Wager's Price

by G. P. Ching

  “Why did Gabriel call you Daughter of Angels?”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Because I am. My father was an angel named Gideon who fell in love with my mother, who was a fallen angel. They couldn’t be together. Good can’t be in the same place as evil, and fallen angels have evil in their skin. But they worked together and did God a favor, and in return, He made them human.”

  “They could finally be together. Sounds romantic.”

  “It was. They got married and my mom—her name was Abigail—became pregnant with me. But then the war between Heaven and Hell happened.”

  “When was this?”

  “2012.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “You won’t read about it in any history book. It was wiped from the memories of the human population. Lucifer and his fallen angels occupied Earth for a time and the Soulkeepers, including my parents, had to stop him. To make a long story short, I was born the day both my parents died at the hands of a fallen angel. My adoptive parents, Jacob and Malini, are former Soulkeepers who knew them well.”

  “I’m sorry about your real parents.”

  “It’s not like I ever knew them,” she said, but Finn could tell there was pain there, under the words.

  “I never knew my mother either, but it still hurts not to have her. She died when I was born too.” Silence stretched between them in the darkness. “That’s pretty wild that you are, in fact, the daughter of angels and your real parents are why you are a Soulkeeper.”

  “Yeah. It’s genetic. Only, the Soulkeeper gene can’t be activated anymore—that’s why I’m the last one. It has to do with fate and balance and natural law. There was also this agreement that ended the war.” She yawned. “Probably more than you wanted to know.”

  “I wish I was you.”

  Hope laughed. “What about my story would make you want to be me?”

  Finn scratched his ear and tried to put it into words. “You know who you are and what you’re supposed to be. When I go home, I’m facing the choice between taking Spanish since I failed French last semester or maybe giving up on foreign language and becoming a plumber.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but I can think of several scenarios where a plumber would benefit from speaking Spanish.”

  “I think you just made my point. Everything about your life is important. You’ve had this talent handed to you without even trying. Not only am I not good at anything, but I have no idea what I could be good at if I put in the effort. My life is so… so… insignificant.”

  Hope didn’t respond for a long time, long enough for Finn to be on the verge of falling asleep by the time she did. “You’re a good friend, Finn. That’s significant to me. I think you underestimate yourself. Maybe outside of Revelations you’re not supposed to be the best at any one thing. That doesn’t mean you don’t have a purpose. You might be the person who helps other people be the best at what they do. All I know is, I’m thankful that you’re my roommate. I couldn’t do this without you.”

  Finn fell asleep thankful that Hope was his roommate too.

  43

  Preparations

  The day of the show came faster than Finn ever expected. Was he ready for this? Not only did he have to give the performance of his life in front of his father, he needed to save Mike from certain death and help Hope stop the clowns from stealing anyone else’s souls. For the seventieth time, he checked that his cards were safely tucked up his sleeve.

  “Hold still. I have one more adjustment to make.” Jenny fussed with a strip of fabric that hung from Finn’s shoulder blade, splitting it with a pair of scissors. “Jump. Let me see how it moves.”

  Finn leaped into the air, arms extended, and dropped quickly to give her the full effect. Red, blue, and black feathers splayed outward with his movement. His costume, from the white strip of makeup that veed upward from the tip of his nose, to the feathers he wore over his hair, all the way down to his painted feet, was designed to make him look like a phoenix. Wendy, on the other hand, was dressed in black and orange silk, long and smooth, to resemble a monarch butterfly.

  Jenny clapped. “You have wings, Finn. You look fabulous. You two will knock them out of their seats.”

  “Thanks, Jen.”

  “You’re welcome.” She started packing up her supplies, smiling to herself.

  “You did an incredible job on these costumes. All of them. And I have no idea how you got the set done in time.”

  “It was Mrs. Wilhelm’s crew. There are dozens of them living here, and they all seem to be related. She was born on the island.”

