Wager's Price

by G. P. Ching

  Once Finn was alone in the room, Hope behind the bathroom door with the shower running, he walked to the window and stared out toward the woods beyond. The white falcon was perched in a tree, staring back at him with black, beady eyes. Weird.

  “My roommate talks to birds.” He rubbed his forehead. A headache had taken root behind his right eye. Exhausted and irritated, he climbed into bed.

  His hand slipped under his pillow and caught on the book Theodor had lent him. He’d almost forgotten about it. He leaned over to turn on the lamp, the gas hissing before the dull light filled the bulb in that strange way that was unique to Revelations. Walking on Water: Making the Impossible Possible by Victoria Duvall. The cover image was of a young woman with raven-black hair and a dazzling smile. This was why the poster Hope had shown him in the library had looked familiar. The woman from the poster was Victoria Duvall. He opened the cover and flipped to the copyright page. Printed in 2005. Cover photo of Victoria Duvall, 1999. He shook his head. The poster from today was labeled 1942. It had to be a fake. But how old was she? He flipped to the introduction.

  For as long as I can remember, I’ve believed that physical limitations are a construct of our mental limitations. Over the course of my fifty years as a dancer, performance artist, and choreographer, I’ve studied with gurus and mystics from around the world. They believe as I do. Limitless power exists within each of us. We simply must strive for it.

  You say, “But Victoria, the human body can only jump so high; we can only move so fast.” Do not bore me with your narrow-minded beliefs. In 1912, the Men’s Olympic High Jump gold medalist jumped 1.93 meters, or a little over six feet. Surely, at that time, this was considered the highest a human being could ever jump unaided. Until 1993, when Javier Sotomayor hurled himself over a 2.45-meter bar. Now there was a new limit, a new highest.

  Why stop there? Certainly, if man can gain a meter, he can gain ten. Why do we believe in limits? Is it because of gravity? Because of our physical place in the universe? I reject this notion. Our reality is an illusion to be overcome. I believe human evolution didn’t end when we learned to walk upright.

  We were meant to fly.

  Finn jolted awake from a deep sleep. The hunting party was at it again, the dogs yapping outside his window. Walking on Water was open on his chest, but Hope must have extinguished the lamp because the room was dark. She was asleep, curled on her side with her back to him. Quietly, he marked his page and returned the book to the underside of his pillow. He slipped from under the covers. The barking grew louder, the hunting party near enough that Finn could make out the huffing breath of horses.

  He couldn’t see the dogs from his window, but the white falcon was still there. The bird’s reflective eyes formed two perfect circles of light at the edge of the moon-washed forest. An evening breeze stirred up leaves and pine needles on the ground below, the swaying trees causing shadows to dance toward the school before receding into the dark.

  One shadow did not recede, a silhouette that broke from the protection of the woods. A dark figure, hunched like an ape but with a human gait, hobbled closer, into the moonlight. Dirt, blood, and tufts of hair clung to the thing’s torn clothing.

  “Who?” Finn whispered.

  The visitor glanced over his shoulder, the moonlight catching on the features of his profile for the first time. Matted hair, crippled limbs. One side of his face was shredded, the eye swollen shut, ear bloody, lip torn. Though gruesomely distorted, the man looked familiar.

  Finn placed his hands against the glass. It wasn’t a man but a boy wearing a shredded black Revelations uniform with purple piping. Paul. The boy’s one working eye flicked to Finn, and those bloody lips formed a single unfortunate word—help.

  Paralyzed with fear and confusion, Finn looked around the room and toward his locked door. What should he do? What could he do?

  It was too late. One of the large black dogs appeared at the corner of the gardens. Paul ran for the woods. A moment later, a shrill scream cut through the glass. Finn screamed too, until a hand clasped over his mouth and pulled him from the window.

  “Shhh.”

  A split second later, he was in his bed, under the covers, with Hope shaking him by the shoulders. He blinked up at her. “Paul!”

