The Serpent

by Sarah Fine

  “I’m Irish,” he said drily.

  “I said ‘neck.’”

  “I think I need another drink.” He poured a third.

  “Please don’t get too drunk to actually tell me something useful.”

  The full shot glass sat untouched on the desk in front of him as he turned in the creaky office chair. “Like I said, the Forger is our maker. He makes the cards. He decides who gets a deck. He decides what they must do to get it and to hold on to it. He assigns us tasks as he sees fit. And he keeps track of debts and calls them in from time to time.” Gabe said all of this in a tight voice, rimmed with anger.

  “You don’t sound like you much care for this guy.”

  Gabe looked away. “When he shows up, it’s often exactly when you’d rather he didn’t, and if he appears when you call for him, you’d better be willing to pay a steep price. The Marks are the only way to guarantee yourself an audience with the Forger and to get a favor without owing him.”

  Ernie’s heart skipped. “Could he release me from this curse or whatever I’m under? Could he unbond me from the snake?” Even as she said it, Ernie felt a pang. Like she needed to apologize to the paltry half deck Gabe still had in his pocket. “Speaking of, can I have them back?”

  “Fair play.” Gabe looked pleased as he fished in his pocket and retrieved her cards. “You were looking a little antsy without ’em.”

  She grabbed them and held them tight in her grip, but unlike before, they were cold. “Dude. I’m antsy because my mom has been kidnapped and I happen to be dying. And you’ve just told me that there might be a way I can slip this noose, so spill.”

  He lifted his drink to her, then took a sip. “The Forger is like one of these generals,” Gabe said, gazing at his glass again. “Looking at a map of the battlefield and moving troops on a whim. That’s all we are to him.”

  “Fine, so maybe he’ll understand that I need my name crossed off the roster, if I can manage to summon him from—where, exactly?”

  “The center of the universe, according to him,” Gabe said, rolling his eyes. “And I hate to tell you this, but he won’t unbond you from the cards. This is exactly the kind of chaos he enjoys.”

  Ernie slumped. “Then what could he do for me?”

  “What’s the most common favor asked by a Dealer?”

  “A cooler mascot? I think I saw a dung beetle on one of those tiles.”

  “You’re not taking this seriously.”

  “I’m as serious as cancer,” Ernie snapped. “Quit acting like you’re Socrates in a ponytail and just give me answers, would you? I want to get my mom back and go take a nap.” She wanted to ask for another drink but knew it would put her on the floor.

  “You might be able to get him to make you a full deck. Or to replace the cards you’re missing.”

  It was like a shot of espresso. “Seriously?” But the problem hit her a second later. “Wait. Are these Marks reusable?”

  Gabe shook his head, looking like a nap might do him some good, too. “That’s why they’re so valuable.”

  “Then I can’t use one to summon the Forger and ask for help—I have to take them all to Duncan.” She pointed to the crumpled ransom note he’d left, which Gabe had set atop a pile of her mother’s invoices. “I can’t risk it.”

  Gabe was looking at her as if she were a two-tailed squirrel. “So what’s your plan? You’re going to show up”—he leaned over the note—“alone. And summon Duncan. You’re going to give him the Marks. And your cards, because surely you recognize there’s no way he’ll let you leave with the other half of his deck? So he takes the cards, and you . . . die. At that point, you’re imagining he’ll bundle your ma into a car and drive her home?”

  “He could call a Lyft,” Ernie said, folding her arms over her chest. “Is there a card for that?”

  “You’ve got a crack for everything, haven’t you?”

  “Would you prefer I curl up in a ball and cry?” Ernie’s thoughts were a storm, but she’d spent years hiding her soft underbelly, her squirmy feelings. Being abandoned by one’s father did that to a person. So did having to take care of the woman he left behind. “Didn’t you threaten to take my cards if I tried?”

