Shuffle: A Novel Part 31

He threw two away, and Arbor dealt him two more. 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 gla.s.ses 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 s.n.a.t.c.hed 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?

a.s.suming 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 a All five Evi

Five.

Slowly, I turned my entire hand over and set it down in the gra.s.s. "I would like five cards, please."

Toby crowed. "Worse than I thought, huh? Deal the cards, Arbor. I can almost taste that b.i.t.c.h'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 G.o.d," I murmured.

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

One by one, I reached into the damp gra.s.s 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 ill.u.s.trated 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 gra.s.s 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 d.a.m.n... 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 pa.s.sed. "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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d, 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 anch.o.r.ed 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.

Meanwhile Toby and Arbor tumbled over each other toward me, Toby slamming Arbor's head to the ground with a resounding crack. Tears sprang up in my eyes as I saw him lose consciousness for a split second. But Arbor shook it off and grabbed at Toby's injured ankle, bring him down again, almost on top of the hysterical Mrs. Beasley.

I planted my feet and thrust forward using all the power in my thighs. My arms felt as though they would wrench themselves free of their shoulder sockets, but it was no use. I was too weak.

I could do nothing except keep trying.

Arbor and Toby scrambled. Closer and closer as my face purpled with the effort of unsheathing the sword. I imagined I felt it give a little. Probably just a phantom, but I heaved again and again. Maybe this time... My fingers were numb; Mrs. Beasley was screaming at the setting moon, scratching at Arbor's face as he dragged himself to his feet and stumbled the last few steps to the sword. Toby was close behind, and just as Arbor's hand touched the hilt, they both went down again, wreathed in blue flame.

I drew ragged breaths and continued my vain exertion, but I could feel the strength leeching out of me. I was throwing flesh and bone against the sword. Muscle was tearing. I almost tripped over Toby's body as Arbor flipped him, and for a second I saw his black eyes staring up at me like an abyss.

I hocked a b.l.o.o.d.y loogie and spit it into his face.

"Eauuuurrrgh!" Toby expelled a stunted wail and reflexively threw up his arms to cover his eyes and mouth. My blood-clotted glob of phlegm spattered across his chin. Arbor reached for the hilt, shaking off Mrs. Beasley and kneeing Toby in the stomach as he finally gripped it, covering my hands with his.

I felt a tingling strength return with his touch. With one tremendous heave, we drew the sword out together and held it to the sky like a beacon. Without bothering to untangle our arms, Arbor gathered himself for the kill. Mrs. Beasley threw herself on Toby, sobbing. "No! No!"

Her terrified screams rent the night, but Arbor didn't waste a second. Together, we brought the sword down with a mighty blow that cleaved them both through.

I gasped. Toby's body disintegrated in a swirl of light and ash, engulfing Mrs. Beasley in a fire that lifted her above our heads and vaporized her in the course of a few bewildering seconds. Arbor drew me up into the air, our hands still plastered to the shivering hilt; we rose through the cloud of flesh cinders as green light seemed to hum and crackle around us, gathering like a static charge at the tip of the sword.

"Oh my G.o.d."

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"Hold on," whispered Arbor. Then lightning split, some polarity reversed itself and sent the green energy rushing down the blade to rip through my body. I screamed as it hit me. My hair was blown back; I felt fire tunnel down my throat, where it split into thousands of electric worms that crawled through my intestines, seeking the surface of my skin.

I'm pretty sure my eyes glowed.

My scream died, taken on the wind to higher places, and the sword disappeared. It just faded away in the cold gray light of the morning.

"Wow." I felt an arm encircling my waist. I turned to Arbor's chest and shivered as the last of the weird electricity left my body. "Toby was even more powerful than I thought." Arbor let us down gently. I barely felt the ground beneath my feet.

"What just happened?" I breathed.

"We consumed Toby's essence," said Arbor. "And the librarian's. I can already feel the changes in my body... And I can talk. Goodness knows I never wanted this." He tilted my chin up and smiled shyly. "No idea what it'll do to you."

"Didn't it make me a reaper?"

He laughed. "No. You're still as human as ever, I'm glad to say."

I let go of Arbor and took stock of myself. My limbs were coursing with new energy; I felt light and whipfast as a hummingbird. My broken ribs were mended, and my bruises and scratches gone. The gauze fell off my thumb to reveal only a thin, white scar. I explored my mouth with my tongue; that tooth was still missing... Then I reached up to my neck and felt the three raised b.u.mps left by Mrs. Beasley's burning poker.

"They're pink," said Arbor, apologetically.

"My favorite color."