Wager's Price

by G. P. Ching

  The door opened and Finn shuffled in, looking exhausted. “Where have you been?” she snapped.

  “None of your business,” he murmured. He made to move around her.

  “I’m making it my business.” She stopped him with a hand to the chest and felt a small rectangle in the interior pocket of his jacket. Quickly, she slipped her hand inside and retrieved a pack of playing cards.

  “Hey! Give those back!” Finn grabbed for the cards, but Hope dodged out of his reach. She was faster, and he knew it. He plopped onto his bed with a groan. “Come on, Hope. Don’t do this to me. I need those.”

  “Why? What are they?” She flipped one over, then another. “They look like ordinary playing cards, but the energy coming off them is incredible.”

  “Is it interfering with your reiki? Or maybe your enchanter powers?” Finn’s lips pulled into a tight line.

  “What’s your point?”

  “You’re so full of shit, Hope. You didn’t learn that aria overnight.” He flopped flat on the bed. “Look, you have your secrets and I have mine. Let’s leave it at that.”

  She turned the cards between her fingers and held one up to the fading light of the window. Still nothing. No clue to its secrets. Just ordinary playing cards. Playing cards. Where did Finn get playing cards at Revelations? Her eyes widened. “You’ve been training with the magician!”

  Finn did not answer. He folded his hands across his stomach. “I’d like my cards back now.”

  “He’s teaching you magic? But why hasn’t he told Ms. D? And aren’t you exhausted training with aerial and as an apprentice magician?”

  “Hope, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I told you, I can’t talk about this.” He rubbed the inside of his arm until it turned red.

  “You can’t talk about it, can you?” she asked.

  Finn groaned and curled on his side.

  Hope took pity on him and let the subject die. For now. A moment later, she said, “I think I really pissed Juliette off today.”

  “You did. There’s something I have to tell you.” Finn rolled over to face her. “You were right about the posters we saw upstairs. The faculty here does not age. This place, this island, it’s like magic. And normally, Revelations has a hierarchy, students become instructors, and instructors become enchanters or magicians—”

  “And an enchanter or magician becomes the performance architect,” Hope finished. She noticed Finn was careful never to mention Theodor as he relayed what he’d learned. The magician must have bound Finn to secrecy. The way he avoided the subject was anything but normal. “Sounds like I ruffled some peacock feathers.” She sighed.

  “Yeah, well, I’d watch my back if I were you.”

  “Thanks for warning me. I can see it was risky for you to help me.”

  Finn didn’t say another word. She crossed to his side of the room and handed him his cards. He tucked them away again.

  “Don’t you see? This is why we should investigate who this friend is who left you the note.”

  Finn groaned. “No means no.”

  Hope placed her hands on her hips. “How about a peace offering? I will tell you part of my secret if you want to know.”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Really? Sure.”

  “The reiki I did on you the first day, it worked, right?”

  “Yeah. It was amazing. I haven’t taken a single ADHD pill since I’ve been here, and I’m fine.”

  “My abilities don’t end with reiki. I’m what you might call gifted.”

  Finn frowned and pushed himself up on his elbows. “Gifted how?”

  “Before I ever came to this island, I was faster and stronger than most people.” She tangled her fingers together. “I’ve been able to heal myself and do what I’ve done because I had those abilities from the start.”

  “You did?”

  “I was sent here for a reason, Finn. And I’m beginning to think you were too.”

  He flopped onto his pillow and closed his eyes. “No offense, Hope, but I don’t care why we’re here. I just want to do whatever’s necessary to not be here a day longer than I have to be.”

  30

  Black Suits

  Take out your deck,” Theodor commanded. The magician seemed abnormally anxious to get started.

  Finn retrieved his cards from the pocket inside his jacket. After the night before, he’d expected Theodor to call him back for another magic lesson, but the intense determination on his mentor’s face was new to him. Why was this lesson different from any other?

