Shuffle [YA Paranormal Romance]

by Avery Bell

  We landed soft on the dewy grass in my backyard. Toby stood before us, arms crossed and foot tapping, impatient. Arbor left me and knelt before him, head down.

  “Just speak the words,” he said.

  Toby nodded. He widened his stance, stretched his hands out to the sky and cried, “Do ut des! Facio ut fiam!”

  I give so that you might give. I make so that I might be made.

  He flipped a penknife out of his pocket and cut a small gash across his palm. Then he held it out over Arbor's head. I watched in the weary light of streetlamps as three drops of blood spattered into his hair.

  “The sword will appear,” choked Arbor, shifting his weight. “One stroke at the neck.”

  Something was taking shape in Toby's injured hand. His brow knit as his fingers gripped the hilt of a long, flaming sword. It was titanic, impossible. The blade glowed in the night, its brilliance like a beacon as he raised it to the sky.

  “Uriel's sword,” he gasped. “It's so light...”

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “The sword of Uriel, the Second Mover,” he said in breathless awe as he gazed up along its great length. “With this sword, she guards the gates to the Last Planet, letting no one enter until the appointed time.”

  “That's a myth,” said Arbor.

  “You're a myth,” Toby laughed. “And here you are. Imagine what I could do with this...” He gripped the hilt with both hands and took a few practice swings above his head. The sword danced. It was so sharp, it seemed to cut the air itself.

  “You requested it,” gasped Arbor, forcing the words out as he sank lower. “It is here. It may only be used for this purpose. If you try anything fancy, it will just disappear. So get on with it.”

  Toby breathed in deeply. He positioned himself behind Arbor, cold flames licking his wrists as he raised the sword high, ready to strike. This was it. Arbor would die, he would be gone forever. I wracked my brain as Toby's eyes widened with anticipation.

  One more moment and he would strike. The blow would fall. Arbor's head was down, his jaw held rigid, steeling himself for the end.

  Toby shifted his grip, choking up on the hilt. He reached back, and...

  “I bet you my life!” I cried.

  Arbor's head jerked up. Toby let the sword down, pressing it to his heaving chest as he turned to stare at me. The blow did not fall.

  “What did you say?” he asked.

  “I bet you my life,” I said, running forward, stumbling over the grass to Arbor's side. “You said it yourself, you can't resist a good wager. Well, I'm going to give you one.”

  I threw my arm up against the brilliance and tried to spin some words from my mouth. Anything, just to buy some time. “I'll let you eat my soul. Callie's too, if I lose.”

  Toby laughed. “Why would I need your puny soul? I have Arbor's now.”

  My mouth was dry. I was dizzy with the smell of burning oxygen, the thin atmosphere becoming even thinner in the vicinity of the flaming sword.

  “But you want Callie's,” I said. “Admit it.”

  He swung the sword around and plunged it into the ground, leaning on it sideways, legs crossed nonchalantly. “Go on.”

  “You've always liked her. I know she can't... add... much to your existence or whatever, but you want her anyway.” I saw his lips tighten, and I knew I was hitting a nerve. “It bugs you that you're going to have to give her up.”

  He shrugged. “I know how to make sacrifices for the greater good.”

  “So come on,” I said. “Side bet.” I whipped my head around and caught Arbor staring at me, clearly confused. “You're in, right?”

  Arbor blinked at me quizzically. “I don't understand.”

  “If I lose, you get me, Callie, and Arbor. Both what you want and what you need.”

  Toby nodded slowly, considering this. “And if you win?” he asked. “Don't tell me I get nothing. I wouldn't take that bet in a million years.”

  “Not at all,” I gulped. “If I win, I get Callie back. Right now, before Arbor dies. That's what I want... to know you're not cheating us. Arbor, you've offered to give your soul up in exchange for Callie's. Don't you want to make sure the deal goes through?”

  “If I were cheating you,” hissed Toby, “you'd be dead already, girl.”

  Oh, shit. He was right. He could have killed me, Callie, and Arbor as soon as the sword materialized in his hands. Think, Evi...

  “And,” I said, “I get to be a reaper.”

  Arbor bit his lip and shook his head. “No, no, no,” he muttered, “that's not what you want...”

