Reversed

by Alexa Grave

  Darney obliged, and they led him to the in-house facilities, which was the only clean place he’d seen so far. They stared at him while he did his business – as if they couldn’t get any creepier.

  When he finished, they led him downstairs to a dust-covered dining area. A long rectangular table that looked to seat at least twenty-four people took up most of the space. Mage Jasp sat at the far end. Another setting was placed cater-corner from the mage.

  Darney sat quickly, so the gargoyles would stop prodding him.

  They flapped out of the dining room.

  Jasp shoved a plum into his mouth and pointed to the bread and fruit piled on the table, as if Darney should help himself.

  He did so, wishing there was some meat – it had been a long time since he could afford any. Although if the gargoyles were the only form of livestock around, he’d rather not break his teeth on such fare.

  The mage didn’t attempt to converse. He was too busy stuffing his face.

  The fruit was good, almost too good. “Is this food even real?” He couldn’t take anything for granted in a mansion filled with magic.

  Jasp raised an eyebrow, as if asking with the simple gesture, “What do you think? Would I be eating so much if that were the case?” and continued breaking his fast. He could sure eat a lot for a little man.

  Darney leisurely ate his fill, but he still had to wait for Jasp.

  Finally the mage burped and pushed his chair away from the table.

  Darney had been polite enough, allowing the man to finish his meal. “Where are my cards?”

  Jasp leaned toward him, scratched his chin with a gnarled hand and tilted his head, gazing deep into Darney’s eyes. “Brown. Such an unusual color. Anyone ever mention that to you?”

  Too often. Especially his mother – she had claimed they reminded her of his father. She teased him so with such hints. “Who cares about my eyes? I want my cards.”

  “Now, purple, any shade, that’s the norm. Sometimes deep pink or even a tinge of red. Dark blue too. But brown. How interesting.”

  Darney knew all too well. Delilah had always cooed over his odd eye color. The only reason she likely stuck around for as long as she had was because of them – she’d probably hoped strong magic hid behind his unnatural eyes. Eyes from another world, she’d said.

  But the mage, he was just trying to change the subject. “Fine, you won’t tell me where to find my cards. So what do you want me to do?”

  Jasp flopped back into his chair. “No fun.” He humphed. “Today you sit in the garden.”

  “Sit? Don’t you mean tend?” Darney expected the mage to put him to work, and it would be back-breaking labor, seeing the state the house was in. He must have used the victims that had been dumb enough to walk through his door as servants.

  “There will be plenty of time for that. All this is a long process. Best get used to this dusty old manse.” Jasp brandished a wicked smile. “I mean sit. Sit and take in your surroundings. Do nothing at all – most important thing. Nothing.” He wiggled down from his chair and pushed it in, then stacked the empty plates. “The task isn’t as simple as it sounds. Well, not simple for those who have anything between their ears. Do you?”

  Darney was sick of being insulted, but before he could release a tongue-lashing at the rude little man, one of the gargoyles plopped down in front of him.

  “Come with me!” Its stony voice thudded in his ears.

  “And I have dishes to do,” Jasp said. “It’s also baking day. Nothing like fresh bread.” He trotted in the direction Darney assumed was the kitchen, mumbling under his breath about different kinds of bread.

  No other options presented themselves, so Darney followed the stone knave. He wondered exactly what sitting in the garden would entail. It sure sounded an easier task than washing dishes and baking bread.

  * * * * *

  Darney sat on a cold stone bench, forcing himself to not look at the gargoyles perched on either side of him. After they had showed him to the garden, they settled in on either end of the bench, melding to the stone as if they and it were carved out of one solid piece. Their tongues remained stuck out, a pose they seemed to like, and their granite eyes watched him. The scrutiny was disturbing.

  He surveyed the garden, determined to ignore the stone beasts. Magic clearly ran through the earth. The garden was filled with fruit trees – the brilliant purple and blue fruits seemed so vibrant against the gray backdrop of the house. Lavender leaves rustled in the breeze. A formidable vegetable garden, mostly full of eggplant, was tucked away in a far corner.

