I take a step forward. Suddenly, I’m lifted off the ground like a raven in flight. Dirty cane fields blur at the edges of my vision. The wind yanks my damp pajama pants. My body juts out, legs flung from under me. The world blinks black as I’m tossed—no, slammed—into the door. My body slides down like a limp rag and crumples on the porch.
I look up in panic to see Emma leaning over me, her doe eyes terrified and overflowing with tears.I’m supposed to be the soldier, the protector.But her hand clutches mine tightly. “Leave Malcolm alone!” she screams at Sabine.
“Can you do that?” Sabine laughs. “Didn’t think so.”
The wind whips Emma’s hair around her beautiful brown face.
Sabine smiles. “Care to play again?”
The storm thunders on, flashing lightning and pouring down sheets of rain that turn the path from the cane field to the house into a muddy river. Sabine’s silk nightgown matches the skin it clings to as her red heels click up the stairs.
Emma helps me to my feet, and I stand protectively in front of her. I face Sabine with my fists balled, ready to protect us.
Sabine says, “If you want your siblings back”—lightning flashes—“you’ll come inside.” With rain streaming down her face, her ice-blue eyes remain cold and remorseless. “Don’t keep me waiting,” she singsongs.
Heart racing, adrenaline coursing through my veins, and my trembling hands balled tight, I stand taller. I want to rip the witch apart for the torture she’s put our families through for generations. Hell, I want to make her pay not just for owning slaves but for the 246 years and thirteen generations of slavery in America, for one hundred years of Jim Crow’s violence, for the deaths my people faced in the Middle Passage and for daring to transport me and Emma in a slave ship. But I swallow my rage, knowingthat if I get vengeance for myself and my people now, we won’t get Imani and Demetri back. Instead, Emma and I reluctantly follow her into the grand plantation home.
Sabine’s blood-colored high heels click loudly on the marble floors as she struts down a hallway lined with the portraits of smug slave owners. We follow, uncertain, behind her. Sabine stops at a wooden door and turns the brass knob. She pushes the door open to expose a room with sky-blue walls and clouds painted on them.
My lungs lock up when I see the black-and-white checkerboard floor that my ancestor had told me about. This is it! The dreaded punishment room, where the slaves who disobeyed would enter and never leave. My stomach knots up. I know this place has led to the deaths of so many before us. I can’t let it kill my first real love, too. I turn to Emma, whose face has gone chalky brown, her eyes wide with fear.
I whisper, “Go, Star! I’ll find your brother.”
Emma trembles and glances at the door. Her wet yellow nightgown clings to her as she grabs my arm. “No,” she replies, despite the fear in her wide eyes. “I’m not leaving without both of you.”
We cautiously step inside the punishment room. The door slams behind us, and the loud click of a lock echoes. I instinctively stand in front of Emma, fist balled, my body tense and ready to defend her and myself. Sabine flutters around the room like flame. The walls are covered in gaudy golden frames, each holding a grotesque oil painting. The first one shows a woman hanging from a twisted tree, her dark skin pecked apart by ravens, their black feathers bold against a bloodred sky. A painting beside it depicts a young girl with milky skin, her auburn hair pulled back in a beautiful gold bow. She has blue eyes. She’s dressed in a flowing white gown and standing in a graveyard, her tears turning into shimmery black spectral snakes that slither through the tombstones.
An enormous red eye, floating in a thick crimson haze, blinks before staring out at us from a frame, its flaming pupil following me deeper into her gallery of nightmares.
Sabine stands by majestic stone columns that hold candles with blue flames. Statues of enslaved children line the edges of the room, their stonebodies white as salt but their features frozen in eternal horror. Their vacant eyes are stilled with tears, their mouths yanked open with silent screams. Some of their bodies are eternally paused in mid-run, as if they were trying to flee from evil.
Their faces look as scared as mine must, but I still move forward. I gotta protect Emma and find a way to save my sister and Demetri from this witch. “Where are they?” I shout.
“Give us back our siblings!” Emma’s shaky voice adds.
Sabine snaps her fingers, and a cloud of ebony smoke surges up in the right corner of the room. As it clears, I hear grunting, and my heart stops as Emma shrieks. Our families are bound to high-backed chairs shaped like spades, hearts, diamonds, and clubs, as if they were created from huge playing cards. Jayla’s afro puffs have steam rising from them. The right lens in her cat-eye glasses has a spiderweb-shaped crack. My mom’s crying. She looks sadder than when we lost Alex. I know she’s scared for me—for all of us. I want to run over and comfort her. But mostly I want to free her. And make Sabine pay.
Big-Mama’s beautiful jet-black nose and proud cheekbones are covered in red scratches. Her silver coils are messy, making me think she fought like hell before she was bound by golden cuffs. Pride fills me at the thought. Pop-Pop and Charles struggle beside her, all of them restrained with gold cuffs on their wrists and a thick gold band over their mouths. The cuffs must block their power, because they can’t free themselves.
Now we are all trapped in this evil game. But Imani and Demetri are still missing.
“You wanted family.” Sabine’s voice is like shards of ice. She claps. “I wanted an audience for our little games. Seems we both win.”
A rush of anger slaps me at the sight of my mother crying. She’s already buried a husband and a son. She’s cried too much. She doesn’t deserve this. I’m her soldier. I must protect her. Legs pumping, arms swinging, I charge Sabine. Emma runs behind me.
Sabine flicks her wrist. Emma and I fly backward, lifting three feet in the air before we crash hard on our backs on her grisly chessboard. The force of the flight and the fall sends pain echoing through my spine. Wetwist, gasping in agony near the terrifying slave statues on the other side of the room.
“Now,” Sabine laughs, “thatwas against the rules.” She spins, and the wet white nightdress she’s wearing melts into a tight-fitting black-and-white checkered bustier top adorned with thousands of tiny pearl beads. The bottom blooms into a matching skirt that flows down in fluffy tiers. A bustle trails behind her in a long train.
We push ourselves to our feet and try to catch our breath.
“Welcome to the Tethered Gambit,” Sabine says in a singsong voice. An impish smile bends her lips. “This game has three rounds: The first tests your power, the second your loyalty, and the last your ability to fight for survival. In the end, whoever is left standing will claim victory. As well as the power of the person they kill.”
She smooths her fiery bun, the crow’s-feet by her eyes crinkling when she smiles. “Play my game well, and your family will be safe. Refuse, and you die. I’ll kill a member from each of your families and make Imani and Demetri play in your steads. Understand?”
Emma’s brown eyes are fearful and determined as we look at each other. We silently agree to go along with this twisted game to save our family members and execute our plan. My heart aches. Memories of Emma’s silky kisses, the smooth feel of her skin, rush back to me. Nothing in me wants to hurt her. But we have to stick to our plan—and stick together.
But how? When we planned to turn on Sabine in round three, we didn’t plan on her kidnapping our loved ones. Could we really turn on each other to protect them?