  “Finn, you were dreaming, screaming in your sleep.”

  He bound out of bed and rushed to the window. It was still dark. There was nothing at the edge of the wood aside from dead leaves that swirled in the wind. “He’s gone.”

  “Who’s gone?”

  “Paul.”

  “Paul was injured. He wouldn’t be outside.”

  “I saw him. He was at the base of the woods, under the bird you were talking to.”

  Hope chewed her lip. “You were dreaming. Probably traumatized from seeing Paul hurt.”

  “There were dogs. It was another hunt. He was hurt badly, all curled in on himself and mutilated.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t hear any barking. I would have woken up. I’m a very light sleeper. You had a nightmare, Finn. That’s all.”

  Finn frowned and lay back down. “It seemed real.” He climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling.

  The springs of Hope’s bed creaked as she returned to the safety of her covers. “Nightmares often do.”

  18

  Trial Period

  There was no mention of Paul the next day. Finn endured his schedule of falls and burns, including a traumatic hour alone in a cage of pacing leopards. After a replay of yesterday’s resilience class, Finn couldn’t take it anymore. He was bloody and sore, sick to his stomach, and exhausted. Mentally, he was done. Finished.

  Amuke had said Ms. D’s office was on the second floor, east wing—the opposite wing as their dormitories. He took a right at the top of the stairs instead of a left. Near the end of the hall, an ornate-paneled doorway was labeled with a brass placard: Headmistress Victoria Duvall. He knocked three times.

  “Come in.”

  Finn had pictured Ms. D behind a big mahogany desk, maybe seated in a leather chair surrounded by file cabinets and other accouterments of school administration. Instead, he found a rummage sale. The old woman, dressed in a purple tracksuit, jumped on a small trampoline near the window. A massive red rubber ball rested against the wall beside her. Across the room, a tree, designed of painted clay and twisted wire, was home to a rope swing that swayed from its branches. The walls were covered in vintage posters advertising everything from opera to freak show acts. Stacks and stacks of books and papers were piled in no specific order in every corner.

  This was not an office. This was a playroom.

  Ms. D did not stop jumping when Finn entered. “What can I do for you, boy?”

  “I, uh, don’t mean to bother you, but I was with Paul Stewart during the… infraction and I was wondering if you could tell me if he’s all right?”

  She stopped jumping. “You saw what happened to Paul?”

  He nodded. “I was there. Applegate said she would handle it, but I just… is he okay?”

  Her wrinkled lips pressed together. She stepped off the trampoline. “Paul Stewart. Hmm. Not exactly surprised about that one.” She waved her hand dismissively. “He’s fine. He’ll be back in a few weeks.”

  “Is he in a hospital or something?” Finn asked. “Can he have visitors?”

  She snorted. “There are no hospitals on this island. Even if there were, you are not allowed to leave the school for any reason.”

  “No hospital? What do you do when someone gets hurt?”

  “Why, we handle it ourselves. Like now, Applegate and Ravenguard are healing Paul. You have nothing to worry about.” She held up one bony finger.

  Finn scratched the back of his neck, the memory of Paul’s screaming and bloody face coming back to him in a wave that made his eyes prickle with unshed tears. “I’d like to call my father.”

  “No contact is allowed—”

  “Ravenguard said I had a week trial period.”


  The words dropped like a lead weight between them. Ms. D rubbed her chin. “Trial period, you say?”

  Finn nodded. “He said I had a week to change my mind. It was in my contract.”

  Ms. D strolled to a red-and-black cabinet that lined the wall of her office. She opened one of the doors. The shelves were packed with scrolls of parchment. After checking a few, she said, “Ah, here it is.” As she unraveled Finn’s between her hands, there was a moment of silence while she perused the document.

  “You are correct. It seems Ravenguard did offer you a trial period. And you are sure you want to invoke that clause in our agreement?”

  He nodded.

  “You would do that? Abandon your friends to run away at the first sign of trouble?”

