The Serpent (The Immortal Dealers Book 1)

by Sarah Fine

  She flailed and prayed for air for what seemed like hours but was probably only a second or two, and then crashed to the ground, gasping and clutching her throat. Cooing noises drew her head up. While the other Dealers watched with raised eyebrows, Alvarez was preening and stroking someone or something no one else could see.

  “What did you do?” asked Minh.

  “I pictured a cabana and a lot of handsome pool boys,” Ernie said hoarsely.

  “How did you know?”

  “Lucky guess.”

  She was on her knees, cards pressed to her chest, and the pain was enough to keep her from feeling proud that she’d stopped the attack.

  Which was good, because somehow, Alvarez pulled himself out of the waking dream, his face contorting from a grin of pleasure to a mask of fury. Ernie pulled more cards, the only ones that sprang to mind now that her strength was sapped and she could barely see straight—Mercy. Aid. She hoped one of the other Dealers would actually help her, but none of them moved, and Alvarez had cards at his fingertips. She could tell from the look on his face that he was going to strike a lethal blow. Her arms rose, an instinctual but useless shield. Heat flashed on her left arm, and a loud rattling met her ears.

  Alvarez yelped. Legs had flown off Ernie’s arm and landed on the floor between her and the Emperor Tamarin Dealer. Even without the Amplify card, Legs was quite a specimen. “If that thing bites me, there’ll be hell to pay,” Alvarez shouted.

  Trey whooped. “The diamondback!”

  Tarlae chuckled. “Look how protective she is.”

  “Duncan must be freaking out, if she’s here with Ernie,” Trey added.

  Ernie grinned. “Thanks, Legs,” she whispered.

  Which was when Legs guttered and blurred, right there on the floor. Then she disappeared. Ernie gasped as a swell of cold pulsed through her body. “Legs?” she asked weakly.

  Nothing. Oh, god.

  Her heart pounding, her muscles feeling like bags of cement, Ernie looked around at the Dealers, expecting to see drawn decks, fighting stances. She wouldn’t be able to defend herself.

  But Trey and Tarlae were still smiling. Virginia had sat back, looking a little stunned. Alvarez had put his cane away. Minh patted her on the back. “It had to happen,” he said to Ernie. “Duncan has her trapped, and we knew she’d have to go back to him soon. But now we all know she’ll come to you again, when she can.”

  “You can play, even with a half deck. That gives us something to work with,” Tarlae said. “Something is better than nothing at all.”

  Virginia humphed and stared into the fire. Alvarez put his deck away, looking grim but no longer angry. “I still want those Marks,” he muttered.

  “We all do, you old monkey,” said Virginia. She turned up her nose at Alvarez’s glare and began to file her nails.

  Ernie looked away, preferring not to think of the Virginia residue that would be left in the house forevermore. “What now?”

  “The bastard has hidden himself again,” said Trey. “Duncan and his Dealers all disappeared right in the middle of the fight. Now we have to find him, and I’m guessing none of them are going to be that careless a second time.”

  Ernie groaned. “Why would he hide?” she shouted, but her voice was hoarse, and it was more like a croak. “He took my mom and Gabe, and presumably that’s because he wants my cards and the Marks, right? And yet he’s hiding? What the heck, dude?”

  Tarlae put her hand on Ernie’s arm. “Let us walk,” she said.

  Ernie eyed her. “Sorry, but is this one of those distract-the-newbie ploys?”

  “Nah,” said Minh. “Go get a drink of water. Try to eat something. Take a break, Ernie.” He held up his deck. “We’ll focus on trying to find Duncan, and you focus on staying strong even without . . . what did you name her?”

  Ernie’s cheeks warmed a little. “Legs.”

  Trey snorted, and Minh cracked up. “I like her,” said Trey, inclining his head toward Ernie. “This makes me like her more. Legs.”

  “An undignified name for a magnificent beast,” sniffed Virginia.

  “Plebeian,” muttered Alvarez.

