The Deck of Omens

by Christine Lynn Herman

  Before she could respond, his eyes glazed over, a convulsion racking his body. When it finished, he wasn’t Justin anymore. He rose in stiff, jerky motions until he was sitting, his eyes flat and lifeless.

  Two of Stones, hissed the Beast’s voice in her head. You are running out of time.

  “Get out of his body,” Harper hissed, drawing her sword.

  It is… far safer here… than in the Gray.…

  “Get the fuck out!” She swung the sword forward, bristling with rage, until the tip was pressed against Justin’s throat. Roots bubbled beneath the skin, scattering away where the steel touched it. She wished she could carve them all out, but she knew doing so would only mean flaying Justin alive.

  The Beast wailed in protest, its tinny voice trailing off, and the light returned to Justin’s eyes. His face widened with surprise as his gaze locked onto hers.

  “Well,” he said weakly. “Trying to… finish me off, huh?”

  Harper hastily yanked the blade away, slotting it back into her scabbard. “That’s not funny, Justin. You know I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “It’s… a little funny.” His lips twitched. “You wouldn’t fight me under the bleachers, but you brought a sword to my sickbed.”

  “I thought I might need it.”

  “You’re something else, Carlisle.” He swayed slightly, coughing again, and Harper moved forward out of instinct, gripping his shoulder and helping prop him up against the headboard.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Now… shouldn’t you… be going?”

  “I should,” Harper said softly. “But I have to say goodbye first.”

  She had thought that if they kissed again it would not be as urgent or raw as it had been at the lake. She was right—it was more, and it was messier. His lips were rough and careless against hers, his hands tight around her waist, pulling her onto the bed until she was in his lap. This was a horrible idea, Harper knew that, but she did not care. Instead she leaned into him, trailed her lips down his cheek, his neck, his ear. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder, and she shuddered at the roots that squirmed beneath them.

  He smelled like Justin and something else, something musty and ancient, decay seeping from his very pores. She kissed him one last time, gentler now, and drew away. His hair was tousled; his earnest, perfect face was smeared with iridescent tear tracks.

  “I understand why you hid the corruption from us,” she said, disentangling herself from him and swinging her legs off the bed. “But if you die because of this, I’ll never forgive you.”

  Then she walked out of the room, ready, at last, for war.

  The walk through town was tense and quiet. Everything looked dormant and abandoned, storm shutters pulled down on most windows, cars gone, doors locked and barred. Ash coated the ground, shimmering in the cloudy, unnatural light of the off-white sky.

  Isaac was struggling to shift his thoughts from the boy they’d left behind to the battle ahead. Abandoning Justin like that had felt dangerous, like they’d come back to a body. But they didn’t really have a choice. If Gabriel hadn’t left, he thought mutinously, maybe they could’ve done something about this, even though his healing had failed before. But his brother had run away. And it was hard for Isaac not to worry that the moment he’d stopped protecting Justin, Justin had completely disregarded his personal safety.

  He knew this wasn’t his fault, or his failure, but that old guilt was tough to completely ignore. Harper wasn’t the only one who had taken this personally.

  They were not in the Gray, and yet this felt worse somehow, knowing that it was no longer contained, that their home had been swallowed whole. None of them dared to break the strange, frightened silence—as if something would come running after them if they spoke too loudly—until they reached the outside of the Carlisle cottage.

  The lake looked horrible. Isaac’s stomach churned as he eyed the choppy, iridescent water; the pulsating trees hanging dangerously low over the lakebed. Harper, though, seemed utterly unbothered.

  “Okay,” she said softly, surveying the group of statues clustered outside the lakebed, red-brown stone coated in white and gray ash. “Stand back.”

  Harper stepped forward and knelt on the ground, pressing her hand to the nearest statue’s head. Isaac’s heartbeat sped up as he watched it stir, shaking away the detritus of the Gray and walking toward them. It was a fox, he realized, and although he could tell it was stone, it moved like something living.