  “What?” demanded Toby.

  “There must be a way. I win, the deal goes through like we discussed, plus you make me a reaper. Someone has to take over your duties here after you leave, right? Think of all those poor dead spirits, restless and wandering around Stevens Peak without a guide...”

  There was silence for a few moments. Arbor tried to catch my eye, but I looked away. I didn't want him to talk me out of this. I had a new plan: win the bet, make sure Callie was safe, and become a reaper.

  Whereupon I would risk everything to wrestle that sword out of Toby's hands and kill him with it. It was the only way I could see to save them both.

  “I get to choose the nature of the bet,” said Toby.

  “Fine.” I nodded my head gratefully. “That's fine.”

  I rose unsteadily to my feet, dragging Arbor up with me. He tried to whisper something in my ear, but I shook him off. “I know what I'm doing,” I grumbled, as Toby paced around in front of the sword staked in the ground, hand stroking his chin.

  “You liar,” said Arbor.

  “What's good for the goose...”

  “Shut up,” snapped Toby. Then he clapped his hands. His face was lost in the shadow of the oak tree, but I heard a low chuckle. “I've got it. One hand of five card draw.”

  My stomach curdled. I was horrible at poker, and Toby knew it.

  But I gritted my teeth and said, “Okay. Arbor deals.”

  “He'll die either way, is that it?” asked Toby. He laughed and sat down on the grass. “Fair enough for me.”

  We made a semicircle in the light of the flickering sword, knees almost touching. I shivered in the cold pre-dawn. I'd almost forgotten my shoulders were bare. My neck still ached, and the wind blew through me like drifts of invisible snow. I took a deep breath as Toby drew the cards out of his breast pocket. He shuffled them six times, smoothly and methodically riffling the deck into new, random configurations. Then he handed them to me.

  My hands were stiff, my thumb still wrapped in gauze and seeping blood. I positioned the cards on my knees and let them fall against each other in thick chunks a couple times. Good enough. My fingers were shaking with fear and anticipation. Toby had all the power. Nothing to lose. And I felt as though I'd already lost everything.

  I set the cards down.

  Arbor cut the deck. Then he dealt five cards to both of us. He stared at me with his dark eyes, unreadable as they mirrored the frolicking flames. I think he was cursing me. Yeah, well, maybe he was right. I'd placed my soul in danger, for so little gain... Evi Wild may be some things, but she's no Einstein.

  And she's no good at poker.

  I gazed down at the five red Bicycle designs resting on the green grass. I didn't want to look. My fate, in five worn rectangles of cardboard. I don't really know how to pray, but as I drew them up to my chest, I closed my eyes and hoped with all the strength I had left in me.

  Slowly, I spread them out into a tight fan.

  Ten of spades.

  Ten of diamonds.

  Seven of diamonds.

  Eight of clubs.

  Jack of hearts.

  I glanced across at Toby. He was holding his cards loosely, relaxed and studious. “Who gets to draw cards first?” I asked.

  “I will,” said Toby. “Only fair, since I chose the game.”

  I nodded.

  He threw two away, and Arbor dealt him two m
ore. I watched his face as he picked them up, and my heart did an aching swan dive into my gut at the broad grin that spread across his face. There was no bluffing in this game, after all. No need to hide emotion. If I were a better poker player, I could have guessed at the strength of hand he was holding. Two pair? Flush?

  Whatever it was, it looked pretty strong.

  “Your turn.”

  I bit my lip and stared down at my hand. I switched the cards around, fanned them out... I noticed that the face of the Jack was that of an old, brown man. He had round glasses and white sideburns. He was holding a hammer in his hand.

  The man who fell off his roof in Oldtown.

  I got chills as I stared at his face. His eyes were tired. He looked so sad.

  “Come on,” griped Toby. “We don't have all night.”

  The way I saw it, I had two choices. I could throw away one of the tens and ask for just one card, trying to make a straight. I'd need a nine. Or I could throw away the seven, the eight, and the Jack and try to hit two pair, or even three of a kind. That was certainly the safer play, but it all depended on what Toby was holding. If he had a flush, my only hope was to draw two tens and make a four of a kind.