  Gabe spun the shot glass and eyed the bottle as if he were considering having another go. Maybe he’d been more rattled by the encounter with Akela than he’d let on. “If you go to Duncan without a plan, without any power, you’re dead, and so’s your ma, and I assume you care about the latter, at least.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Gabe let his face fall into his hands and muttered something in that foreign language he’d used to speak to his bird.

  When he didn’t immediately raise his head, Ernie decided she needed to reconnect with the outside world. She pulled her charger and phone from her purse and plugged everything in. “Where do you think he’s got my mom? Can we track her?”

  “He’ll be concealing her,” Gabe mumbled from behind his hands.

  “Why wouldn’t he make it easier for us to meet up? He didn’t even give me a meeting place or a timetable!”

  “Time is something he has more of than you. More cards, more experience, more chances to draw this out a bit. Weaken you. Maybe summon more allies.”

  “So he could have taken her to Peru or something?”

  “Nah. He’ll be closer than that. He’s probably wanting to save his strength—the more plays you make, the more it drains you. The farther you go, the more you deal, the more you need to recharge after, though some of us can go longer than others.” He let his hands flop to the desk, and his broad shoulders were hunched. “The cards aren’t infinite, and neither are the Dealers. Things start to sputter out when you overextend, and that’s particularly true if your deck isn’t complete.” For a moment, Gabe’s gaze found hers, but Ernie couldn’t read what lay behind it. “He’ll be feeling the loss of those cards pretty keenly, I wager.”

  “Is that why he wants the Forger’s Marks?” she asked, glancing at her charging phone as it registered a voicemail from Dia.

  “He was trying to get them before you snatched half his deck, recall. He wants them for something else.”

  “The same thing you wanted them for?”

  “What the bloody hell, Ernie?” His expression darkened with anger. “Am I trying to steal the Marks from you? You’ve seen enough today to know that I could just take them and your cards, and dance off on my merry way. But have I? Again and again, I give you every reason to trust me. I put my kestrel and myself at risk for you, when others would have tossed your life into the discard pile. And yet here we are, you still treating me more like an enemy than a friend.”

  Ernie’s eyes had started stinging as he spoke, and now she clamped them shut and turned her face toward the nail-studded window. “I’m sorry. I’m just . . .” She put her hand over her chest, which had gone uncomfortably tight. “I’ve only ever depended on myself, okay? My dad walked out of my life when I was eight, and my mom . . .” She sighed. “I’m all I’ve ever had, and I’m used to people letting me down. I’ve learned to brace for it.”

  Ernie stiffened as she listened to the office chair creak, as she heard Gabe’s footsteps approaching. She knew he was near, even though she hadn’t opened her eyes. The urge to make a stupid joke or skitter away was powerful, but she forced herself to stay still, though her heart was beating like a rabbit’s. She flinched when his hand covered hers, but the warmth of his skin and the gentleness of his touch melted some of the tension.

  “I understand being let down by the people you love,” he said quietly. “And in the face of it, loyalty and devotion are rare and precious things.”

  Ernie thought of Dia chiding her for postponing so many plans just so she could make sure her unstable, grieving mother was still eating and breathing. “Some might call it a stupid cop-out, but okay.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Don’t do that. Look at me.”

  She took a hitching breath and obeyed. He was kneeli
ng in front of her, and he was so close. “Gabe . . .” She couldn’t do a therapy session right now. She needed to be strong, and this was making her feel squishy and weak and vulnerable. She shook her head.

  “Do you know why I didn’t drop that lorry on your face last night?”

  She snorted. “Because it would be a crime to damage something so perfect?”

  “You didn’t care about your face. Or your life. You only cared about your ma. And”—he looked up at the window, then back at the doorframe, both decorated with her mother’s half-crazed handiwork, then around the office, which was cluttered and dirty and graced here and there with random things her mom had left lying around: a toothbrush on the bookshelf, an empty container of Cup Noodles resting in the dry dirt of a dead potted plant, a dingy-looking bra dangling from the closet door handle . . . all things Ernie was so used to seeing that she didn’t even notice them anymore—“from what I can see, she’s not exactly the full shilling, and your loyalty isn’t because she has always looked after your every need.”