  Orpheus walked cautiously up to the statue and sniffed it, frowning. They circled each other as Harper moved slowly through the garden, waking the guardians up and murmuring quiet commands to each of them. When she was finally finished, looking exhausted but pleased, there were at least twenty stone creatures following in her wake.

  “That’s amazing,” Violet said, grinning at her.

  Isaac nodded in agreement. He’d heard stories about the Carlisles, but he’d never seen this power in action before.

  It was incredible, and more than that—it gave them a fighting chance.

  “Thanks,” Harper said, flushing a little bit. She turned to face the guardians, and her voice rang out across the lake, strong and sure. “Remember: Follow me. And when I tell you who your target is, attack them without mercy.”

  They headed into the woods, flanked by the soft rustlings of Harper’s stone army as they walked toward the town seal.

  They had a plan, more or less, although in Isaac’s opinion it was not a very good one. Their first priority was rescuing May. Justin had told them where Richard was in the Gray—perhaps it was naive to think he would still be there, but it was their best chance of finding him. She would be wherever he was, and then they’d have to see if the three of them were actually strong enough to take him down.

  Isaac’s palms burned in anticipation of what he was about to do as they reached the edge of the town square. The copse of trees here had grown wild and impassable, pulsating and writhing. Opening the Gray would be the easy part. The airborne corruption had thinned the veil to the point of rupture, and he could feel dozens of potential gateways all around him. All he had to do was find one and pull it open.

  Isaac took a deep breath. His hands began to shimmer, and he opened them wide, ripping a hole in the world.

  The guardians filed into the Gray at Harper’s command. She walked through after them, looking fierce and unflappable with her sword. Violet went next, pausing at the edge of the portal for a moment.

  “Hey,” Isaac said softly. “You’re not doing it alone this time.”

  She flashed him a grin. “I know.”

  And then she was gone.

  Isaac followed a moment later. It was distressingly easy—no strain on his muscles or his powers the way it had always been before, as if he’d merely had to unlock a door this time instead of make it himself and pull it open.

  When he entered the Gray, he landed in a standoff.

  Richard Sullivan stood at the edge of the town square, his hands raised, roots coiling at his beck and call from the forest that stretched behind him. Above his head was a broken white-and-gray sky, clouds roiling and clashing together like a thunderstorm.

  “Well,” he said. “You three aren’t what I was expecting. A splintered bone, a tarnished dagger, and a stone with a sword of all things.”

  Isaac realized, dread coursing through him, that his words had come out normally in the Gray, that the sound of their feet was not delayed a moment. If he looked to the horizon on all sides, he could see the world coming undone, the sharp outline of trees fading into mist. This place was falling apart at the seams, and they were at the center of its unraveling.

  “Where’s May?” he called out, trying to focus.

  “Oh, so she didn’t send you herself?” Richard said. “Disappointing.”

  Isaac didn’t believe him. Richard wouldn’t let her go that easily.

  “Don’t pretend,” Violet snapped. “We know you have her.”

  “You�
��re in such a rush to die,” Richard said, sighing. “Well. Let’s get on with it, then.”

  And the battle began.

  Harper raised her hand, and her army of stone animals rushed toward Richard. He countered with the ground itself. Corrupted roots sliced up from the dirt, coiling around red-brown stone. Isaac stared into the maelstrom, his mind churning.

  This was the man all his troubles came from. His selfishness had created the cycle of brutality that had made Isaac’s life a living hell. He was the reason why Caleb and Isaiah were dead, why his mother was dying, why he and Gabriel had been broken apart. All for this. All for power.

  This was his chance to end this cycle once and for all.

  He would make Richard Sullivan regret the day he’d turned on the other founders. And he would show him the boy who had survived his ancestor’s brutal ritual. Heat burned through him as he focused on the trees nearest to him, and then his fury surged outward, his hand brushing against the nearest trunk, which disintegrated to ash. Roots coiled around his legs, but they sloughed off into ash wherever they touched bare skin. He was on fire; he was a Sullivan, through and through, and if he could only use his power to destroy, well, then he would destroy this.

