The Deck of Omens

by Christine Lynn Herman

  “You’re a coward.” The words came from deep in Isaac’s gut. He watched them hit his brother like a blow, but he didn’t regret them. “You’re right that we didn’t ask for this. But this is our life. Our family. Our responsibility.”

  “You don’t understand,” Gabriel said, leaning forward. “Something is coming, Isaac. The corruption is just a symptom. We haven’t even seen the full disease yet.”

  Suspicion bloomed in Isaac’s mind. A few days ago, Gabriel had been ready to stand by his side. A few weeks ago, Gabriel had a root crawling under his skin.

  “Who told you this?” he asked.

  Gabriel averted his eyes. “No one,” he mumbled. “Common sense.”

  But Isaac knew he was lying. Something had happened, something to scare Gabriel away. And he wanted to know what.

  “I thought you meant it when you said you regretted leaving me after the ritual,” he said. “I was even thinking about why you came here. About letting Mom go. But if you’re running now, then I guess you haven’t changed at all. And I never should have listened to you in the first place.”

  Gabriel’s face shuttered. “I’m not running. I’m trying to save your life.”

  “Oh, really?” Isaac’s power surged furiously through him, begging for release, but he forced it back. Instead, he kept his words clipped and cold. “Get out of my house. And give me my medallion back. You don’t deserve it.”

  Isaac was unsurprised by how quickly Gabriel listened to him. The door slammed shut, and the only proof that he’d ever come back at all was the cracked medallion sitting on the couch cushion. Isaac scooped it up, closed his hand around it, and let his power free, shuddering. In mere moments, it had crumbled to ash.

  And now he was all alone again, the only Sullivan left to fight against the rising tide of disaster.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The woods behind the Carlisle cottage were deathly silent. No birds sang in the branches; no animals rustled in the dying underbrush. It was a defeated, uneasy sort of quiet. Harper had to fight the urge to hold her breath, to make her footsteps as soft as possible.

  The evacuation was nearly finished, and Harper could not shake the feeling that the lifeblood of the town was draining from it alongside most of its occupants. She tightened the bandanna over her mouth and gazed grimly out at the lake. The corrupted flowers that hung low over the water had done their job, turning the water entirely silvery and iridescent just like the lake she’d seen in the Gray.

  Although it was a disturbing sight, the lake still kindled a warmth in her chest. It reminded her of the kiss—a kiss that Harper had held gently inside herself like a great candle burning in her rib cage. She and Justin had managed to get to the Carlisle cottage afterward, where they’d gotten a ride back to town from Seth. She’d woken up to the news of the evacuation, and from that moment onward it had consumed both of their focus.

  Harper knew they would have to talk about it eventually, but she didn’t feel ready. It had only been a day, after all, and she wanted to keep this one good thing safe and untarnished for a little while longer.

  For now, though, she needed to focus. She and Violet had spent the afternoon trying to keep the corruption as contained as they could, but their efforts could only slow it, not stop it. They’d started with the Sullivan ruins, then moved on to the Carlisle lake, where Harper touched trunk after trunk, strengthening the red-brown stone she’d used to cloak the trees while Violet protected her from stray flailing branches. But to Harper’s dismay, her power was not working the way it had when she’d helped Justin. She had more control over it—that hadn’t changed—but she could feel whatever energy lurked within the trees growing stronger.

  Harper wasn’t sure how much time they had left before all their efforts failed, but she knew it was coming soon. All they’d done was put a Band-Aid on a gaping wound. Violet had headed back to the town hall to regroup, but Harper hesitated, lingering at the edge of the trees.

  She sighed, cast the lake a final glance, and walked over to the cottage. When she saw the cars in the driveway, her stomach sank.

  She’d thought her family was already gone. But she’d timed it wrong, and instead she heard the telltale noise of children from inside the house. She was about to turn and hightail it back into the woods when the front door opened and Brett and Nora spilled out. They saw her immediately, of course, and rushed across the lawn, both bundled in their winter coats and clutching backpacks full of toys.

