Cards of Death Box Set

by Tamara Geraeds

  My gaze flicks over the card on the floor. For a moment a face is visible. Then I blink and all I see is frost flowers.

  “Save him…” The voice whispers in my ear.

  I regain control over my body, get up and stumble into the hallway. I clasp my hand on my neck, trying to drive away the feeling of breath on my skin. I rub and rub, but the sensation of a mysterious touch doesn’t go away.

  “Hey!” Quinn walks out of the living room. “They are giving me a headache. Where is your poker set?”

  I give him half a smile, the best I can do right now. “I’ll get it. Can you put some more chicken wings in the oven? They’re in the fridge.”

  “Sure. Do you want more beer, too? I have some in my car.”

  I give him a thumbs up, run upstairs, throw the cards in a drawer and grab my poker set. In the bathroom I wash my neck. “Leave me alone,” I repeat. Then I turn around and go back to my friends.

  While Charlie is dealing, I gulp down two more beers. He raises his eyebrows at me. I never drink this fast, but it is easing my nerves. “Enjoying the last good day of summer,” I explain.

  He nods, but doesn’t look convinced.

  I relax a little again, playing Texas Hold’em, drinking and eating too much. But then my playing cards come into focus. Two kings. Their faces twist into something familiar.

  “Save him…”

  I push my hands against my ears.

  “Ssst! Be qui’t. Dantestryin’ tuh conc’trate,” Paul says, bursting into a girlish giggle right after.

  The voice gets louder, no matter how hard I try to shut it out. “Save him or everyone you love will die. You, your mother, your friends, everyone on earth will die.”

  I push harder, but it doesn’t help.

  “Save him!” it yells.

  “All right!” I get up so quickly that my chair tumbles to the ground.

  The whole table falls silent. Charlie, Simon and Quinn look up at me with questioning faces. Paul is still having a laughing fit, but no one pays any attention to it.

  I have to say something. Anything but the truth, or they will think I’ve gone crazy.

  I probably have.

  “All right,” I repeat, and I grin broadly. “This one is mine.” I push all my chips forward. “All in!”

  Mouths fall open and beer is spilled.

  Paul stops laughing. “No way! Ya can’t do da! We jus’ start’d!” he slurs.

  “Sure I can.” I sit down again and study my cards. Just two regular kings, no strange faces. I will save him, whoever he is, I think as loud as I can, just leave me alone.

  “Save him or all will be lost.”

  Yes, you said that already. I will try.

  “The world needs you.”

  Great.

  “Here it comes,” Quinn says, holding up the last card. He lays it on the table and Paul throws his cards down hard. “Fold.”

  Simon shakes his head. “Why are you folding, you twerp? You’ve already gone all-in.”

  They argue for a bit, but I’m not really listening. I’m still waiting for the voice to reply, or a strange wind behind me to lift my hair.

  Meanwhile, Charlie is watching me with his blue eyes. He knows something is wrong. But I can’t tell him. Not until I find out what is going on. And maybe not even then. There are some things you cannot share with your friends, no matter how close you are to them. Besides, in a few days, he will be miles from here, and I will still be stuck in Blackford, talking to ghosts and other invisible beings. I have to do this on my own.

  “So? Let’s see them, Dante.”

  I look up, confused. See what?

  “Your cards, stupid.” Quinn yanks them out of my hand.

  Paul slumps down into his chair. “I told you.”

  Simon gets up. “Well, I’m out. Can we watch a movie now?”

  Quinn, the only one of us who seems unaffected by the booze, nods with appreciation and pushes tons of chips my way. “Nice job, man. I thought you were bluffing. It’s only you and Charlie now.”

  Normally I would jump around in glee, but all the chips in the world wouldn’t be able to give me any joy now. Something is wrong. Terribly wrong. And it has something to do with the demon cards and the ghosts.

  Charlie collects his chips. He doesn’t look happy, either. “You want to call it a draw?”

  I nod, surprised by his offer, since I know how much he likes winning.