  “And they all wanted to be servants? No one leaves?” He was genuinely curious if Mrs. Wilhelm’s crew could leave, even if they wanted to.

  Jenny stared at him quizzically. “They’re not servants, Finn. They’re managers. Facility managers. It takes a ton of expertise to pull off what they do every day. It’s not like there’s a Walmart on every corner here. And the logistics of getting everything where it needs to be is nothing short of a daily miracle. Mrs. Wilhelm and her family have a gift. They’re proud of what they do, and they should be.”

  Finn’s stomach sank. He had an idea of what Jenny was getting at and as someone who spent his pathetic basketball team involvement on the bench, he understood in a personal way. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You’re right. What you do—what they do—is the most important part of the show. It makes everything else happen.”

  Jenny smiled. She lifted a hand to brush back her hair and Finn noticed a series of tight, straight scars on her wrist.

  “What happened?” he asked, reaching for her.

  She tugged her sleeve down. “Nothing. Old battle wounds.” She laughed but wouldn’t look him in the eye.

  Finn let it drop.

  “You’re a good person, Finn Wager.” She walked behind him and tugged the small pyro box that was fastened to his back. After a second, he heard the subtle cloth-on-cloth sound of steady stitching. “I don’t believe for a minute you burned down that school.”

  “Thanks. I didn’t.” He smiled at her over his shoulder.

  “Jayden told me.”

  “You never said what you did to end up here.”

  Her face fell. “I hurt someone. Almost killed them.” She tied off her stitch and cut the thread. “I caused a car accident. Drinking and driving.” She shook her head. “I must have fallen asleep.”

  “Must have?”

  “I don’t remember the accident. I don’t remember anything.” She tugged at the shoulders of his costume. “You’re ready. Don’t forget that this thing is only flame retardant for a maximum of three minutes, so unless you want to join the pyro troupe, get it done before then.”

  “Okay.”

  She stared at the floor to his right for a second, her hands on her hips. “You know what’s strange?”

  “Pretty much everything about this place.” Finn snorted.

  She laughed in agreement. “Besides that.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I’d done it before, drank and drove. I’m from rural Oklahoma. You can drive a hundred miles without seeing another car. I’m not saying it was right. I’m saying that I got away with it before—times I’d drank so much more. This time, I had one beer. One. I wasn’t even buzzed. But the next thing I know I have a half ton of metal wrapped around me like a second skin. I hit the pastor’s wife. The kindest woman I’d ever known. Put her in a coma for a month.” Jenny’s face went slack, emotionless, as if she held her guilt at an arm’s length. “They tested my blood. I was under the legal limit for an adult. Minors don’t have a legal limit. Besides, when the pastor’s wife almost dies, someone has to pay. So here I am.” She lifted a graceful eyebrow and tossed her platinum hair over her shoulder.

  “Life sucks sometimes, you know?”

  “Yeah. Only this didn’t turn out so bad.” Her bubblegum-pink lips bent into a grin. “I never did anything like this in Oklahoma. Something about this place
makes me want to… create. I think it’s making me a better person. Plus, there’s Jayden.” Her cheeks warmed to a blush.

  Finn’s eyebrows pinched together above his nose. “I think I know exactly what you mean.”

  She nodded her goodbyes and descended the metal scaffolding toward the stage where the pyro troupe had convened. How could he have ever thought she looked like Barbie? Jenny wasn’t plastic. She was a survivor like he was.

  The murmur of voices attracted his attention across the stage. Hope had arrived, wrapped in layers of teal and sapphire silk with a fan of peacock feathers behind her head. Her blue eyes seemed to glow from beneath falsely extended lashes. The amount of makeup she wore rendered her almost unrecognizable, but he crossed the catwalk to compliment her and put her at ease. She had a big night ahead of her.

  “You look great.”

  “Thank you, Finn. How sweet you are.”

  “Are you ready for this?” Finn wasn’t talking about the show.

  Hope gave a toothy grin. “Of course. This is the night we’ve been training for. Finally, the performance, and then we can all go home.”