  “One,” I said, shakily. I held out the ten of diamonds and then snatched it back into my hand. “No, wait... Three? No...” I hunched over my cards, willing them to be less difficult.

  “Let me guess,” said Toby. “You're deciding whether to go for a straight or not. A good poker player would know the odds.”

  Maaaath.

  I closed my eyes and told myself to think. If he had a strong two pair, say Aces over threes, maybe trying to fill my straight was the way to go. If I went for my own two pair, I might make it, and it might still not win. On the other hand, did trying to draw for three of a kind make more sense?

  Assuming he didn't have a full house or something practically unbeatable.

  Suddenly a dead crow flashed before my eyes. The sound of a stream. Piles of slippery stones.

  All five, Evi.

  My eyes flew open. I glanced down at the five cards clutched in my trembling fingers. All five. I couldn't... Could I?

  I heard the voice again, the screaming, terrifying voice that had haunted me on the playground. Suddenly its words were clear. They echoed through my ears, overlapping and creating a resonance that was suddenly deafening.

  All five, Evi. All five.

  Five – All five

  Evi

  Five

  Slowly, I turned my entire hand over and set it down in the grass. “I would like five cards, please.”

  Toby crowed. “Worse than I thought, huh? Deal the cards, Arbor. I can almost taste that bitch's soul...” He slapped the ground in triumph, and reverently brought his hand up the length of the sword's blade through the writhing, fulvid fire.

  Arbor hung his head. His face, normally so serene, now looked as though it were held together by strings. No tears. Just thirty lifetimes of repressed pain etched clearly in every line.

  He dealt five new cards. They lay there on the ground before me, where the others had lain a few minutes before. I wondered if these were any better.

  “That's it,” said Toby. “Now there's no going back.” He turned his hand over and spread the cards out so that we could see his full house. Eights full of Aces.

  “Oh God,” I murmured.

  “Let's see 'em, Evi. Turn those suckers over.”

  One by one, I reached into the damp grass and flipped them face up.

  King of hearts. It was a little boy. A toddler, head crowned in clouds of acrid smoke.

  Queen of hearts. Callie again, with her limp gun. I noticed there were now two tears on her illustrated cheek.

  Ten of hearts.

  Jack of hearts. An old, wrinkled woman holding a bouquet of roses. A dark bruise colored her forehead, like a stray splotch of ink.

  Heart thudding, I placed my fingers over the last card. Not even a flush would help, now. It had to be...

  Ace of hearts.

  Toby was stunned. His mouth dropped open and his eyes grew wide; even his irises seemed to dilate with fury.

  “You cheated.”

  “No I didn't,” I said. “It was weird luck, that's all.” Only I knew that this was a lie. I'd been given help... from some quarter or another.

  “I meant the dealer.” Toby's face was red and wroth. I couldn't see the whites of his eyes anymore. They'd disappeared leaving nothing but pits of flickering, bottomless doom.

  “Of course I didn't,” spat Arbor. “You think I want her to be a reaper? Endless sleep is a kinder fate than that.”

  They rose, glaring at each other in the light of the fire. A silent conversation was taking place. Then, quicker than my eyes could follow, they both lunged for the sword. Arbor got one hand on the hilt as Toby clutched the blade. They went tumbling one over the other, death between them.

  The flames climbed higher, flaring outward with the hiss and crackle of new life. Arbor was still weak from so much truth-saying; I could tell he was weary. But he held on as Toby yanked them both from the ground.

  “No,” I pleaded. “Arbor, please...” But there was no one to hear. So I whispered please, please to the deaf wind as I watched them struggle.

  Arbor was so slight compared to Toby. Tall, with arms that seemed now painfully thin and hollow. Toby's considerable bulk only grew larger by the moment. Again it was as though he gathered the world in around him like a drawstring, bunching the air and the grass and the dead leaves into his muscle as he wrestled for the sword.

  But Arbor drew strength from some deep reserve. Sweat beaded on his brow in the firelight as the giant sword juked and twisted, narrowly missing one of his legs. He managed to use its momentum to swing it upward, almost wrenching it from Toby's grasp and nearly taking off his ear in the process. But Toby recovered, grabbing the top of the hilt with his other hand, clawing at Arbor's steadfast fingers.