  “She’s my mom,” Ernie whispered.

  “I understand how that is,” Gabe murmured. “That, at the very least, I hope you can trust.”

  She forced herself to meet his eyes again. This didn’t look easy for him, either, which actually made it a little easier for her. “It’s better to rely on just yourself, you know?”

  A shadow of sadness flitted across his face. “You’ll realize how wrong you are when you’ve lived as long as I have.” He released her hand.

  Ernie pulled her hand from the armrest and into her lap, tamping down the thought that she wished he hadn’t let go. “Well, though you don’t look much older than I am, I hope you’re right.”

  “If you want to find out, I suggest you use one of those Marks to call in a favor.”

  “That’s it? I just ask him for a replacement deck?”

  “You ask him for specific cards. I can tell you which ones.”

  “And then what? I meet up with Duncan and rescue my mom?”

  “With my help, yes. But you saw Akela. She was out front for Duncan, which means he has at least one ally.” He paused, looking troubled. “Which means we need more than that.”

  “I saw you outside the hotel this morning with someone,” she blurted. “That’s why I ran. I thought it might be Duncan.”

  He chuckled. “The last thing the two of us would ever do is engage in friendly conversation. No, I called in an ally of my own. You’ll meet him later.” He stood up and swayed a little, steadying himself on the Hoosier.

  Ernie watched him with a twinge of concern. “Are you okay?”

  His fingers went white-knuckled over the edge of the cabinet. “Grand. I’m going to make some more inquiries.”

  “What, down at the local coffee shop?”

  “Seems as good a place as any. I’ll be back soon.” He headed for the door.

  Ernie stared. “And you’re leaving me here to do what?”

  “Grab a quick kip, eat something, and then get to know your cards—but please don’t do anything daft. When I get back, I’ll make a list of the cards you need, and show you how to use the Mark.”

  As Ernie pondered the weirdness of Gabe—whom she’d just watched engage in mortal combat with a spider the size of a garbage can—strolling down Biltmore and sipping a latte on the patio at Double D’s, she realized something: the real world was still out there. “Crap. Crap crap crap,” she said. “I’m supposed to be at work. I didn’t even call in sick.”

  “Maybe you should call in permanently.”

  She glared at him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “I wasn’t implying you’re going to die, though that is a possibility. I was implying that your life has changed, love. And as unfair as that is, you need to face it.”

  “I’ve had more than my fair share of unfairness. It’s not like I’m not used to it.”

  “Good. You’ll adjust quickly then,” he said in a flat voice, and then he was out the door, leaving only the sound of his clomping footsteps.

  Ernie sat in the silence that followed, trying to figure out his tone. They’d had a moment there, when he’d been close enough to share warmth, when he’d held her hand and made her feel like she could rely on him. But now he’d gone back to that brisk, brutal manner he’d had when they met, the one that made her believe he would sacrifice her to stop Duncan. She realized he’d switched back and forth between those two gears several times in the hours she’d known him. Then again, she probably had, too, as she dealt with two warring impulses—to trust him, lean in, and hold on tight, or to push him away, run as far as she could, and go it alone like she always had.

  She shook herself a little, needing to put the armchair psychologizing aside. She had other things to deal with, like calling in sick to work so she could engage in an epic battle for survival. Of course, if she survived, she’d still need a job. She should have asked Gabe how a Dealer actually made money. Telling fortunes down in the parking lot beer garden at Wedge?

  Ernie sank back in the uncomfortable wooden chair, feeling like her muscles had turned to wet cement. She was so tired. But she dialed Dia’s work line and lifted her phone to her ear—it felt like doing a Herc hoist on a bad day. Dia had probably been calling to find out where the heck Ernie was this morning anyway, and she could tell their boss that Ernie was sick.

  “Mission St. Joseph, Records Department,” Dia answered. She sounded congested, like she had a bad cold.

  “Hey, it’s me,” said Ernie. “Listen, I—”

  “Where the hell have you been?” Dia practically shouted. “Didn’t you get my message?”