  She was acting weird. For one, he’d never known Hope to smile so much, and the way she sat was far too feminine. Hope was a girl who carried great reserves of coiled energy, like she might punch you in the throat as quickly as say hello to you. Today she seemed passive and submissive. He had an urge to smudge her lipstick.

  “Have you thought about what I said?”

  Her face went blank. Blink. Blink. Big, empty doe eyes. “About what?”

  “About doing the best you can to make this show special for my parents.”

  “I’ll make you sparkle.”

  He backed away along the scaffolding. “Do you want to meet my mom after the show?” he asked lightly.

  “I’d love to,” she said, the smile firmly in place. “I’ll see you then.”

  A prickle danced across the back of his neck. He fought to keep it from his expression. “Cool.”

  Hope knew he didn’t have a mother. They’d talked about it on multiple occasions, as recently as last night. Carefully, he swooped to the platform where Orelon and Wendy made final preparations. When he landed, his hands were shaking.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Wendy asked.

  “Just nerves,” he lied. But it wasn’t nerves. He’d just met Hope’s doppelgänger. He’d known something was up the minute she’d acted like she didn’t know about their conversation. The clown had taken a piece of her hair. Why hadn’t he considered this possibility? And if her clone was here, where was the real Hope? And what did that mean for their plan?

  Orelon clapped his hands. “One more time before the big show.”

  Finn didn’t have a single opportunity to search for the real Hope. Orelon made him and Wendy practice all the way up to the performance. Worse, he had no way to contact the real Ms. D to tell her Hope was missing.

  “Oh, I see my parents!” Wendy said. She pointed to the theater doors from the scaffolding above the closed red curtain.

  Finn searched the faces entering the theater, and sure enough, there was his dad. His heart swelled. He hadn’t thought about how much he’d missed his father until now, and with the danger all around him, he was tempted to fly to his side and beg to go home. But he couldn’t. He’d promised to help. Mike’s life depended on him.

  His father and the other parents milled among a crowd of the wealthiest patrons he’d ever seen in one place. The email HORU had read to him about Revelations before he’d come here wasn’t misleading. His father’s business suit was downright plain beside the glitz and glamour of the rest of the audience. A sheik with gold embroidered robes entered with six attendants who tossed rose petals at his feet. An entourage of burly men carried an African princess, dressed in a gown made entirely of sapphires, into the theater on their shoulders. A geisha, wrapped in silk with a white face and red lips, followed an ordinary Japanese businessman to his seat. It wasn’t difficult to imagine any of these people paying $10,000 per ticket.

  The parents of the students were easy to find. They were the ones gawking at the other attendees and looking completely underdressed. Finn finally understood what HORU’s research had suggested. This place didn’t just attract the wealthy; it made people wealthy. The entire time the audience was here, the star was working its magic on them too, making them better at whatever it was they already did.

  “Take your places,” Orelon said. “We’re about to begin.”

  Wendy walked along a narrow rack of stage lighting to the rigging where her red silk was fastened and sat down to watch the start of the show. Once Orelon descended to help Natalie double-check the set, Finn was finally alone. He flew to the platform near the scene curtain and pulled the joker from the sleeve of his costume.

  “Theodor,” he whispered over the card.

  A draft ruffled his costume, and then the magician was there. He straightened his bow tie and tugged at his cuffs. “What is it, Finn? I’m opening the show. I don’t have much time.”

  “They took Hope.”

  Theodor froze. “No.”

  “Yes. The person sitting in that box with Juliette is not her.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Ravenguard and Applegate are missing, either. What should we do?”

  “You were right to bring this to me. I can help.” Theodor rubbed the side of his face. “After your performance, lure the clowns to their hive.”

  “What? How?”

  “I’ll be waiting for you. I’ll set a trap. Without Hope, you’ll need help.”

  “You want me to act as bait?”

  “Yes. Bring them to me. I’ll end this.”