  They were at a stalemate again, and it was brute strength on either side of the gleaming blade. Arbor turned his body, rolling his back toward Toby and whipping him like a jackknife. Toby held on easily and stifled the momentum as he pulled Arbor forward, face two inches from the line of fiery, tempered steel. Their bodies heaved with the effort, each exerting a force ten times that which a human would have been able to muster.

  “How are you feeling, reaper?” growled Toby. “Ready to give up?”

  But Arbor did not take the bait. To answer would have been truth-saying, and he could waste no more energy on that.

  Suddenly, Toby thrust out his arms, pushing Arbor back and causing him to stumble. One hand flew free of the hilt, and Toby stepped on his chest, wrenching the sword to the sky and tearing it out of Arbor's other hand with a roar.

  Arbor pushed the heels of his palms into the wet ground, struggling under the weight of Toby's boot, jerking and seizing beneath him like an earthquake. But the man leaned forward, demonstrating his command of Uriel's sword, crushing Arbor's chest so that he gasped and fell back.

  “One stroke at the neck. Is that all?” He raised the sword.

  I shrieked and took off running, barely aware of what I was doing, and barreled into his back at full speed. The collision hit me like the force of a thousand semi-trucks, crunching my ribs and sending me careening ten feet backward into the trunk of the oak tree. Toby didn't even flinch.

  I coughed and spat out a tooth.

  “Pretty weak, Evi,” he called. “But you won't be around to regret it much longer.”

  Just then I heard the sound of rustling leaves. Someone else was moving through the yard, coming up behind me. Toby didn't notice. He was cackling over Arbor, who still lay helpless on the ground.

  “I should have killed you by now,” he laughed, “but damn... This sword feels so sweet, I just don't want to give it up. Don't want it to fade away.”

  I heard the person more clearly now. Their gait sounded uneven. As if they were dragging a leg...

  “Oh well
,” Toby shrugged. He poised himself for the killing blow.

  A scratched, dirty hand reached around the trunk of the oak tree and Mrs. Beasley pulled herself into view. A towel was knotted around her thigh, soaked in blood. Her hair was matted with twigs and refuse, as if she'd rolled down the mountain rather than walked. She staggered forward, hopping on her good leg, shouting in a strangled voice.

  “Take me!” she cried. I don't even think she saw me as she passed. “Please! Tobias! Reap me. I can help you. My soul is strong. I want to be with you forever!”

  Toby paused and pivoted, relieving some of the pressure on Arbor's chest.

  “What the...”

  In that split second, Arbor took hold of his ankle and twisted it savagely. I heard a snapping sound, like the crack of baseball bat on a home run ball, and Toby howled. He clutched his leg and crumbled to the ground.

  The sword went flying. It almost hit Mrs. Beasley as she opened her arms, lurching forward to embrace Toby. But it whizzed over her head, spinning through the air like a Catherine wheel, and pierced the ground at a weird angle not three feet from where I was slumped against the trunk of the oak tree.

  The breath went out of me. I'd almost been skewered.

  Now Toby and Arbor were rolling on the ground, wrestling and landing punches, shoving each other back as they tried to crawl toward me, to the sword. Mrs. Beasley leaned over them, tugging at one of Arbor's arms, trying to prevent him from hitting Toby.

  “Don't you... you little bastard, you cost me everything!”

  She tripped and fell into the storm of fists and fingernails. I came out of my numb trance and hefted myself to my feet, using the trunk for leverage. My hands found purchase on the rough bark. My knees groaned, but my legs held me up. I limped to where the hilt of the sword was sticking awkwardly out of the earth. It was buried to half its blade's length.

  The fire was now glowing a pale blue.

  Come on, Evi. I willed myself to touch the gleaming leather, to wrap my sore fingers around its girth. It was as thick as a man's arm; I couldn't quite get one hand around the hilt. I used both to encircle it, knit my fingers together and threw my weight forward and up, trying to drag it out of the ground.

  The weight was like nothing I'd ever felt. It didn't budge. Didn't even give, as though it were anchored to the core of the earth with a fifteen-ton chain. I grunted. A sharp breath knifed through my lungs, and I tried again, straining with my entire being. Nothing.