk away from her. “I need to check on my mom.”
Gabe put out his hand. Ernie held out her deck. It pulsed cold against her palm. “He’s a friend, okay? He’ll protect you. Not the same thing as putting you in a box, all right?”
Gabe laughed. “Oh, this is a positive development.”
“Shut up,” Ernie said, her cheeks growing warm as the chill of the deck faded. She got the sense it didn’t love being in the hands of another Dealer but had accepted her explanation. She shook her head at the insanity of her thoughts, slapped the cards into Gabe’s hand, then plunged through the gelatinous barrier. “Mom?”
She climbed the steps and paused on the porch. “Mom! Hey. Don’t shoot me as I come through the door, okay?” She opened the door. “Mom?”
No answer. Ernie walked slowly to the office, but it was empty. She was headed for the bedroom when a breeze and beams of daylight reached her. Her breath quickening, she strode down the hall and looked into the old solarium. The door was hanging off its hinges, its glass panes shattered. A piece of paper lay on the floor, on top of the shards of glass.
Ernie picked it up and read the message that had been written on it, her blood draining to her feet. Tears forming, she shuffled back out the front door and through the barrier. Gabe read the look on her face and rushed over to her. “What’s happened?”
Ernie stared up at him, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Duncan got her.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Gabe tensed and looked at the house. “She’s dead?”
Ernie let out a squeak. “Not yet, but he took her! She was fine when I left. I don’t know how he got to her!” She turned around and looked at the house, and at the thin line of salt running through the grass. Her throat tight, she followed it around the house to the back. “It goes all the way around. He must have left his deck outside, but he didn’t strike me as someone who would be willing to lay down his weapons, even for a minute.”
“Akela was a distraction,” said Gabe, coming around the corner by the cellar door. “He could have stashed his cards for a few minutes, because he knew we were busy dealing with the Wolf Spider.”
“Why would she help him? Are they friends?”
Gabe shook his head. “As far as I know, Akela doesn’t have any. He must have something she wants.”
“Why wouldn’t she just steal his cards like she did mine?”
“What she wants isn’t the cards.”
“Could have fooled me.” But Gabe was right—Akela had wanted the plates, and she’d almost gotten them.
Gabe glanced at Ernie, his gaze lasering to her purse. “We need to get inside the house. Right now.”
Gabe still had Ernie’s cards, so she stepped through the gelatinous barrier. His hand hovered protectively over his chest pocket, where Ernie knew he kept his deck. It was clear that leaving his cards outside was a nonstarter. “Hang on,” she said, scanning the wooden tiles laid out on the ground. They were in the grass, every foot or so, face up, simple carvings that held the power to keep a Dealer at bay. The spider was there, along with a raccoon, an octopus, a monkey, a beetle of some type—Ernie shuddered at the thought of a giant roach creature bearing down on her—and there it was, the kestrel. Ernie frowned. “The serpent tile was here before.” She jogged along the line of tiles. “It’s gone.”
Gabe cursed. “He probably took it, which gives him another advantage. He’ll be able to keep the diamondback with him by using that tile.”
It felt like all Ernie’s blood had drained to her feet. “You mean my cards won’t work?”
“It’s more complicated than that, but those tiles are barrier runes. They’re rare, and I’ve never seen such a collection. They can be used to shield and block the animal spirits, but like our cards, they require intention and concentration.”
“So if he’s distracted, the snake can wander away?”
“Or if he’s sleeping. I suppose we’ll have to see.” He didn’t look hopeful, and that made Ernie’s heart sink.
Pushing her doomsday thoughts aside, Ernie picked up the kestrel tile and slid it into her pocket before saying, “Try it now.”
Gabe put his hand out. His palm flattened against the invisible wall, and he leaned, pushing forward, until his arm punched through. It took him a full minute to make it, and watching it was one of the stranger things she’d seen that day, which was saying something. He looked as if he were running himself through an invisible pasta machine, each part of his body being compressed and flattened before emerging on the other side, looking distinctly squished. Before she had a chance to comment, though, he was at the back door, which was hanging open and had a shattered window. Ernie could only imagine how scared her mother had been hearing the glass break, the heavy footsteps on the old wooden floorboards, the hard voice she would have known meant terrible danger.
“He and Akela could have just teamed up to get me,” Ernie said, fighting tears. “Why do it this way? Why involve her?”
“Two reasons,” said Gabe. “One, because he wanted the Marks and thought they were in here, and two, because he didn’t want to face me, even with Akela’s help.”
“Marks?”
“Those metal plates . . . They’re called Forger’s Marks, and if Duncan gets them, he could burn down the world.”
She clamped her hand over her purse. “You know I have them.”
“You shouldn’t try to keep secrets from a Dealer.” He arched an eyebrow. “At least until you learn how to play your Deceive card. Which is one of the cards you have, by the way.”
Ernie shook off his tone of challenge; she just wasn’t up to it at the moment. She raised her hand and proffered him the note. “He wants to exchange my mom for the Marks.”
Gabe snatched it from her, read it, and crushed it in his fist.
“Want to tell me what they are?” she asked. “Why does everybody want them?”
“Hang on.” Gabe stalked into her mom’s office, opened the Hoosier cabinet, looked inside again, and shut the doors. Then he began loo
king through her mother’s desk drawers.
“What the heck do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
“Looking for sustenance,” he said, digging under some papers in the middle drawer.
“You’re more likely to find it in the kitchenette down the hall, but really, I don’t think she has much in the way of—”
With a cry of triumph, Gabe stood up holding a half-full bottle of Jim Beam. “Glass?”
“It’s not even noon yet.”
“It’s suppertime in Ireland, darlin’. I’ll tell you all you need to know once I’ve taken a bit of the edge off.”
“Good grief.” Ernie headed out into the shop and grabbed two shot glasses—one depicting General Lee and the other General Forrest, part of the Confederate Generals collection—from the southern gothic china hutch. It doubled as a display case, lit from the inside by little button lights she’d installed last summer after Mom had complained people couldn’t read the price stickers without opening the hutch and putting their smudgy fingerprints all over the goods. Ernie scratched off the stickers—only five bucks, as the glasses weren’t exactly rare antiques, more like cheap people-pleasing junk—and brought the glasses back to Gabe, who was sitting at Mom’s desk, which looked a few sizes too small for him.
She set down the two glasses in front of him. When he gave her a look, she said, “You’re not the only one who’s having a day. I nearly died just now, which might be kind of exhilarating if I weren’t already dying.” The severe muscle aches had returned now that the adrenaline had worn off, reminding her the clock was ticking.
Gabe grunted and poured a slug into each glass. He downed his own and poured another before Ernie got the first to her mouth. It burned all the way down, and she sank into a chair. The plates clanked softly as her purse settled onto her lap. Gabe’s eyes met hers. “The Forger is our creator,” he said. “He makes the decks.”
“What is he? A god?”
Gabe finished his second shot and gazed at the Confederate general on his glass. “Not many wars I can think of where the loser is celebrated.”