  “First sign? Every class is torture. I have more injuries than I can count. No hospital? It isn’t safe here. When I leave, I’m sure my friends will leave too.” Finn’s hands trembled, his stomach turning with the intensity of the moment. For someone who prided himself on flying under the radar, the direct approach was terrifying, but he had no choice. He had to get out of this place.

  She approached him, lips drawing back from her teeth, more threat than smile. “Your friends don’t have a choice.”

  “What?”

  “The one-week-trial clause is not in our standard contract. Ravenguard extended it to you alone. Michael and Jayden have no such clause. You may leave, but I’m afraid your friends must stay.”

  All the air rushed from Finn’s lungs as if he’d been gut punched.

  “Of course, if your friends are having similar problems adjusting, a few days of intensive therapy with Ravenguard and Applegate should help. I wouldn’t concern yourself.” She rolled up the scroll and tucked it back into the cabinet. “So then, shall we call your father?”

  Paralyzed, Finn stared at the headmistress and tried to hold back the swell of emotion that burned in his throat and behind his eyes. Could he do it? Abandon his friends without any way of knowing their ultimate fate?

  Ms. D tapped her chin. “If I remember correctly, you were their leader.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Deviant Joe. It was your creation that brought you and your friends here. You were the mastermind. It was only because of you that we extended the invitation to Michael as I recall.”

  Finn’s shoulders slumped, the weight of truth settling on him. He’d gotten Mike and Jayden into this. He was responsible for seeing it through.

  “The phone is against the wall right over there.” She pointed behind the tree. “It’s the old-fashioned kind. No cellular service on the island.” She chuckled wickedly.

  He shook his head.

  “No? Have you decided to give it another go?”

  His voice cracked when he answered. “Y-yes.”

  The corners of her mouth curled upward. “Excellent choice. Now, you’d better move along. You wouldn’t want to miss dinner. You’ll need your strength.” She pointed at his face before backing toward the trampoline.

  Finn wiped a hand across his cheek. His fingers came away wet. He hadn’t even noticed he’d been crying.

  Ms. D began jumping again, and this time she rotated to face the window. Finn staggered into the hall, watching the door to Duvall’s office slowly close, cutting him off from his last chance to give up.

  19

  Magic

  By the end of the week, Finn and the others sported so many bruises and bandages, the halls of Revelations might have doubled as a hospital. Even Jayden struggled to muster the energy to do more than eat and lie in bed when they weren’t in class. Gone were the conversations of hanging out in his room, replaced by heads falling asleep on the dining table and groans anytime anyone had to move. Not that there was much to do outside of class. They weren’t allowed to leave the building.

  It was during one such exaggerated state of exhaustion that Finn felt the card Theodor gave him grow warm in his pocket. Sure enough, the picture of the joker had changed and was no longer juggling the red balls. Finally, magic lessons!

  “Where are you going?” Mike asked over his dinner, eyes dull with fatigue.

  “Had enough. Early day tomorrow.”

  Mike nodded.

  Finn climbed the stairs and searched out the alcove where he’d met with Theodor the week before. The magician was already there among the carvings of top hats and wands, his body unnaturally still, like an empty shell. Upon seeing Finn, the older man’s mustache flattened over a subtle smile.

  “Right on time. Excellent.”

  “I almost didn’t make it up the stairs,” Finn said, resting his hands on his aching thighs. “This place is killing me.”

  “It gets better,” Theodor said. “Try to rest more and eat everything they feed you. Don’t fight it.”

  Finn straightened at the trite advice and leaned against the alcove bookshelf. “So, magic lessons… Where should we start?”

  “Not here. Too exposed.” Theodor withdrew a card from his pocket. He paused, eyes darting to Finn. “You may want to hang on to something.”

  Finn gripped the bookshelf behind him.

  The magician tossed the card at their feet and said, “Portate.”