  “Select a card in a black suit.”

  Up until now, everything he’d learned and practiced had involved a red card. He’d wondered when Theodor would get around to teaching him about the black suits. He selected the two of spades and placed it on the desk, readying his black Sharpie between his fingers. “What spell is this?”

  “First, you need to understand how the black cards differ from the red.” Theodor paced in front of the chalkboard, toying with the cuffs of his shirt as if the topic made him uncomfortable. “So far, every spell you’ve learned can be undone. What is bound can be unbound. What is extinguished can be lit again. This type of magic is always in balance.”

  “And the black cards aren’t?”

  Theodor shook his head. “What I teach you today cannot be undone even if it is reversed. Consider, if you will, a nail pounded into a piece of wood. The nail itself can be removed, but the hole it creates remains. When I open a portal to bring you here, the portal closes behind us. To go back, I don’t reopen the same portal as if it were a door temporarily closed. You can’t undo a portal. Sending you back involves a new channel from point A to point B. Returning to the library does not make it as though you’d never left. Do you see? The spells I will teach you now come with a price. The portal from the library to here requires only a tiny price from an experienced magician such as myself, an amount of energy I can handle on the relatively rare occurrence of our meetings. But these spells are not in balance with nature, Finn, and their use, at least for you, must be both careful and rare.”

  “Understood,” Finn said. He wasn’t exactly sure he did understand, but he was anxious to get started.

  Theodor reached for the chalk and drew three parallel lines with a swoop at the bottom that wrapped around and intersected the set. “This is the symbol for eviscerate. It will shred your victim to the extent of your intention. This spell can kill, Mr. Wager, or at the least, maim.”

  Finn copied the spell exactly and watched it sink into the card. When he breathed life into the symbol, it did not open and close like bind/unbind or ignite/extinguish. It rose off the card stock and sank inside without ever changing. “So the opposite isn’t to heal?”

  Theodor sighed. “No, Finn. Healing is performed with a red card that can be reversed. For example, a wound can be bound to close it up or unbound to open it again, but creating a wound requires a dark intention that cannot be reversed with the same card. It can only be countered with a good intention of equal strength.”

  “It can’t be undone?”

  “No.” Pivoting, Theodor strode to the bookshelf, searching the stacks of objects haphazardly shoved between and on top of the books. “You need something to practice on,” he murmured, more to himself than to Finn. “You need to understand exactly the kind of power you hold in your hands. Ah!” He returned with a small glass vase painted with yellow daisies and plunked it down on Finn’s desk. “I’ve always hated this one.” The magician gestured for Finn to give the card a try.

  Without hesitation, Finn raised the two of spades. “Eviscerate.” A tiny chip tumbled from the lip of the vase and bounced across the desk. “You’re right. Unimaginable power,” Finn said dryly.

  “Intention, Finn. You must mean to destroy it. Think of something you hate, someone you’d like to tear apart.”

  Finn’s eyes narrowed. At one time he might have thought about the bullies at school. He’d certainly felt like he owed them payback for some time.
But Revelations had changed his perception of the incidents he used to mull over endlessly, making them appear distant and muted in his memory. The bullies here were far more threatening. He pictured the day Orelon kicked the stool out from under Wendy. Wendy, who was about the best thing to ever happen to this place. He raised his card again.

  “Eviscerate!” The vase shattered, tiny slivers of glass exploding in a way that made Finn turn away and cover his eyes.

  Theodor patted his shoulder. “Nice work. That’s the way.” He took out his own red card and circled it over the dust. “Construct,” he said. The vase rebuilt itself.

  “You fixed it,” Finn said.

  “Not exactly. If I reverse my spell, this vase will come apart in the exact same pieces it was in a second ago. In contrast, if you use eviscerate again, it will explode into different pieces, a new destruction, not a return to a state of brokenness. Do you understand the difference?”

  “Oh,” he said. “I think so.”