  “Are you coming with us?” Nora asked, looking hopeful.

  Harper shook her head, her heart heavy. “I have to stay. But I’m going to help make it so you can both come back soon, okay?”

  “That’s what Mitzi and Seth said.” Brett‘s voice snaked up into a high-pitched whine. “And they said I’m too young to help protect everybody—”

  “That’s not true,” Harper said quickly, placing her hand on his shoulder and looking him in the eyes. “You and Mom are going to protect Nora and baby Olly, aren’t you?”

  Brett sniffled. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess we are.”

  “Harper.” The familiar sound of her father’s voice made Harper stiffen, her heartbeat speeding up. They hadn’t spoken since he’d gotten his memories back; he had called her a few times, but she hadn’t responded. “Can we talk?”

  Harper hesitated. Brett and Nora were looking at them both, visibly confused. “I… I don’t know.”

  “Please.”

  The word was so soft, Harper thought for a moment that she hadn’t heard it at all. This was him, begging her. Harper knew she could walk away if she wanted to. But it was the knowledge that it was her choice, that she was capable of saying no, that made her nod.

  “All right.”

  They wound up standing awkwardly at the edge of the driveway. Brett and Nora had been sent inside, to “help” their mother finish packing. Harper didn’t feel entirely comfortable alone with him, but she didn’t want the kids to see this.

  “So,” Maurice began, “I’ve given all of this a lot of thought. What happened with the Church… what happened with us.”

  She could see the pain in Maurice’s eyes, the devastation on his face. But she felt no regret or shame. He was her father, and he had tried to kill her. She’d thought that maybe once he got his memories back she’d feel as if there were some possibility for reconciliation, or healing. But now Harper realized that she did not want either of those things.

  He had allowed the Church to turn him into a monster. There was no world in which she forgave him for that.

  “I told your mother what happened,” he continued. “We’ve both agreed that it’s best I leave town. Not just for the evacuation—for good. It’s not safe for me to be around you anymore.”

  Harper’s throat went dry. Out of all the things she’d thought he might say, she’d never expected this. Maybe he wanted her to beg him to stay. Maybe he wanted her to promise that there was a chance for this, for things to heal.

  Harper would not give him false hope.

  “Good,” she said softly. “I’m glad you understand that family is a privilege, not a right.”

  “Yes. It’s a privilege I don’t deserve anymore.” Maurice’s voice shook, but he continued on, the words hoarse. “I know you might think I’m a coward for doing this. But I love you, Harper. I’m sorry. And I will spend the rest of my life atoning for what I’ve done.”

  Then he turned and walked toward the car.

  Harper understood that it was probably the last time she would ever see him. She didn’t speak. She didn’t move. The car pulled out of the driveway, exhaust drifting into the crisp fall air, and Harper felt grief and guilt and relief course through her all at once.

  Then she took a deep breath, wiped away her tears, and walked back to the Carlisle cottage, pushing open the front door.

  “Hey, Mom?” she called out, determined not to let the last few minutes overwhelm her. “I’m here to help you pack.”

  It took almo
st a half hour to get the younger Carlisles out the door. Harper bundled Brett and Nora into the car, kissed a babbling Olly on the forehead, then turned to her mother.

  She had never had much to say to Laurie Carlisle. But today, she had two words.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, and her mother smiled, pain trembling at the edge of her face.

  “You’ll come home?” she asked. “When we’re back?”

  Harper nodded. “I will.”

  And then they were gone, too. Which left Harper, Seth, and Mitzi standing awkwardly on the porch. They were too powerful to be enticed into leaving. Harper had felt their gazes boring holes into her the entire time she’d been packing.

  She braced herself for impact, just as she had back at the Saunders manor the month before.

  “Well, go on,” she said. “I know you’ve got shit to say.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us about Dad?” Mitzi asked, yanking on a lock of her long red hair.