  The entire alcove jerked into a dizzying rotation. The window disappeared, as did the arched entrance. Although Theodor remained remarkably still, everything else blurred, breaking down into a mishmash of book spines and random fonts. Finn swallowed repeatedly, closed his eyes, and focused on the steady grip he had on the shelf behind him. When the spinning sensation stopped, he carefully opened his eyes.

  They’d been transported to a classroom. Theodor stood in front of a blackboard, the old-fashioned kind with white chalk and dark erasers. A heavy teacher’s desk sat to his right and a single student’s desk waited in the center of the room.

  “Where are we?” Finn asked.

  “My office on the second floor. It’s enchanted. No one can hear us.” He stepped to the window beside the blackboard and knocked on the glass. “No one can see you either.”

  The room dipped and stretched, and Finn collapsed into the seat of the student desk, his weight nudging it across the floor several inches.

  “You’ll be fine in a minute.” Theodor crossed the room to a small kitchenette where he poured a glass of water. He handed it to Finn. “Traveling by portal is dehydrating. This will help.”

  Finn chugged half the glass. “How did you do that?”

  Theodor drew a card from his pocket and held it up, pinched between two fingers. “King of spades. Although the card itself is unimportant. What matters is the spell within it.”

  “It was a trick?” Finn looked around the small room for some indication that it was once an alcove. “Is it mechanical?”

  “No tricks, Finn. This is magic. Some would call it sorcery, but I’ve always preferred the M-word. Over the centuries, magicians have used wands or amulets to execute their spells, but I’ve found a deck of cards… suits me best.” He turned the card back and forth between them.

  “Are you saying you transported us from one part of the school to another with an ordinary playing card?” Finn laughed.

  Theodor shook his head. “Of course not. This is no ordinary king of spades, nor will any card in your deck be ordinary.” He handed the card to Finn. “Take a closer look. What do you see?”

  At first, Finn could only make out the letter K and the image of the spade one would expect on such a card. But the longer he stared at it, the more he sensed there was something more, just below the glossy surface. He closed and opened his eyes, trying to focus. “It looks like a crude drawing of a compass with arrows in eight directions. It’s almost like the hieroglyphs we studied in school. Is it Egyptian?”

  “Not Egyptian. Much older. It’s called a rune.”

  “It’s green.”

  “Very good, Finn. Most people can’t see the color with an untrained eye.”

  “And it’s heavy.”

  “As a portal should be. It has t
o be strong enough to carry you where you need to go after all.”

  “A portal?” Finn smoothed his hand across the surface. The symbol burned hot against his palm. “I can use this to go anywhere?”

  Theodor removed the card from Finn’s grip. “Not yet. Portation is an advanced lesson requiring perfect focus. Today, we learn the basics.” He pulled open his desk drawer and removed a plastic-wrapped deck of playing cards. He handed it to Finn. “These will be yours. You will enchant each card with a spell, and I will teach you how to use it. We will practice here when I call you.”

  “What about our days off?”

  The magician snorted. “There are no days off at Revelations, Finn. You’ll work every day of the year here.”

  Why wasn’t he surprised? Everything about Revelations was designed to be a constant punishment.

  “It will get easier,” Theodor said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Should we do this another time?”

  With a shake of his head, Finn slid a finger under the plastic and unwrapped the deck of cards Theodor had given him. He dumped them into his palm. The slippery card stock fanned between his fingers. They were the type you could buy in any convenience store, with backs covered in black diamonds that represented the brand. An overwhelming sense that he was being toyed with led him to restack the cards and square them on his desk. This was ridiculous. It had to be a joke.

  “Don’t do that,” Theodor said, his hands landing on either side of the stack.

  “I shouldn’t stack the cards?”

  “I’m not talking about the cards. I’m talking about your head. If you don’t believe in the magic, Finn, it doesn’t matter what you do with the cards.”

  “But it can’t be real.” Finn was not ashamed to say it. “I read the first half of the book you gave me. I get it—unlimited human potential. It’s a nice thought, but human beings have limits.”