The table gets scary quiet.
Ma turns pale. “No, no, no,” she says. “Them threads keep coming! More death! Or they gonna live like Alex…” She points to the dancing warrior figurine with my brother’s face.
We saw Alex die. Maybe Mahaslost her mind. My heart sinks.
Big-Mama’s lips form a hard line. She folds her arms and glares at my ma like she’s a broken doll. “Shut up, Carmella. The power of life and death is in the tongue. Stop wagging yours, if your words ain’t productive.”
Ma hugs herself, rocking in her chair and rubbing her arms. “The curse gonna demand the blood it’s due. It’s the price of magic, the price of freedom…”
Pop-Pop strokes Ma’s arm. “We’ll be fine,” he tells her. But from his expression, he doesn’t believe that.
The African warrior figurine turns away. His muscles jerk in his wooden back as he dances again. Ma squints, and the figurine of the boy playing the violin swings the instrument at the back of the dancing warrior’s head. Tiny splinters of wood fly as he’s hit. The warrior pivots and grips the boy. The two wooden figures start rolling around on the cabinet, swinging tiny fists as they battle.
“Enough!” Big-Mama snaps.
Everyone freezes. Even the statues stop their combat and rise to stand at attention.
“I wanted to wait to have this talk when everybody was here,” Big-Mama says. “But since some of y’all can’t see fit to come when called, I might as well get started. We all know what the fog means. We’ve been seeing the signs for days now. The Tether is coming. The Gambit is here. And it’s a scary time for everybody. But I need y’all to focus on training till we know who’s going to represent the family.”
Big-Mama snaps her fingers. The red velvet curtains on the windowsopen even wider, and candlelight flickers on the table. Something that sounds like an invisible projector rattles. A ghostly hologram appears. It’s a metallic-gold card with pointy edges and swirling black trim. The card gleams and glitters in the light, like rain on a spiderweb. And in its center is a black-and-white photo of the Baldwin family. I’ll never forget Isabel Baldwin’s smiling face. I can still see her standing over my brother Alex’s corpse when I was ten years old. Seeing her face again only hardens my resolve to end the war between us, before another member of my family dies.
But it’s the face next to Isabel’s that truly snags my attention. I lean closer and blink. It can’t be… It’s the girl from my vision. From the smoke when I played my guitar. The beautiful brown girl with all that hair. In the image, her lips are curved into a smile. I point to her perfect face. “Who’s that, Big-Mama?”
“That’s Emma Baldwin,” she says. “Isabel’s youngest daughter. Her only one left. The enemy.”
Something about her eyes draws me in. “Do you know what she can do?” I ask.
“According to my spies, she can make wishes come true.”
“Is she the competitor?” I ask.
“We don’t know yet.”
My stomach sinks. I hope it’s not her. I know I have to do the thing I don’t want to, the thing that will keep everyone around this table safe. But I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to hurt anyone, especially not that girl.
Ma grips her dress and stares at the striped wallpaper. She looks again at the warrior statue with Alex’s face, her eyes getting misty, and glances back at the image of the Baldwin family. The hologram flickers like a candle, and a strange silver haze streaks across the golden card.
Big-Mama doesn’t seem to notice Ma’s pain. “The Tether chooses its champions. It’ll probably be between you and Jayla.” Her sad eyes study the floor, like she hates what may come next. “I’m cooking up a plan. We’ll use Imani’s gifts. Her sight will help us see all the potential possibilities and outcomes that lie ahead. We’ll be prepared.”
“Maybe we can end this curse once and for all,” I say as gently as possible.
Big-Mama nods. “We’ll train hard, win the Gambit, and take the power. Then we’ll kill them all.”
I can’t seem to hide the way my face twists in disgust. “Isn’t there some other way?”
Jayla tilts her head and gives me an irritated look. “You want a truce?” she asks. “Isn’t that like striking a deal with the Devil?”
Big-Mama runs her palm on the smooth wood table and glares at me.
I put my hands in the air. “Better the Devil you know than the devils you don’t. If politicians, street gangs, and mobsters can have peace talks, I know we can. We can do it remotely, or magically, for safety. Maybe they’re tired of killing and dying, like we are. Maybe they want this whole thing done, too.”
Big-Mama sighs. “Jayla, you didn’t tell me your brother bumped his head in that juke joint. He clearly isn’t thinking straight. The cursemustbe fed. The Baldwins deserve what’s coming to them. Too much has been taken from us. Too much has happened.” She flicks her wrist, and the image in the center of the card floating above the table changes to video clips. “Malcolm, get your mind right.”
My brother Charles shakes his head. “Unity? No. Not with them.”
“We’ve all been bad. I’ll give you that,” Big-Mama says. “Bodies have piled up too high over the years. So this time, this match must end the curse. If there are no Baldwins left, then there’s no one to fight. Their bloodline is gone, and we’re free.”
I want to argue with her, but there’s no point. Her mind isn’t changing. But part of me wonders… They’re in the same boat as us, stuck in this devil’s bargain. Seems to me we have more in common than we have differences.