  All of it thrived, but the dirt surrounding it was as washed-out and dead as the rest of the house. The only nutrients here were made of magic. Quite a feat for a single mage, even if he was the feared Jasp. Not what Darney would have expected of the mage from the tales he had heard. No, he hadn’t thought such a man would use his magic to encourage life, but to enslave others to do his bidding. Instead, the little man seemed more than happy being a homemaker, at least in the garden and kitchen. He drew the line at dusting, though.

  But looks were deceiving. Just like the smiling child who had set fire to his card table, to an entire town – she hadn’t appeared evil. Perhaps the bread Jasp baked had poison kneaded in the dough.

  Darney pushed himself off the bench. He hated sitting, even when giving card readings. Delilah sat while delving into a person’s past, present, and future, but he felt less connected, too inactive unless standing. If Jasp’s anger rained on him for not sitting, so be it. He stepped closer to a plum tree.

  It shook its leaves at him.

  That wasn’t from the wind; only that tree reacted. Protective magic. Just the kind he should have been able to cast on his cards. Perhaps if he studied the power more closely... He reached toward the low-hanging branches.

  The tree rattled again. It growled.

  Darney snatched his hand back. He wasn’t about to find out if the bark also had a bite. Obviously only Mage Jasp could pluck the fruit from those trees’ branches.

  “Do nothing,” one of the gargoyles grumbled behind him.

  He spun, startled after being so focused on the tree. They both stared, those stony eyes burrowing into him.

  “Sit,” the other said.

  Darney crossed his arms. “And let the boredom consume me whole?”

  They stared harder, so much that he thought their eyes would crack from the pressure.

  He laughed and threw up his arms. That was the point, Jasp’s intention all along, to torture him with boredom. Do nothing. “Well, you can go tell your master that he can’t control my actions. He may have my cards, but he doesn’t have my soul. Now get, you foul sentinels.”

  For a few moments, it looked as though they’d continue their watch. Then they flapped their wings suddenly, like pigeons startled by an exuberant child, and took off for the house.

  Good riddance.

  Darney knelt at the foot of the tree, making sure not to touch the roots. He imagined them wrapping around his wrists and pulling him into the ground. Protective magic was active as well as passive, and it could consume the attacker, using the life to feed the magic and strengthen it. He didn’t want to get eaten by a tree.

  The dirt surrounding the roots looked drained, sapped, like nothing could live in it let alone thrive. He rubbed some of the dirt between his fingers and sniffed it. Magic was a give-and-take – you had to get the power from somewhere, and that meant sacrifice. The barren earth, the fading house, they all could have given life to the magic that caused the fruit and vegetables to radiate nourishment.

  Darney hated the need to sacrifice. He could never see the benefit of harming one thing to help another. The ground had as much right to health as the trees growing in it. Even if he could have protected his cards, he wouldn’t have been able to choose what to sacrifice to do so. Harming anything else was plain selfish.

  But not protecting the cards was selfish, too.

  “Murr-ow.”

&nbs
p; Darney peered over his shoulder. The black cat sat statuesque on the bench. She looked as full of life as the fruit. Actually, the fruit almost paled in comparison to the life she radiated. The diamond at her neck had a blue tinge to it. It sparkled, even through the constant cloud cover.

  And the beautiful blue eyes fixed his gaze. They looked familiar. The answer forced him to his feet. Of course, the cards. In every card, cats’ eyes glittered in the background. The Magus had blue eyes in its backdrop, just like this feline’s. Piercing blue eyes.

  He stepped toward the cat.

  “Murr-ow.” She jumped down from the bench and disappeared into the trees. They didn’t attack, not seeing her as a threat.

  Darney had forgotten to thank her again.

  She was obviously a taunt from the mage, after Darney had banished his gargoyles. A feline meant to play tricks with his mind. If torturing him with boredom wasn’t working, making him crazy was the next best thing.

  And Darney couldn’t get the Magus card out of his head – the eyes in the background, the ones that looked so sad when upside-down. Even though the card accused him every time he saw it, he missed it; he missed every single card in the deck.