  “Not bad,” Richard said, catching his eye from across the clearing. Beside him, Harper hacked off the edge of a root that was trying to snake around her limb. They froze when they touched her, too, in a different way—crystallizing into red-brown stone. “It’s interesting to me that our kin chose you as a sacrifice. They must not have seen your potential.”

  “Nobody deserves to be sacrificed,” Isaac said flatly, locking eyes with him.

  He heard what happened next before he saw it. The ground began to shiver, stone animals jolting off-balance, and a great rushing sound emerged from behind him. Something was waking.

  The roots Richard had been wielding went limp on the ground, and all around them, surging up from the dirt, came the desiccated remnants of the woods he had tried to destroy. Roots clawed their way free of the dirt and raced toward him, taking an entire tree with them. Its branches clawed at the air as they reached for Richard. Violet was in the center of it all, her red hair whipping across her face. Her arms were outstretched, her companion at her side.

  She was radiant and terrifying, impossible to look away from. Isaac watched, his heart thumping in his chest, as she walked slowly toward Richard.

  “You’re not the only one who can handle the dead,” she said, and Isaac felt it again, a pull so powerful that she might as well have twined those roots around him, too.

  “All three of you are strong,” Richard said thoughtfully as Violet advanced on him. “I’ll give you that.”

  Violet flicked her wrist, and the tree branches whipped toward Richard’s torso. His own palms shot out, and a moment before they could touch him, they froze.

  “But,” he continued, a vicious grin growing on his face, “I’m stronger.”

  He opened his arms wide, and the roots at his feet surged up again, faster than Isaac could process. They sped forward, slicing through the air, and impaled themselves in Violet’s torso. Her body arched forward, and her scream split Isaac’s world in two.

  Suddenly Isaac was back on the altar again, listening to Caleb’s and Isaiah’s wails, his body convulsing as he struggled to burn through his restraints. Reality flickered in and out—he saw his feet moving; heard his voice roaring; saw a flash of Harper in his peripheral vision, her army swarming toward Richard in a red-brown wave.

  He struggled forward, gasping for air, until he reached Violet’s body. The roots had released her, dumped her carelessly on the ground. She lay on her side, too still, crimson leaking across her shirt. Orpheus meowed anxiously beside her, butting his head against her cheek.

  “Violet,” he breathed, kneeling beside her. “Violet, please—”

  Her eyes fluttered open, and her hands moved weakly, scrabbling across the dirt until she could push herself up into a sitting position. He let out a deep sigh of relief to see her moving—and then he saw the blood trickling down her chin.

  “Isaac,” she croaked, lifting herself up. “It hurts.”

  “I know,” he said. Behind them, Harper sent another wave of stone animals Richard’s way, but he knew she couldn’t hold him off forever. None of them were strong enough to do that on their own. “We’re going to get you help, okay?”

  Violet let out a choking sound. More blood dribbled from her lips, and Isaac realized she was trying to laugh.

  “I know what death looks like,” she said. “I’m not the only Saunders. You can still finish this—”

  She shuddered and began to topple backward. He snaked an arm around her back on instinct, drew her close to him. There was so much blood; it smelled like copper and iron mixed with the decay of the world around them. Isaac’s stomach churned as her eyes fluttered frantically, pupils glazed over.

  “Rosie?” she whispered, and he knew in that moment that she was somewhere else. Beside her, Orpheus was curled up on the ground, his body growing limp.

  Isaac stared at them both, struggling to comprehend what was happening. He cradled Violet in his arms, unable to breathe, unable to speak. He couldn’t save her, the same way he hadn’t been able to save his mom, his brothers. She would die here, and he was absolutely powerless to stop it.

  He heard footsteps approaching and glanced up, expecting Richard’s face. At least his suffering would be short-lived.

  But it was not Richard waiting for him—it was Gabriel.