  “Do you want to try it on something living? I could conjure a rat for you.”

  Finn swallowed. “I don’t want to kill anything.”

  “You might have to someday. Make no mistake, Finn, I teach this spell to you as a weapon. You need to know how to defend yourself.”

  “I’d rather not kill anything unless I have to.”

  Theodor frowned. “Very well. Try again, and this time, see if you can control it. Make it come apart to the halfway mark and no more.”

  Finn tried. Sometimes only an inch of the vase would shatter. Other times the entire thing would turn to dust. It took him thirty-seven times to cut the vase in half. Again and again, Finn practiced the spell to Theodor’s specifications, until he could produce a hole in the center of the vase without breaking the rest of it.

  By then, the magic had taken its toll. “I feel weird.”

  “You’re tired. This kind of magic is extremely draining. You won’t be able to use it for long without physical consequences. Let’s take a break.” Theodor retrieved a glass of water for Finn from the pitcher.

  After drinking it greedily, Finn thought about Wendy, about the clown dipping its finger into her blood. He’d never asked Theodor about the clowns. Not only because the topic seemed to be taboo among the teachers but because his time with Theodor was short. There simply hadn’t been much opportunity. But after everything else he’d learned about the school, he needed to know.

  “Theodor, can I ask you something about Revelations?”

  “Of course, Finn.”

  “Can you tell me about the clowns?” Finn flipped a card between his fingers. “What exactly are they, and what are they doing under the school?”

  Theodor grimaced. “How do you know about the clowns?”

  “I was there, in their laboratory.”

  By the look on Theodor’s face, Finn might have told him he murdered kittens in his spare time.

  “Tell me everything about how you came to be in that place, Mr. Wager. And I warn you, I will know if you leave out a single detail.”

  Finn was more than happy to oblige. He told him everything, from Wendy’s blood, to Hope’s hair, to his nighttime visit to the secret room.

  “I need an explanation,” Finn said. He stared across the desk at Theodor, praying the man would indulge his curiosity. “Please, I have to know.”

  “We don’t talk about the clowns,” Theodor whispered. “It’s important you stay out of their way.”

  “But what are they doing under the school in that… hive? What are those things in the vats?”

  Theodor sighed. For a long time, he stared at Finn, stroking the left side of his mustache with his finger. His eyes narrowed and his lips pulled into a tight line.

  “I’ve already placed you at risk by teaching you magic.” He shook his head.

  Finn said, “I need to know. If you don’t tell me, I’ll keep looking until I figure it out.”

  “Don’t threaten me,” Theodor said through his teeth.

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Then you’re dumber than I thought. Here’s what I know. What you called an iceberg, the white object behind the glass, it’s not ice.”

  “W-what is it?”

  “A fallen star.”

  Finn gave a low chuckle. Theodor did not join in. “A star is a ball of gas,” Finn said. “What I saw was as solid as you and me.”

  “What you saw was a small piece of a very old star. Old stars are more than burning gas, for your information. The entire Earth is made up of elements born in a star.”

  “Okay. So it’s a star.”

  “The star was here before I came to this place and, as far as I know, the hive came with it. What you and I call clowns are amazing creatures who live in a symbiotic relationship with the star. They tend to the star, keep its energy contained and nurtured, and in return, the star gives them the radiation they need to survive and reproduce on this planet.”

  “Are you saying they’re aliens?”

  “To be honest, I don’t know what they are or where exactly they came from. They don’t speak and tend to keep to the shadows. But, as far as I know, the clowns are harmless, if you stay out of their way.”

  “What happens if you don’t stay out of their way?”

  “I’ve never seen it, but I’ve heard stories from Amuke that they’ve become agitated when provoked. It’s why we warn all new students to leave them alone.”

  “But why are they collecting samples of blood and hair from the students?”