  If Jasp wouldn’t tell him where his cards were, he was going to find them. No more sitting idle in the garden.

  The Magus’ demanding gaze burned in his mind, the blue eyes in the background blazing. And the determination he had felt when climbing to the house filled him again, grew inside of him, until he felt ready to burst.

  Darney reached out for The Magus’ heartbeat, as he had reached for the branches of the tree. He raised his hand, as if ready to pluck something from the air. Wind whipped through his blond hair, the long locks brushing his eyelashes.

  There it was, quiet, but there. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. The tiny little breath of life.

  He stretched further, feeling for the edge, a sharp edge that could rip through skin. There.

  The Magus card appeared in his outstretched hand, upright.

  Magic brought the card to his hand. His magic. Perhaps Delilah had been right all along. And the only thing he had sacrificed was his own foolish lack of confidence. A part of himself, but still a sacrifice.

  Finally. The spark lit within him and cascaded through his body. He made himself feel it all, and his elation enveloped him. My magic.

  Darney slipped the card in his pocket, brushed back his hair, and went to find Jasp.

  He had to thank the cat twice now.

  * * * * *

  Darney entered the kitchen to the smell of bread baking in the hearth. The room was clean – not a speck of dust in sight. Jasp obviously refused to bake with dirt around.

  The little man kneaded dough on a counter, flour spotting his ratty robe. Both gargoyles flapped around his head.

  Jasp looked up from his dough and squinted at Darney. “These two say you disobeyed me. I told you to sit in the garden.”

  “Done sitting.”

  “You’re done when I say you’re done.” He shook a floured finger.

  Darney pulled The Magus out of his pocket. “I’m done.”

  Jasp gasped.

  The gargoyles stopped flying and perched on the counter, looking like expensive cookie jars.

  “I guess my first assessment was right.” Jasp wiped his hands on his robe, smearing the flour even more. “You come here to make a fool of me, boy?”

  “No. I came here for your help, but I grew tired of playing your games.”

  “Games? It’s not your place to question my methods. You do as I say, like all the others. I am trying to help you, but teaching takes time, and sometimes you have to break a student so you can reform his mind.” For a little man, the redness of his face and arch of his brows made him seem tall and imposing, though that could have been more magic.

  Well, Darney had magic of his own. “You shouldn’t have sent your cat, then.”

  The redness deepened, nearing a purplish shade. “My cat? I don’t have a cat. Just these blasted gargoyles.”

  The gargoyles stuck their tongues out.

  Darney thought the mage was joking, trying to trick him, but then he saw he was past pulling strings and setting traps. A muscle twitched under the man’s eye.

  “You come to my home.” Jasp stepped toward him, the formidable step of a powerful man. “You claim you need my help.” His voice climbed in strength. “But no, you came here to show me up. To throw your powerful magic in my face.”

  Darney shook his head. “Not at all.” What had happened? He had wanted to find his magic for so long, but he hadn’t intended for it to cause so much trouble. “The cat. There was a cat.” He no longer wanted to thank her, but curse her. “She showed me the way.” The little heartbeat in his hand trembled.

  Jasp reached Darney – even though the man looked up, it felt as though he were looking down. “A cat.” He glanced at the gargoyles. “Go find this cat.”

  They zipped off.

  To Darney’s credit, he hadn’t backed away when Jasp approached. But right then, he wanted his cards and to leave this mad man behind. “The rest of my cards, please.”

  “Your cards.” Jasp laughed. “They don’t belong to you. You know that, right? They are part of Fate – they belong to no one.” He took a few steps back, twirled his hand in the air, and the cards came swirling down from the ceiling, landing in front of Darney.

  The tiny heartbeats thudded through the floor and into Darney’s feet. And they whimpered and screamed, still injured from their bout with the demon child. He wanted to gather them to him, tuck them into his pocket, and tell them it would all be fine. But he couldn’t quite yet.

  “You were able to call one of them to you. Can you heal them, though?”