  “Wha ’bout Scream? Anybohy up fo’ tha’?” Paul shouts, going through my DVDs.

  Simon burps. “Can’t we watch something a little more… modern?”

  “Why? We love classics.”

  Charlie puts a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay? You look… sick or something.”

  I don’t want to lie to my best friend, but I have to. “Yeah, my head hurts like hell, man. Too much beer maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Do you want us to go?” His eyes are pleading for the truth, but I can’t give it to him. Even if he would believe me, I am suddenly positive that I am in a very dangerous situation. I cannot put my friends in danger.

  “No, please stay. I’ll just take some aspirin.” I get up. “You guys start the movie, I’m going to splash some cold water in my face.”

  Without waiting for a reply, I walk into the hallway and up the stairs.

  I grab the demonic cards and stare at them. “So… save him… does that mean I am not the one who is going to get stabbed? I have to save someone else?”

  No answer.

  The pictures on the frosty card are probably clues, leading to whomever I’m supposed to save.

  ‘The world needs you.’ That doesn’t sound very promising. And ‘all will be lost’ is not much better.

  “I’ll go back to the house tomorrow. Find out what the Shield thinks about all this.”

  It’s like a weight is lifted from my shoulders. I go back downstairs and the rest of the evening is nice and quiet, except for some laughing fits and the guys trying to scare each other. I try to enjoy it as much as I can, but it’s not easy. For a moment, I thought being a Mage could be fun. Now I’m not so sure.

  CHAPTER 8

  When I wake up it is already eleven o’clock. I must have passed out as soon as I reached my bed since I am still fully dressed. I even have my shoes still on.

  As soon as I realize there’s no sound coming from the kitchen or living room, my heart starts to pound loudly. Did Mom get home last night? And if she did, is she all right? Was yesterday just a lucky day?

  I jump upright, steady myself against my desk, and bolt out of my room.

  Mom’s door creaks when I open it slowly. Soft breathing reaches my ears and I swallow my fear. She seems alright.

  Before I can close the door again, Mom’s voice makes me jump. “Hey, is it morning already?”

  “It’s almost noon.” I walk up to the bed and she smiles lazily at me. Her hair looks like a neglected bird’s nest and she has bags under her eyes.

  “Did you have a nice evening?”

  I nod. “How about you?”

  She yawns. “Oh, it was great. We danced, and flirted, and had a few drinks.”

  “Eww Mom. And I’m not talking about your bad breath.”

  She grins while I wave the foul smell away.

  I give her a scrutinizing look. “So you had just a few drinks, huh?”

  “Okay, maybe more than a few.” She brings her hand to her head with a mournful look.

  Laughing out loud I walk back to the door. “You can sleep it off. I’m going out in a minute.”

  Her head falls back onto the pillow. “Okay, honey. See you later.”

  She’s snoring before I even close the door.

  I go downstairs and take the cards from my pocket. I know the voice was real, but now that I am sober, there is suddenly no doubt in my mind that I have been tricked. It must have been one of the ghosts trying to frighten me. They probably want to keep
Darkwood Manor to themselves. Well, bad luck for them. I am moving into that house, whether they like it or not. And if I am truly their master, they will have to do what I tell them. And I already know what that will be.

  Hopefully they’re not watching, because I have to take a deep breath before entering the house. My house. I have to remember that. Not theirs. Mine.

  I try to sound confident when I yell: “Okay guys, haha, that was very funny last night. But I forbid you to do that again. I want you to leave.”

  Silence greets me. Nothing moves.

  I walk through the arched door frame to the kitchen. “Can you hear me?”

  No answer.

  My mind is just about to tell me I dreamed all of it, when one of the drawers slides open. My blood chills when a knife floats out of it, pointing in my direction. It slowly moves closer.

  My whole body tenses and I curse myself. Why did I come back here? I knew I couldn’t trust these ghosts. I knew I was the one going to get stabbed.

  I back up slowly and bump against the wall. My eyes never leave the knife. It takes its time, pausing now and then. We are like cat and mouse and I am on the wrong side of the game.