  “I didn’t know what to say,” Harper said. “Or if you’d even believe me. You didn’t seem to give a shit about Augusta.”

  “He tried to kill you.” Seth glared at her. “That’s pretty different from what the sheriff does with her powers.”

  “Seriously, Harper, did you think we wouldn’t care?”

  “Of course I thought you would care!” Harper hesitated. “There was just no good way to tell you.”

  “But your friends knew, didn’t they?” Mitzi asked. “You let them in.”

  Harper caught the implication of Mitzi’s words. Her siblings were right—she’d left them out. Kept the truth from them the same way so many truths had been kept from her. She hadn’t intended to lie and run away, but that didn’t matter. She’d done it anyway.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have told you the truth.”

  “Thank you,” Seth said. “And we’re sorry, too. That you felt like you couldn’t.”

  “I just don’t understand,” Mitzi said. “Why did you leave us alone with him when you knew he was dangerous?”

  Harper’s chest ached at the betrayal in her sister’s eyes.

  “I know how messed up it sounds, but I think… even after everything Dad did, part of me still wanted to protect him. It felt cruel to punish him for a crime he couldn’t remember committing.”

  So instead, she’d punished everyone but her father for his mistakes. The shame of it threatened to swallow her whole. But Harper knew she had to stare it down, because letting this go any further would only hurt them all more.

  “Oh,” Mitzi whispered, her brown eyes wide and watery.

  “You deserved better,” Harper continued, her voice wobbling. “I haven’t exactly been the best sister, but I’m going to change that.”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” Mitzi murmured. “At least, not right now.”

  Seth nodded. “We need more time. To think about Dad. I know you’ve been sitting with this for months, but for us it’s all new.”

  “Is this okay?” Mitzi asked anxiously.

  “Yeah,” Harper said. “That’s okay.”

  She sat on the front stoop for a long while after they had both walked away. She had a patrol shift that evening. She needed to make sure her stuff was undisturbed at the town hall. But all she could think about was how right Seth and Mitzi were to be upset with her.

  Harper’s residual limb ached as she thought of how she’d shoved them both aside. She hadn’t let them be part of her story; she hadn’t told them the truth about their dad. She would give them the space they had asked for, but when they were ready, she hoped they would be able to heal their relationship.

  Harper craved freedom, but she saw now that freedom did not mean solitude, nor did it mean avoiding responsibility and connection. It meant embracing the bonds that mattered. And it meant admitting to mistakes and regret, even when they asked her to look at the difficult, tangled pieces of herself.

  She turned her gaze to the front lawn, where the statue garden stared back at her.

  So far, her powers had only extended to turning things to stone. But she hadn’t tested the other part. The ability that the most powerful Carlisles were known for above all else: the capability to control the stone creatures they created.

  Harper saw in that moment that she’d been frightened of what might happen should she succeed, that once again her abilities might spiral out of control. But if she could make this power work, she could give them a better shot against the corruption. It was worth a try. So she shook the fear back, took a deep breath, and rose to her feet, scanning the statue garden.

  There was a fox at the far edge of the lawn that seemed like a good candidate: almost perfectly preserved, eyes wide and alert. She knelt down, her heart racing, and stretched out her hand. The stone was cool beneath her fingertips, and Harper felt her power hum through her, begging to be used, begging to show her what it could do.

  For a moment she hesitated, that familiar fear threatening to overwhelm her. She didn’t want this to be like when she’d run after May, or when she’d hurt the tree.

  Other memories surfaced a moment later, though. Harper’s hand shooting out to catch the root before it could hurt Justin. Rushing to the spire to help Violet. And at last, she understood. Her powers were only uncontrollable when she called on them from a place of rage. But she didn’t want this to work because she was angry. She wanted this power to protect the people she loved.

  Her palm tingled. Energy crackled through her palm and into the statue’s forehead.