  With the Magus card in hand, upright and smiling with pride, the cat eyes glowing in determination – he could do anything.

  Darney focused as he had in the garden, spreading his arms, stretching his senses toward all seventy-eight heartbeats. The cards rose from the ground and swirled like a miniature cyclone. He blew on them, his breath a balm of life. No, he wouldn’t pull from anywhere else to use his magic – only from inside himself, the power that his mother had seen in him, a well that had been untapped. He’d sacrifice bits of himself for his cards, which would likely diminish the length of his life, but it was better than choosing to siphon the power from other living things.

  The cards glowed. The wails stopped. The heartbeats slowed as Darney’s magic enveloped them. One by one the burn marks filled in with healthy new paper, the pictures on the faces repairing themselves. The wrinkles in the Fool smoothed out as if it had never been crumpled under the foot of an infuriated child.

  And Darney wove in protection spells along with the healing, making sure no other damage would be done.

  Whole again, the pain removed, each card slipped back into his hand, under The Magus.

  He felt older, if only by days, but it was well worth it.

  “Well done, boy.” Jasp smiled – a smile that hid a hook. “Those eyes of yours definitely hide a strange magic.”

  “Thank you.” All Darney had to do was turn around and walk out, flee this crazy mage who should remain alone with his stupid gargoyles.

  “But it’s time to pay up.” Jasp clapped his hands together, and the cards appeared in them. “I did say there was a price.”

  Darney stepped forward. The gargoyles returned to the kitchen and grabbed an arm each, holding him back. “You didn’t do anything, though.”

  “If I hadn’t sent you to the garden, you wouldn’t have found your magic, even if an interloping cat helped you find it.”

  “But my cards.” He had fought so hard, traveled all that way to save them – he couldn’t lose them. Finding his magic wasn’t worth that price.

  Jasp wagged a finger back and forth, a tiny floured pendulum. “You forget so quickly. Not yours. Part of Fate. And these cards are rather young – they still have journeys ahead of them.” He threw them up into the
air.

  The Tarot cards flapped about like a flock of birds then darted out an open window.

  Darney struggled out of the gargoyles’ grasp and ran to the window, but too late. The cards disappeared into the clouds.

  “You may yet cross paths with them again one day.” Jasp’s voice actually sounded consoling. “And when they’re done wandering the worlds, well, perhaps they’ll return home to you. No promises, though.”

  Darney advanced on the little man – the rotten little man. “You wretch!”

  “Ah. Now, now.”

  The gargoyles swooped in and knocked Darney off his feet.

  “I know the price is steep, but I won’t leave you empty-handed.” Jasp waved his right hand, and a different deck of cards appeared in his palm. They looked worn, like Jasp’s robe and house. Drained of life. Neglected. “These could use the attention of a good card reader.”

  The gargoyles grumbled.

  “I want my–”

  “Ah – not yours, remember. Goodbye, Darney. I’d be lying if I said it was a pleasure meeting you, but you and that cat disrupted my quiet life, and there’s nothing more I hate than being disturbed.” Mage Jasp twirled his hand yet again, and then vanished from sight.

  Darney looked about. He was no longer in the kitchen of the fading house, but in front of the gate at the bottom of the hill.

  No, he wouldn’t let that rotten little man do that to him. He ran to the gate, but a chain and padlock secured it. He touched the wrought-iron – heat seared his skin, and he yanked his hand back.

  About to assail the gate again, Darney paused. A warmth on his hip stopped him. Seventy-eight old, yet new to him, heartbeats thudded at his side. He pulled the deck from his pocket.

  The Magus sat regally on top, still upright. The art was the same, but faded. These cards did need someone to tend to them, to care for them. To protect them.

  Darney peered up the hill. He couldn’t get his deck back by storming the old mage’s house – nothing would come of threatening or harming Jasp. He turned to the woods, the leafless trees stretching to the sky. If he wanted to find his cards, he had to look for them out there.

  A spot of black darted across the path, heading deeper into the trees. Was that the glint of a diamond? No matter; he didn’t really want to see the cat again, even if she had helped him.