  “Watch your mouth,” said Minh, who appeared to be stifling a chuckle. He shooed Ernie away and turned to sit down on the couch. Trey dropped onto the cushions next to him. Seeing them shoulder to shoulder, Ernie almost believed they could work as a team. Virginia stopped her filing and joined them while Alvarez hovered on the edge of the group, as usual, making Ernie wonder what exactly kept him there with them.

  Ernie walked back to the little kitchenette, pausing only to toss a longing look at the bedroom. She would love to exist horizontally, even for just a few minutes. She pulled a jelly jar from the cabinet and filled it with water before turning to Tarlae, who had drawn her deck.

  Ernie took a step back, and her butt hit the counter’s edge.

  Tarlae pulled three cards. “Stay still.” Then she moved forward quickly and pressed the cards to Ernie’s chest. Like when Gabe had healed her, a sparkling feeling of vitality rushed through her, though it wasn’t quite as ecstatic as it had been with him. She wondered whether that was a difference in the cards—or the Dealer. Breath rushed from Ernie’s lungs, easy, without pain.

  The jelly jar shattered in her hand, and she cried out, watching a slash on her palm heal instantly.

  “I added Strength to the Healing,” said Tarlae quietly, stepping back to give Ernie space.

  “Whoa,” said Ernie, looking down at the wet shards at her feet. She automatically walked over to the pantry, heading for the broom and a dustpan. “Thanks.”

  Tarlae inclined her head. “You will remember this favor later.”

  Ernie paused and turned to her. “Ah. I get it.”

  “You think you do.” The Dealer of the Coconut Octopus deck looked troubled and turned to gaze out the window at the starlit woods. “Have you ever been in love?”

  Ernie tensed. “No.”

  “I see.” Tarlae had moved to the window, her back to Ernie now. “I had never been in love before I met that damn raccoon.” She clucked her tongue. “And now look at me.”

  “You look pretty good to me. I wish I had your triceps.”

  “I’m here for him, understand? He feels he still owes a debt to the Kestrel, and he will not be deterred. He is a man of honor, no matter that he acts like an ass half the time.”

  Ernie chuckled. “Better than being an ass all the time, like Alvarez.”

  Tarlae looked over her shoulder. “You must survive this.”

  “I’m really gonna try.”

  “It’s not just your life on the line.”

  A chill passed through Ernie. “Trust me, I know.”

  Tarlae shook her head. “I’m not talking simply about your mother or about Gabe. Trey will sacrifice his life in this quest. I know he will.” She turned back to the window, leaving Ernie with just a glimpse of her haunted face. “Stupid fool,” she whispered.

  “So why aren’t you trying to take my cards?” Ernie asked. “Maybe you have more reason than anyone, if you think Trey’s going to get hurt trying to help me take the deck from Duncan.”

  “Not only have you not been in love—you don’t even understand it.”

  “Ouch.”

  “If I were to take his honor from him just to save his life, I’d be killing him all the same,” Tarlae explained. “He wouldn’t be the man I love anymore, and I wouldn’t be the woman he worships.”

  “So you’re here to protect him. Then why weren’t you in the clearing, helping us?”

  “He told me to stay to watch Alvarez. He doesn’t trust him. Virginia doesn’t, either.”

  “They think he might be working against us?”

  Tarlae nodded. “There is nothing we can do right now except feed him misinformation.”

  “Was that why Alvarez ended up in a different place when you guys tangled with the enemy Dealers earlier?”

  “We are being cautious for now. We want to be sure of
his betrayal before we move against him.”

  “Are you kidding? It makes sense. Alvarez might totally be on Duncan’s side,” Ernie whispered.

  “Do not let him get you alone,” Tarlae warned. “And always be ready to deal.” She played a card—Ernie assumed it was Repair—and the jelly-jar shards leapt off the floor, melded themselves together in midair, and landed neatly in Tarlae’s outstretched palm. The woman filled the jar with water and shoved it into Ernie’s hands. “It is good to stay hydrated,” she said, then left the room.