  “What about Hope? We have to find her!”

  “I will. After my performance. Ravenguard and Applegate are secretive and infamously good at what they do. I can’t make any promises, but I do promise to try.”

  Finn frowned. “They’ll hunt her, Theodor. Follow the dogs.”

  The magician wrung his hands. “Don’t give up, Finn. We move forward, with or without her. Agreed?”

  This was not how it was supposed to be. Hope was the hero, not Finn. He couldn’t do this without her. Still, he nodded his head. It came down to this: he’d rather die saving his friends than live knowing he hadn’t.

  Theodor’s gaze drifted to the stage. “I must go. Lead the clowns back to the hive. I’ll be there, and I’ll be ready.”

  All he could manage was a nod, which was lost in darkness as the stage lights extinguished. It didn’t matter. Theodor was already gone. Finn tucked the joker card back into his sleeve with the others.

  Below him, a single spotlight clicked on and focused on the imposter Ms. D.

  “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen.” The clone’s hair glowed silver against her sparkling purple suit. “I am Victoria Duvall, dreamer, imagineer, performance architect. Today, I bring you the finest in athletic talent in all the world. These students have trained for months to tell you this story, a tale of transformation. But I have a secret.”

  She reached into her pocket and produced a velvet bag. “The actors do not know that I have procured a measure of fairy dust with magic capable of rendering the ordinary extraordinary.”

  Wrinkled, spotted fingers dug into the drawstring and opened the mouth of the bag. Instantly, a shower of sparks sprayed toward the ceiling, fireworks that grew bigger and broader, expanding the size of the bag until it became too large for the imposter to hold. She dropped it onstage.

  The audience gave a collective gasp.

  “Prepare yourselves,” the clone said from beside the geyser of sparks. “Tonight, the laws of nature are rendered powerless. Tonight, everything changes, including you. Tonight, the magic is real. Now, without further hesitation, let us all embark upon… Metamorphosis!”

  She spread her arms, and the heavy red curtains parted to reveal a stunning display of color and light. The voice of an angel
pierced the space from the balcony above.

  The show had begun.

  44

  Infraction

  Hope came awake in a dim cinderblock room that smelled of death. Her head throbbed and her arms ached. Based on the warm, wet heaviness in her hair, she was sure the first was due to a blow to the back of her head. The pain in her arms required no deductive reasoning. Her wrists were chained to the ceiling, her flesh raw where the manacles dug in. Although it hurt to stand, she managed to get her feet under her, but still couldn’t lower her arms enough to relieve the pins and needles feeling in her hands or the ache in her joints.

  What happened? She’d woken that morning and left the dining hall in order to meet Juliette and prepare for tonight’s show. The memories bubbled up in incomplete, foggy segments: Ravenguard waiting inside Juliette’s door. Juliette yelling, “Infraction.” Her peacock-feather fan waving. An explosion of pain at the back of her skull.

  Sweat ran down her cheek and she wiped it away with her shoulder. The heat in the small shed was stifling and the airflow from the two-inch slit near the roof, the building’s only excuse for a window, was almost nonexistent. The moonlight coming in through that slit was barely enough for her to register her surroundings.

  “Gabriel,” she murmured. She shifted, trying to free her triquetra, tugging one bound hand toward her neck. On her tiptoes, she was able to run her fingertips along the base of her throat, feeling for her amulet in the dark. “No. No. No.” Gone. Without it, she was still a Soulkeeper, but she couldn’t call Gabriel for help. She squeezed her eyes closed against the dark and cursed under her breath.

  A grating rattle echoed in the small space, like a chain slipping through a metal ring. The scrape and slap of metal on metal made her teeth hurt. The door slid open, moonlight streaming in around a dark silhouette.

  “Help me,” she said. She didn’t know what else to say.

  “There is no help for you. Not anymore. You’ve earned your punishment.” Ravenguard’s long, cool fingers clasped one of her wrists.