  Two steps into the hallway, I almost trip over a loose floorboard.

  A low chuckle rips through the silence.

  “Get away from me!” I yell, losing every shred of self-confidence I emanated.

  Instead of stopping, the knife shoots forward and I screech like a wounded animal. I duck and move farther backward. My heartbeat is deafening, my palms sweaty.

  “Stop teasing, Jeep,” Vicky’s voice says from the top of the stairs.

  The tattooed ghost appears right in front of me, the knife in his hand. “Why?” he asks, his gaze fixed on me. “It’s so much fun.”

  Anger flushes out the last puff of fear inside me. My veins pump with rage and I can feel my face twisting. “I don’t like your jokes or your games, Jeep. I want you out of my house.” I look up and find the others standing there, with surprised looks on their faces. As if they are all so innocent. “All of you!” I shout. “Now!”

  I expect objections or even laughing, but in a flash they’re all gone.

  Panting heavily, I move my head in all directions. My Shield is gone. They did what I wanted. The house is all mine now. No psychotic ghosts to surprise me anymore. So why do I feel so empty?

  I decide to drive to the only place where I can really think: the mine. My pace is slow. I take in every street I pass. Main Street, with the colored shops that need painting, and the sheriff waving at me. It’s the only road in town that doesn’t have a large grass strip in the middle. I still haven’t figured out why Blackford has so many of these strips. If you want to make the town more attractive, why not make the roads more narrow and build a nice park?

  I pass the entrance to the East Side, where young families are slowly taking over the houses of the elderly who have reached the ends of their lives. I realize I can remove myself from the waiting list, but that thought gives me no joy. Selling Darkwood Manor might still be an option, but I can’t as long as there might be answers there about Dad. The Shield keeps popping into my head. My gut tells me I made a mistake, but I’m not sure whether that means the ghosts are good or evil. Maybe I need their help, or maybe they are evil and I pissed them off by sending them away. Either way, I know my life will never be the same.

  But do I even want that? I always prayed something would change. Now everything has changed. Is that a bad thing?

  I stop at the basketball court where Charlie, Quinn, Paul, Simon and I used to play. We were the worst team ever, but we had a lot of fun. I know they will move to the city as soon as we graduate and I’m already dreading it. Maybe my ghosts will make an excellent new set of friends.

  I snort. What am I thinking? It’s not like friends can be replaced like a set of tableware.

  “I could sell the house, move to the city and take Mom with me,” I mumble to myself. But I already know Mom’s answer to that. She belongs here.

  I shift and drive away. My pace is still slow, so I can enjoy the view I normally take for granted. I love the mountains full of trees all around us. I just stopped noticing them a little when Dad left. Or maybe I just wanted to forget them. Lots of memories there. Camping with Dad, playing hide and seek with my friends while Mom read books to Dad, building a tree house with Dad, searching for pine cones with Dad. An image of Dad setting that man on fire flashes before my eyes. I shake my head to get rid of it. Tiny drops slowly fill my windshield and I concentrate on the road again.

  A few minutes later the old preparation plant comes into view. Another part of the roof has collapsed, making the dirty white structure look like three giant open mouths on top of each other, trying to swallow something on the mountain.

  I park behind the rusted silver train. Walking up, I squeeze myself through one of the plant’s broken windows. I always go through the building in case someone passes by. The whole area is off limits, but I never see anyone here. There are stories about ghosts haunting this place, but I never believed them. Now, I’m not so sure anymore. There could be ghosts anywhere. Nevertheless, I still feel at ease here. The mine has always felt like a home to me. It’s so quiet, peaceful even. The temperature inside is always the same. The further you walk in, the hotter it gets. That’s why I usually stay pretty close to the exit. But in winter it’s actually really nice deeper into the mine. If you ignore the stench of excrements from the rats that live there. Anyway, I feel safe here, with all that solid rock around me. If I could, I would just build a house right on this spot, with a door leading straight into the mine.

  I climb the stairs until I can exit the highest part of the preparation plant, and walk into the mine.