  Ernie looked down at her glass and took a little sip. “These people are all weirdos,” she whispered to her arm before remembering that Legs was gone. It was amazing how quickly she’d come to think of the diamondback as her companion, a ward against the loneliness and fear she’d been facing ever since the ordeal had started. Knowing her diamondback was with her had given her a strength and confidence she’d felt for only a few fleeting moments in her life, usually when she’d just finished a Spartan Race, with her team cheering her on either from behind or at the finish line. That feeling of strength in togetherness, of having done something great for yourself but knowing that others were literally in the trenches next to you, that it mattered to them how you did, she’d had that with Legs. She’d love to feel that with the other Dealers, but . . .

  Ernie sighed and leaned back against the counter, downing her water. “I don’t think I can count on that.” Feeling a bit stronger thanks to Tarlae, she padded down the hall to her mother’s office. She could hear the others arguing about which cards to play to find Duncan, maybe by trying to track Gabe. Trey kept telling Virginia to quit touching his cards, and she kept telling him he was doing it wrong. Seriously, they were like toddlers. Toddlers with the power to start wars. Jeez.

  Ernie ached all over, including the muscle she needed most—her heart. She shut the door to the office, blocking out the bickering. She walked around the desk and sat down where her mother had been the last time Ernie had seen her. She touched a stack of invoices, a Tar Heels paperweight, and the antique letter opener with the mother-of-pearl handle. Duncan wasn’t going to give her mother back. And he was going to kill Gabe. Just like he’d killed Jules. Based on what Minh had said, Duncan was a man without mercy.

  He’d never intended to make a fair trade. He wanted to grind Ernie into the ground. Punish her for taking what was his. It was probably for that reason more than any other that he’d taken her mother. What he wanted was to defeat Ernie in a duel, without having all her allies show up and take shots at him. And he wanted the Marks.

  She could give him only one of those two things. Ernie pulled out her deck. If Legs were still with her, she’d play the Family card, which showed one vertical line with three parallel horizontal lines bisecting it. She slid it from the deck. But what would her will be? How would she use it?

  If sentiment ruled, she’d ask to see her mother, like she’d seen Gabe in the Friend-Lover card. However bad it was, she wanted to know. Was her mother alive? Had Duncan hurt her?

  If strategy ruled, though, she’d use this card for something else. For a moment, she considered playing the Family card with the intention of turning the bickering Dealers in the parlor into a true team, but she suspected that would be a waste. It would be temporary, and if they discovered she’d literally played them? It would be worse than if she’d left things well enough alone. No, for them to become a team, she’d have to try to pull them together the old-fashioned way, but right now she just didn’t have the strength or patience.

  But the Family card was still on the desk at her fingertips, almost as if it wanted to be dealt. Ernie looked around the office at the cabinets packed with knickknacks, occult objects, old books on folk magic and witchcraft. Ernie’s father had sent the Marks here for safekeeping. He’d also sent the tiles that her mother had used to create that barrier.

  Had he sent anything else? Ernie bit her lip and slid the Tool card from the deck. To her surprise, it felt warm. A spark of hope lit in her chest. Holding her breath, she laid the Tool card over the Family card and focused with all her might. If he sent anything else, anything that could be of use, I need it now. I need everything he sent. Now.

  She leaned over the cards, trying to make out the blur beneath the Tool symbol, which looked like a goalpost with an X in the middle. Was something taking shape, or was she just—

  And there it was. The image was of an old wooden box. Brass leaf on the lid. It was there only for a moment before everything changed to blurred brown sludge once more. But it was enough to get Ernie up and moving. She spun around and began to rummage through the Hoosier cabinet behind her mother’s desk, knocking little dolls and candles and dice and at least two shot glasses to the floor in her hurry. When that search turned up nothing, she moved to the big cabinet under which Legs had been hiding the first day they met, still in the thrall of her cruel master. Had she willed the cards into Ernie’s hand that day? Had that been an attempt at gaining her freedom or at least a better life? She’d ask Legs later, when they were reunited.

