1
“Pick a card, any card.”
A large sigh came from behind me. I turned to see Desi pinching the space between his eyes and shaking his head.
“Scout, no, it’s not like—you don’t just—okay, let me show you how it’s done.” He stepped forward, and I admired again how sleek helookedin all black, with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. He took his cards back from my nervous hands and stormed over to the guy we had taken from the wedding reception. The mark.
Desi turned back to me.His eyes, one blueandone greenwerewild with a mix of excitement and irritation. I blanched.
“You’re not a magician.” He turned back to the mark. He was fighting against his restraints, but he’d been tied pretty tightly. The human’s struggle was pointless. He was dying tonight regardless of how it happened. “You’re not Harry fucking Houdini.”
“Harry Houdini wasn’t a magician. He was an escape artist.” I corrected him, causing him to roll his eyes and let out a small growl from his throat.
“Scout. Focus. I don’t want to spend all night on this.”
“You got some other place to be?” The guy in the chair spat.
Desi slipped a hand into his dress pants and pulled out a pocket knife. He flicked it open with the expertise of someone who’d been killing people like this for the last three decades.
“As a matter of fact, I brought my girl to a wedding intending to dance with her. You’re taking far too much time.”
“Oh, well,I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Fuck you.” The rather plain man attempted to kick Desi,but his ankles were bound by zip ties to the chair legs. “Why am I even here?”
“You’re here because—” I started but was interrupted by Desi again. He clicked his tongue and shook his head at me. I furrowed my brow. I had agreed to do this with him, but his nitpicking drove me nuts.
“Don’t tell him. Let him figure it out. Why do you think you’re here?” Desi asked the man. Kevin, the man in the boring suit with the male-patterned baldness, glared at the immortal man standing before him.
“Fuck if I know. I was just attending my friend’s wedding. I was doing nothing wrong.”
“If you were doing nothing wrong,noone would have paid me good money to kill you.”
“Kill me?” The man visibly paled,and it was as if he’d punched me in the gut. As someone who couldn’t die unless you cut my head clean off, the concept of death was confusing to me. I wasn’t afraid of it like he was. I didn’t have to be.
“Scout, you there?” Desi snapped his fingers, causing me to blink and swallow the lump in my throat. I shifted in my dress and stepped back up to his side.
“Yeah, sorry. It’s just—I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? How long have you been a vampire? You’ve done this a million times.” He stared at me, his face full of confusion. I shook my head.
“Thousands,” I clarified. “But not like this. I did it because I had to.”
“Have to.” He pointed out. He straightened his spine and stepped awayasif he had all the time in the world. He looked around the room. It was a large office that Desi had taken time to cover with plastic to avoid a bloody mess. The father of the bride had welcomed everyone to his grand home for the receptionandthen hired Desi to do what he did best. “Just because you broke your curse doesn’t meanyou don’t need blood to survive.”
“I could use the blood banks.” I crossed my arms defensively. I hated when he tried to tell me what to do. “I don’tneed to doanything.”
“Yeah, but that’s no fun.” Desi grinned, his fangs flashing as he smiled. He turned back to the man in the chair. “Care to draw a card? If you make me do it,then I’ll make sure you feel everything.”
The man had beads of sweat slipping from his foreheadtohis chin, dripping onto his jacket. “Fine. Let’s do this.” His voice was shaky, as was the rest of him.
Desi nodded and pulled his tarot cards back out of his pants pockets. He closed his knife quickly,shuffled the deck, andthen brought them to the man’s bound hands. I watched with my stomach tightenedas the man closed his eyes and fumbled with the cards, finally pulling out a card. Desi took it from him and lifted it to his eyes.
A smile slid onto his face so slow it sent chills up my spine. He turned to show me the card.
Six of Cups
I stared at the card, taking it all in. Desi had spent the last few months teaching me how to read the cards he treasured with his life.
The art on the card was a child, a boy, giving a gift to a younger girl. A flower in a large vase. What was the meaning of it again? I squinted as I recalled the words I had memorized.