  The faint smell of smoke and tin hits me and I eagerly breathe it in. The last sliver of uneasiness disappears with the familiar sound of drops hitting rock. The groundwater has recently been pumped out - for whatever reason they still do that – so there’s not much water in the tunnels. I pick up one of the torches I hid around the first bend and light it with the lighter I keep next to it. Leisurely steps take me deeper into the tunnels. I can find my way through here blindfolded. I take a right and two lefts, and the next tunnel will take me to an abandoned cart, where I can sit down for a while, alone with my thoughts.

  After a few minutes, I retrieve the demonic cards from my pocket. I was smart enough to take some salt with me, which I sprinkle on the icy card. The hints show themselves again. What can they mean? The victim probably has glasses and his name starts with a T. Does he live in a skyscraper? And what about the two faces? Does it mean he is dishonest? That could explain why someone wants to stab him. Who am I to decide he needs to be saved? Why should I care anyway?

  “His soul is important.”

  I jump as the voice whispers in my ear. Then I curse quietly. Is there no place left where I can just be alone and think for a while? Apparently not, because the voice has moved further into the tunnel and is calling me. “Follow me, Dante. Follow me if you want to know.”

  If I want to know what? This guy, or being or whatever, is driving me crazy.

  “Just tell me who to save, why and where. Stop being so vague.”

  As expected, it doesn’t answer, so I grunt loudly and put away the cards.

  When I hesitate the voice calls out again. “This way.”

  It could be leading me straight into a trap, but I follow it anyway. It feels safe somehow. Maybe because we are in my favorite place. I won’t let anyone take this away from me. Not even a ghost.

  Following the voice, I walk farther and farther away from the entrance. I don’t come this far often, but I remember the cage around the next bend. It is one of those birdcages, where they used to keep the canary as an alarm for toxic gasses. As I walk past it, a shiver runs up my spine when the voice comes from behind me. “Pull it.” The humid draft I felt before hits my neck and I spin around. The birdcage is swinging gen
tly, without a sound. I take a couple of steps back and raise my arm towards the empty, rectangular cage. Slowly I grab the bars and pull. A deep rumbling rises from below and I gasp as another tunnel appears. “No way…”

  I expect to get overrun by rats or other vermin, but the only thing that greets me is an icy rush of air. Or breath, who knows.

  Slowly I walk past the cage and into the hidden tunnel. The first thing I notice is the walls. Not only are they darker and colder, but they are covered in symbols I recognize immediately. Large circles with strange writing along the lines, and pentagrams in the middle. Circles divided in four, with smaller symbols inside. A sun with a pentagram in the middle. And lots of little scribbles and lines that make no sense. They remind me of the symbols on the cards, except these are red and they don’t move.

  “Come closer,” the voice whispers.

  Closer to what? I wonder. And do I even want that?

  This tunnel is giving me the creeps, so I walk through it as fast as I can without breaking into a run. I come to a sudden halt when a dead end comes into view. There is a black hole in the rock. A pulsing black hole, from which a soft scraping noise emanates. I take a step back.

  The voice is right next to me. “It is closed now, but it won’t be for long.”

  “What the hell is it?”

  “The protection is not strong enough. You have to gather your Shield and fight.”

  “Fight what?”

  “Hurry.”

  The whisper comes from further away. The voice is retreating. I feel a strong urge to do the same, but my gaze is pulled back to the blackness. It seems endless and I can almost feel something reach out from it to pull me in. The scraping has stopped, leaving behind a sinister silence. For the first time I wish the voice had stayed with me. Who knows what is watching me. Preparing to knock me on the ground and rip out my throat.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. Where are all those nasty thoughts coming from? There is nobody here. There is no threat. I clench my fists. “Get a grip, Dante.”

  I turn around, ignoring the tingling feeling on my back. Studying the symbols on the walls, my eyes are drawn towards a spot that stands out. It is hidden between the strange circles and lines. The only square I can find and with a slightly different color than the other drawings. It is not obvious at all, but somehow it sticks out to me. As if someone is pointing a flashlight at it.