  “I’m sorry I flaked out. I’ve got some things going on, and—”

  “Things going on? What?” Dia was silent for a moment. “Oh, god. You don’t even know about Jules, do you?”

  Cold prickles, emanating from her heart, spread across Ernie’s chest. “Jules? What about Jules?”

  “Ernie, Jules is dead.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  As she listened to Dia, her words interspersed with sobs, explain what had happened, Ernie realized she was on the floor. Her legs had given out. “This is a mistake,” she said weakly. “You’re wrong.”

  Dia let out a shuddery sigh. “They pulled the car out of the ravine last night. Her mom told me that her dad died instantly, but Jules . . .” She was quiet for a few moments. “Not that it matters. She’s gone, E. And you know what I can’t get over? She knew it was going to happen. We tried to convince her it was all in her imagination. But she was right.”

  “No,” whispered Ernie. She remembered the look on Jules’s face that last night, the tortured sound of her voice. Duncan had done something with his cards, and he’d made her feel all the pain of her death. “That bastard.”

  “Do you think . . . if we’d have believed her, listened to her . . . Do you think we could have prevented this?” asked Dia.

  “I don’t know,” Ernie said honestly. “But the guy who did that to her is going to pay.” It came out of her as a hoarse growl. She hadn’t even cried yet, but the terrible grief was right there, already choking her. It was going to crush her if she didn’t harden up. Fortunately, her hatred of Duncan was solid emotional armor.

  “Whoa, whoa,” said Dia. “I think what we need to do right now is focus on Jules. On her mom—she told me that they’ll have a joint funeral on Saturday. In Charlotte. We can drive together. But Ernie, I don’t think we should tell her mom about what happened at the bar. Or the guy with the cards. It would just make a hard thing harder.”

  “Right,” said Ernie. “Sure.” It seemed likely that by then, either Duncan would be dead, making peace a little bit easier to come by, or Ernie would be, in which case peace would be more or less irrelevant. What mattered was trying. What mattered was stopping Duncan from hurting anyone else. Ernie was willing to bet that he left a trail of damage wherever he went, and her mom might be his next victim.

  But Ernie had a c
hance to stop him. If she was strong enough. Clever enough.

  “Are you coming in tomorrow?” asked Dia, breaking into Ernie’s thoughts.

  “I . . . honestly have no idea. I may need the rest of the week. This, on top of everything else—” Her throat was too tight to continue. Jules. Her mom. Her entire life.

  “I totally get it,” said Dia. “I’d be out if I had a single day left, but I already have a negative balance on my PTO. But you never take vacation anyway. Just don’t use up too many days, or you won’t be able to go on that trip you’re planning.”

  “Oh.” The trip planning seemed so far away now, like something that had happened in another life.

  “You have to go now, E. Jules would have wanted you to.”

  “Yeah, okay.” It was easier than explaining. Because—god, how could she ever explain?

  “I gotta go now. I’ve been a mess all morning, and of course we got a bunch of records requests that have piled up. Are you going to be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine,” said Ernie. “I just need a few days.”

  “Text me if you want to get together.”

  “I will. Thanks, Dia.” She hung up and stared at her phone, reeling, thinking of all the ways she could have been a better friend, all the ways she might have helped Jules. Maybe even saved Jules. She stowed her phone and pulled out her cards, thumbing through them one by one. The pictures beneath the symbols were blurred and dark, no moving images like she’d seen a few times before. Nothing to even hint at what these cards might do. Gabe had summoned a mirage of himself, one that had caused a scary distraction. He had blown hundreds of pounds of falling tree branches away from her. He’d transported her across an ocean and kept her hidden. All of that, with cards like these.

  She held the power to change things, right here in her hands. But she had little idea how to access that power, and she’d have to put her life on the line to wield it. She’d have to fight. Right now, her body sore and her brain begging for a nap, she wasn’t sure she was strong enough. With a sorrowful sigh, Ernie pushed herself up from the floor.