  “Wake up,” Harper whispered, and she knew before she was even finished speaking that it had worked. She watched, eyes wide, as its tail twitched, then its ears. She hesitantly removed her thumb from its forehead as the animal rose into a graceful stretch. Its sculpted, unblinking eyes were locked on her.

  “I did it,” she muttered, moving her hand away hesitantly from the guardian. And she had done it. She just wasn’t sure what came next. This wasn’t like the Saunderses’ companions—she couldn’t feel a tether like the one Violet had described.

  And yet the stone fox was still gazing at her expectantly, the tip of its tail twitching.

  “Hmm,” she said quietly. “Will you… guard the lake?”

  The fox didn’t move.

  Harper pressed her fingers to its forehead and repeated the command. This time, the change was immediate. It bolted away, its stride quick and purposeful as it bounded through the maze of other statues until it was at the edge of the lake. Then it curled up in front of a tree, its eyes staring outward, and froze again.

  “Whoa,” Harper said. Then she turned, staring at the sea of half-disintegrated statues around her, a myriad of possibilities, an army all her own. And smiled.

  Four Paths was deserted. No one loitered outside the grocer’s or the bar; the general store was empty, a CLOSED sign flipped over in the window, and a deadbolt was lodged firmly across the front doors of the library. The shuttered windows gazed at them in the center of the town square like dozens of empty eye sockets.

  The entire thing made Violet incredibly uneasy. It wasn’t supposed to look like this. It was proof that they had lost a battle their families had been fighting for over a hundred and fifty years.

  If battle was even the right word for it, based on what Violet had potentially discovered. Violet stared anxiously at Juniper, who was standing beside her, gazing at the photo of the letter on Violet’s phone screen. Normally she would have died before willingly handing over her phone to her mother, but this patrol had been her first chance to be alone with Juniper since the announcement of the evacuation.

  They’d been assigned to watch the founders’ seal together, since it was clear by now that this was the most likely place the corruption would strike next. But Violet wasn’t going to lose another opportunity to explain to her mother that she’d discovered something potentially important.

  “Who have you shown this to?” Juniper asked sharply as soon as she was finished, loweri
ng the screen.

  “May,” Violet said. “No one else. There’s been so much going on—I didn’t want to overwhelm them.”

  “Well, I appreciate you telling me that you uncovered this.” Juniper handed back the phone, her brow furrowed. “I assume you’re wondering about the validity of this potential claim?”

  “Aren’t you?” Violet asked hoarsely. She could not shake the feeling that this was all tied together: the murky origins of the Beast, the corruption invading the town’s sacred places, the humanity she sensed in her tether to the trees. She just couldn’t figure out how.

  “I’m not wondering, I know,” Juniper said softly. “Everything you read in that letter is true.”

  Violet’s entire body went cold. “What do you mean, you know it’s true?”

  “I hoped I’d never have to tell you.” Beside her, Juniper looked utterly miserable. “But yes, Violet, it’s true. Our ancestors created the Beast.”

  Violet’s world rolled and spun frantically on its axis. Her legs wobbled, her hands clammy with sweat. The mausoleum and the town hall spun, all of it blurring together in her field of vision until she thought she might pass out.

  “How long?” she whispered. “How long have you known this?”

  “Oh, Violet.” Juniper reached for her hand, but Violet snatched it away.

  “We said no more secrets. No more lies.”

  The words rang out across the deserted town square, accusatory and furious. Juniper winced beneath their weight.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “I don’t want your apology.” They had been through so much together, and Juniper was still hiding things from her. After they’d worked so hard to build trust. After Violet had finally started to feel as if she had a mother. “I want to know what you know.”

  Juniper’s inclined head was a nod and a surrender. “It started when I was seventeen,” she began. “At the time, I was tapped to be the future leader of the Saunders family. Back then, it meant being the mayor, and it came with certain knowledge in order to ensure the safety of the town, passed down from one mayor to the next.”