  “That I don’t know. They aren’t human, Finn. I can’t say any of us fully understand exactly what they are, but they are amazingly adaptable, can work in high-radiation environments for extended periods, and don’t eat or sleep as far as we know. I’ve been here almost a century, and I’ve never witnessed any aggression on their part. We assume they get everything they need from the star, and by tending to the star, they provide this place with its unusual properties. They are what makes this island special.”

  “The star is why I can fly?”

  “You can fly because you trained yourself to fly. The star simply eliminated your body’s need to conform to gravity. If you were to train to fight, you would become a powerful fighter. Train in magic”—he held up a card between his fingers—“you will become a sorcerer. Different people have different predispositions. But everyone changes.”

  Finn drummed his fingers on the desk. “Why do you think Mike and Jenny didn’t change as fast as the rest of us?”

  Theodor straightened his bow tie. “We don’t know why some change faster than others. Over the years, we’ve had dozens of boys and girls your age pass through these walls. A certain number excel. Most get by long enough to go home. Others never change at all until Ravenguard and Applegate get a hold of them.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Theodor gave a curt nod. “If there is anyone you should be afraid of, it’s those two.”

  31

  The Show

  What’s going on?” Finn asked Wendy. She was waiting for him outside the gazebo beaming like she might come out of her skin.

  “Finn, there you are! Have you heard?”

  “Heard what?”

  Orelon emerged from the gazebo behind her. “Class will be held in the theater today. Ms. D has an announcement about the spring performance.”

  Wendy grabbed Finn’s hand. “The show, Finn! Finally.” Her feet lifted from the ground with her excitement, and she floated at the end of his arm like a balloon. After spending two weeks at an uncontrollable and unpredictable hover, she’d finally learned to fly last week. She pulled his hand to lower herself to his ear. “We’ll finally find out if we can go home.” Her lips pressed to the area right below his earlobe and his ears grew warm.

  “Stop messing around, you two, and come on,” Natalie said. She followed Orelon toward the school, her feet touching the ground every third step.

  “Is it just us?” Finn asked. Wendy dropped to his side as he followed t
oward the school. The aerial troupe was bigger than Orelon and Natalie, but Finn had never met the others. They kept to the shadows in the rafters. He didn’t even know their names.

  “The purpose of the spring performance is to showcase student accomplishments,” Orelon said. “Your parents want to see how much you’ve changed.” He held one side of the magnificent front doors for them, and Natalie led the way to the main theater.

  Aerial’s entrance distracted Jayden and Fuse, who were juggling fire on stage. Jayden laughed as he missed a catch and the flames tumbled down his abdomen only to be knocked back into position by his knee. The flames didn’t hurt him anymore. His skin was as fireproof as asbestos. In fact, he’d taken to impressing Jenny by holding his hand over a candle at dinner or producing a small, dancing flame that extinguished when he slid it into her hand. It made Finn happy to know that Jayden had connected to pyro the way Finn had to aerial. He gave his friend a mock salute, which was returned with a smile and a flip of the middle finger. Typical Jayden.

  Resilience was the next to arrive. Kirsa whipped the heavy door open hard enough for its collision with the wall to echo through the mostly empty theater. Even Orelon groaned at the obviously attention-seeking behavior. Amanda entered behind her, followed by Mike, who trailed by a significant distance.

  Finn cringed when he saw his friend. While Amanda looked the same as always, Mike was shockingly beat up. Bloody stab wounds covered his arms and legs under his torn uniform. His face was a collage of purple bruises, as was what little skin was visible. He walked with a pronounced limp.

  Clearly the last week of full-time practice had not made Mike stronger. What upset Finn most was Kirsa’s smug grin. It was as if she took a certain joy in Mike’s pain. She yelled at him to hurry as he hobbled toward the stage.

  Finn toyed with the cards in his pocket and wondered if eviscerate would work on Kirsa or if her resilience made her truly indestructible. He dispelled the dark thought and turned his attention to the front of the theater.