  Now she needed to find that box. She didn’t know what it might contain, but she knew it was a tool, and that was enough. She pulled down books, a set of ceramic dishware, a bottle of whiskey, and more paperweights, one of which left a nasty goose egg on Ernie’s forehead as it fell. She found a pinfire pistol, a powder horn, and a bouquet of dried black roses. She found a whole stack of letters that her mother had written to her father, the address missing, the missives never sent. She almost sat down to read a few but refused to let herself be distracted.

  But after several minutes, distraction didn’t matter. The wooden box wasn’t there. Slumping with defeat, Ernie grabbed the packet of letters and the bottle of whiskey, then trudged back to the bedroom, past Alvarez’s curled lip and Tarlae’s watchful stare. She closed the door, a shield between her and them, before looking around, determination filling her once again. She rushed to the closet and rummaged through it, finding nothing but a dead mouse crushed under a box filled with encyclopedias from the ’80s, a bunch of really ugly shoes, and several dirty teacups. She pawed through her mother’s bureau, too, encountering only holey underwear, mismatched socks, and a stash of MoonPies. Nothing useful. Nothing magical. Just more reminders that her mother needed someone to look out for her. Standing next to the nightstand, Ernie chugged a few mouthfuls of whiskey before it burned too much to continue. She slammed the bottle down on the stained walnut table, making its legs shake. Her legs were shaking, too, dammit.

  She scooped up her mother’s unsent letters, afraid to read them but wanting to finally know more about what had happened to cause her father to leave them for good. But as she turned to the bed, she stumbled. The letters fell from her hands and scattered across the floor. Cursing, she crawled back and forth, picking each one up, now noticing that on some of the envelopes, her mother had written fake addresses:

  149 Losers Lane

  Cruelsville, Kentucky

  666 Severed Soul Way

  How Could You, You Bastard

  So that was pleasant, knowing how her mom had dealt with some of the anger after her dad had left. Some of the handwriting was shaky, and Ernie was betting whiskey had something to do with that. She looked around, knowing there had been a few more, and spotted one more just under the bed. She crawled over there, plucked it up, and reached under the tasseled bed skirt to see whether there were others.

  Her fingers brushed something wooden, and her cards flashed with heat. “Holy crap,” she whispered, pulling the surprisingly light wooden box out from under the bed. Brass leaf on the top.

  She sat cross-legged next to the bed. That spark of hope had turned to a wildfire, raging through her chest. Fingers trembling, she flipped the catch and opened the lid to reveal a tile with a jagged red rune carved into its polished surface.

  Wrapped around it was a note from her father. She read it. Then she looked down at the object that lay nestled in the red velvet pouch beneath. She closed
the box and took a breath.

  This might actually work.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Ernie pulled her sweater a little tighter around herself and took another sip of her Appalachian Bourbon and Ginger. She’d sneaked in her order right before last call. Gazing down at her plate of jerk chicken thighs, sweet potatoes, and collard greens, she wondered whether this might be her last meal. But if it was, the Southern Kitchen and Bar had really delivered.

  The night had turned chilly like it always did at the back end of October, even when the sun gave them some daylight warmth. Still, the patio was nice. She was surrounded by people out for a relaxing evening, and occasionally they would cast curious glances in Ernie’s direction. She didn’t know whether it was the box sitting on the table beside her, the fact that she probably looked like a chemo patient who had just escaped from the hospital, or simply that she was alone in a place where people usually came to hang out with friends for late-night snacking.

  Maybe all of the above. Ernie kept her left hand on the box, thumb stroking the brass leaf. Her cards were in her pocket but within easy reach. Her father’s words were scrolling through her thoughts. Most of the other Dealers hadn’t wanted her to take this risk, worried it might backfire. Only Virginia had been supportive of the plan, pointing out that they had no other ideas for finding Duncan.