Shuffle: A Novel Part 30

"Thank you for coming," I said.

He drew me to the bed and cupped my face in his warm hands. "You're welcome." He kissed my forehead. "Evangeline, you are eternally welcome." Then he turned, eyes searching in the darkness for the other heart that beat there. "I would like to know who you are. The one whom the poet loves. The one who has been creating such havoc."

He grimaced. He was speaking in vague terms, but even this came too close.

Toby stepped out of the shadows. He held a gun.

"Lieutenant Collier," Arbor sighed. "I should have recognized you at the police station this afternoon."

"I made sure you didn't," said Toby. "I may be younger than you, but I'm much stronger."

Arbor's face was flat and expressionless, as always. But I was starting to be able to read those dark eyes. I could almost see the gears in his brain whirring, calculating odds, running scenarios and cataloging available resources. He took my hand, and squeezed it comfortingly.

Toby waved his gun, indicating me. "I take it you know why Evi has invited you here."

"She was obviously manipulated into doing so," said Arbor. "Who do you have? Ellen?"

"Callie," I whispered. "She's in a coma at the hospital. He's trapped her soul in a playing card."

"Limbo," growled Toby.

"Whatever."

The three of us stared at each other for a few seconds. I could feel Arbor's heart beating in his fingers.

"Evangeline did what you asked," he said, voice even. "Let her sister go."

Toby lurched forward and grabbed Arbor's arm, lifted him off the bed with such force that my hand was ripped away from him. He shoved the shaft of the gun into his throat, throwing him up against the wall with a boom that shook the foundations of the house.

"You think I'm that stupid?" he hissed. "She gets Callie back when I get you."

"Don't!" I screamed. "Please..."

I jumped up and tried to insert myself between them, but it was like trying to bend steel bars. I hit and clawed, but my blows made no impression. Toby was choking Arbor; I grabbed his arm and tugged with all of my strength. Nothing gave. He shook me off and I fell sobbing to the floor.

"Weepy little girl," said Toby, "battered and abused, just a p.a.w.n in the game of strong, unemotional men. How many times have you seen this in the movies? Are you surprised that the tropes are true? That you really are as worthless as you seem?"

Arbor didn't look very strong himself, at the moment. Toby was holding him up against the wall by the neck, gun buried in his cheek. I bit my lip and stared down at the carpet. I couldn't watch. Toby was right. I was dealing suddenly with a bigger world, with forces beyond my powers to comprehend, much less control. He was trying to get a rise out of me with his meta-commentary nonsense.

Why? Why is he bothering to bait me?

I looked up again. Toby was still clutching Arbor's neck. His fingers were red; he was squeezing as hard as he could and still Arbor's bright black eyes were open. The gun clicked. A bullet fell to the floor, unfired and whole.

Click. Click. Click.

Toby emptied his rounds into Arbor's head. They refused to cooperate, fell lazily one by one.

"You can't do it," I breathed, heart pounding. Temporary relief coursed through my veins and lit my face with a small smile. "You can't kill him, and what? You think you can use me to distract him? Nice try."

I saw now that Toby was unsure of himself. "Jesus Christ," he muttered at Arbor. "Just die, why don't you?"

"I'm afraid there are certain rules," said Arbor. He glanced at me and I knew at once what to do. I plugged my ears and hummed while Arbor spoke to Toby, allowing him to explain without getting hurt. I watched his mouth move in weird patterns, almost as though he were speaking a different language. Slowly, I saw Toby's grip on his neck relax, until finally he withdrew his arm and holstered his useless gun.

Arbor turned to me and nodded.

I took my fingers out of my ears, let the hum die on my lips. Toby was grinning.

"Your friend has agreed to sacrifice himself."

"What?" I cried. "No! Arbor, you can't!"

"I can," he said, simply. "I will."

Toby climbed out the window and hovered in the dark, cold air. The oak tree creaked in the wind behind him, its old bones loosing their leaves to fly and drift downward, to skate across the lawns and sidewalks. Dead leaves from dying branches.

Arbor took my hand and straddled the sill. I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him in close. "Please don't do this," I said.

"We can't beat him," Arbor sighed. "He's much too powerful. All I can do now is save your sister." He started to choke and gasp again as he said, "That's my job."

I let him pull me out of the window, trusting in him completely. With his arms wrapped around me I floated. It was an odd sensation of total buoyancy. As if I were bobbing on a calm ocean that I could neither see nor feel. The world seemed vast. Open. I looked over the crown of the tree and saw the lights of Denver, whirled in Arbor's embrace until I was facing the mountainside, ground running up and up, vertically, the sweeping western wall of Colorado. And then Arbor let gravity take us gradually down. My heart sank with my body.

We landed soft on the dewy gra.s.s 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 t.i.tanic, 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 antic.i.p.ation.

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 gra.s.s 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. .h.i.tting 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, s.h.i.t. 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 gra.s.s. "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 antic.i.p.ation. 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 gra.s.s. 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.