“I believe I already explained that. And the fact that I
“How am I to let Gavin go?” Alice was getting truly worked up now. “I don’t hold him. I don’t chain him down. He’s free to leave anytime he wishes.”
But when the words left Alice’s mouth, a pang went through Gavin. He shook his head. “No,” he said.
Alice halted and twisted on her stool to look up at him. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t leave you, Alice.” His throat grew thick, and his jaw trembled. “I could never leave you. I love you always.”
Her eyes softened. “I know, darling, I know.” She took his hand. “But I’m not
“You’re leading me, Alice Michaels.” The snaps and sparks that danced across Charlie’s brain created a hypnotic pattern of particles that blurred the edges of Gavin’s vision. Words poured from his mouth in an electric river. “You go, and I follow. You pulled me out of that tower of destruction and changed me, and then you took me through the city of white and changed me again, and now you’ve led me down to the city of sulfur to change me one more time. You bring me places, Alice, and I can’t stop you and I don’t want to stop you.”
“Is it a bad thing, Gavin Ennock?” she whispered.
“I don’t know.” The half trance fell away, and he gave a little laugh. “I’ve never been in love before.”
Alice smacked the table with her free hand. “What’s the point in making prophecies if they don’t make sense? Why can’t a fortune-teller—or priest—simply say, ‘Don’t leave the house on Wednesday; you’ll be hit by a streetcar’?”
“The monsignor did say he couldn’t see everything properly,” Gavin reminded her. “At least now we know that I have a role in spreading the cure, too.”
“There’s one more card,” Linda said. “I saved it for last because it landed some distance from the others.”
From her pocket she pulled another card and laid it face up on the table. It showed a white-haired man seated on a throne surrounded by water. He wore blue robes, a yellow cloak, and a crown. In one hand he held a large cup and in the other he held a scepter.
“This is the King of Cups,” Linda explained. “He’s a fair-haired man, very artistic, patient, and unselfish, but given to flights of fancy. He cares deeply about others and shares their pain.”
Gavin picked up the card to examine it. “That sounds a little like me, but—”
“It’s not you, honey. Kings are older men, and fathers.”
The remark sliced through Gavin like a knife made of ice. His fingers went numb and he dropped the card again. It landed on the table. For a moment he couldn’t speak. Then he said, “This is my father?”
“Probably,” Linda said. “Court cards are usually people, and kings are often father figures. It fell away from the others, which tells me that the person is far removed, but coming closer.”
Gavin touched the card with a shaky finger. “I always thought he was dead. Where is he? What is he doing? Why did he leave me? Us?”
“I don’t know.” Linda looked sympathetic. “I just know he’s out there somewhere, and your destinies are intertwined.”
Alice gathered up the cards and handed them to Linda, her posture once again brisk. “We know nothing of the sort. I’m sorry, Linda. I know you believe what you’re saying, but I simply can’t.”
“Listen, honey,” Linda said, “the reason for casting fortunes isn’t to tell you what will or will not happen. It’s to let you know the choice is coming so you can look at your options and prepare yourself instead of being hit blind. Believe or don’t believe—it doesn’t matter. We’ve had the conversation, and you can’t unhear it.” She reached into her pocket and handed them each a small candy wrapped in paper. “Butterscotch?”
“I’m not twelve anymore, Linda,” Gavin said, but the remark came out a little dazed.
“Honey, you’re young enough to be my grandson. As far as I’m concerned, you’re six.” She shooed them toward the door. “Now, get out there and change the world before it changes you.”
Chapter Nine
The zombie straightened. Its eyes cleared, and it slowly wiped the drool from its chin with a sore-encrusted hand. Alice lowered the spider gauntlet with a sigh. She’d lost count of the number of people she’d cured now, but the relief and satisfaction she felt for each case never lessened. This was seventh or eighth plague zombie she’d cured tonight, and she was feeling a little light-headed now.
Behind her, Gavin played his fiddle, something sweet and soft, and she drank the music in as the zombie shuffled off into the shadows of Kiev. Berlin had been difficult without Gavin, more than she wanted to admit. She drew strength from every note he played, and Feng was no substitute, even when he played Gavin’s music with the little nightingale.
“My father taught me that song,” Gavin said. “I’m sure he did.”
“Hm,” Feng said. “How can you miss a man you barely remember?”
“I just do.” Gavin sounded testy. “You wouldn’t know what it’s like. You had a father all your life. You got to live with him, work with him, see him every day.”
“And live with his disapproval,” Feng added. “Maybe it’s better not to have a father. Then you have no one to disappoint. Perhaps you should think of that.”
“Now, look—”
“Boys,” Alice said tiredly, “I know we’re all nervous, but I’m not up for mediating an argument. I would prefer to move on now.”
Gavin looked away. “Sorry.”