  Gabriel was there, just as he had been there on the night of Isaac’s ritual. But this time his brother did not hold a knife to his throat. Instead, he dropped to his knees and placed a hand on Isaac’s shoulder.

  “You came back,” Isaac murmured.

  “Yeah, well,” Gabriel said. “I couldn’t leave you to fight alone.”

  “Don’t fight,” Isaac choked out. “Help her.”

  Gabriel’s gaze turned to Violet. Blood was still spreading from the wounds in her stomach. Her head turned slightly, a gasp of pain escaping as blood trickled down her chin.

  “She’s badly hurt,” he said. “I’m not sure if I can—”

  “Please. I can’t lose her too.”

  The words came from somewhere raw and bloody, the part of Isaac that had spent the last few years screaming itself hoarse. It seemed to awaken something in Gabriel: a focus, a purpose.

  “I will do everything in my power to keep her alive.” He lifted her gently out of Isaac’s arms. “But you’ll need to distract that founder bastard.”

  Isaac nodded and rose to his feet, dazed. It had been a few minutes at most, but the world felt different. Violet’s blood stained his forearms, his shirt, but there was nothing he could do for her now except keep Richard at bay and hope Gabriel would give her a fighting chance.

  He could tell immediately that Harper was reaching the end of her rope. The remnants of stone animals were scattered everywhere, some still lurching forward pathetically, others deathly still. The girl herself was pale and panting, gasping for breath.

  “Hey!” he called out. Harper turned, relief blooming on her face as Richard’s focus shifted onto him.

  “Here for seconds?” Richard asked.

  Isaac didn’t bother answering. He didn’t give a shit about clever quips right now. All he cared about was that Richard had just tried to take away another person who mattered to him, and that meant he deserved no mercy whatsoever.

  He knelt down, rage blooming inside him, and pressed his palms to the dirt.

  A massive bubble of light rippled through the clearing, creating a shock wave that sent everyone but Isaac off-balance. Harper jolted; behind him, Gabriel yelled in protest, but Isaac didn’t care. All around them, tree roots were disintegrating in a massive wave. He shuddered with effort as he pushed his power forward, but before it could touch Richard, it slammed into something invisible. Like a brick wall. He’d felt this before, with the Church of the
Four Deities.

  “You can’t hurt me,” Richard said softly.

  Isaac snarled and lunged forward again, his hands burning with power, but Richard stretched out two palms and blocked him again. Behind him, Harper gasped in pain as roots twined around her legs, rooting her in place.

  “You’ve lost,” Richard said, advancing. “Just admit it.”

  And just as he was starting to panic, his eyes locked on the smug smile on Richard Sullivan’s face, a familiar voice rang out from behind him.

  “This isn’t over,” May Hawthorne said coldly. Behind her stood Juniper, Augusta, and Harper’s siblings. All of them looked ready for war.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  May had never felt so simultaneously powerful and overwhelmed. She stared at her father from across the town square, the Gray swirling all around her, and tried to remember how to breathe. She’d asked for this responsibility, this fight. She needed to see it through.

  For once, her mother had listened to her. So had Juniper Saunders. They’d banded together, found Mitzi and Seth Carlisle at their family home and gone looking for the group at the town hall, since everyone’s phones were still malfunctioning, but had found a sick Justin instead. He’d filled them in and told them where to find everyone else.

  Now May watched as the people she’d brought together rushed into action, just as she had asked them to. Mitzi and Seth ran to help their sister, while Juniper hurried over to Violet, who seemed to be injured. As for May, she stood beside her mother, both of them gazing grimly at Richard.

  “Well, then,” her father said. “This is a surprise.”

  He didn’t sound particularly intimidated. May tried not to let that make her even more afraid of him. She looked around, taking note of everything she could about their surroundings. They were standing in the middle of what should have been the town square. A copse of bloated gray trees had grown around the seal, completely blocking off their access.

  “You go,” Augusta said softly to her. “Get the others.”

  “Are you sure you can distract him?”

  Augusta’s smile was vicious. “I will relish it.”