All That Lives Must Die

made him feel in control.

“Toss them here, boy,” Mr. Dells said. “I’ll hold them for you.”

With a sigh, Eliot handed them over.

Mr. Dells rattled them in Kino’s direction. The taller man sneered at this and slowly sank back into his Cadillac.

Fiona ran for the front passenger’s side door. Eliot sprinted after her.

“The back,” Kino told them. “No children up front.”

They reluctantly moved to opposite rear passenger doors and opened them at the same time. Eliot paused to admire the way the car’s back swept up into two tails.

He then slid inside, and so did Fiona.

The backseats were slick red leather, the interior panels mahogany with chrome accents. There was a smell, not that wonderful new car smell, but more like plastic that had decomposed in the sun.

He and Fiona simultaneously slammed the doors shut.

“Where are we going?” Fiona asked. She nervously plucked at the rubber band on her wrist.

“A short drive to show you children the road ahead,” Kino replied. “We want you to make the right decision at the crossroads.”

As answers went, this was what Eliot had come to expect from his family: something utterly cryptic.

Eliot eased back and fumbled about for the safety belt. There wasn’t any.

“There’s no-”

Uncle Kino sped out of the alley and onto the main street without even pausing to look for oncoming traffic.

Eliot and Fiona slid together into the door.

Fiona pushed him away; Eliot elbowed her back.

As he settled back down, he noticed a statuette of the Virgin Mary on the car’s dash, her eyes upraised to the pine air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. All the car’s gauges read zero.

They were headed the wrong way to be going home. Instead, Eliot saw the trees of Presidio Park ahead.

“So why no dice?” Eliot asked.

“They are not for us,” Kino told him.

“Us? You mean the League?” Fiona asked.

“Dice are an Infernal invention,” Kino replied.

“How can that be?” Eliot asked. “Dice have been around forever.”

Kino gazed into the rearview mirror. “No good has ever come from dice.”

They slowed at the entrance to Presidio Park and turned in.

Eliot had a feeling he should keep his mouth shut, but something bothered him about Kino’s distaste for dice. Audrey had a rule for them, too, one curiously devoid of her usual legally verbose wording.

RULE 3: NO DICE.

And when he and Fiona had first been shown to the League Council, they were tested by throwing dice. Everyone had looked so nervous when Henry produced them. What was wrong with dice?

“You’ve used them before?” Eliot asked.

Kino turned around to face Eliot-no longer even looking where he was driving as he veered onto Lincoln Boulevard. His features could’ve been molded from cast iron. “No dice,” he repeated.

Eliot was used to this stonewall treatment from Audrey. He had his argument ready. “How are we supposed to learn?” he said. “Or make the right choices when we come to this crossroads you’re talking about, if no one tells us anything?”

Kino snorted and turned back.

He was silent a moment as he slowly steered the car through the entrance to the San Francisco National Cemetery. Orderly rows of white headstones surrounded them on either side.

“Sure we used the dice,” Kino said. “Many, many times in the old days. We loved them. . too much. . and made many bad choices.”

The Cadillac rolled onto a single lane that turned toward a stand of eucalyptus trees. More headstones and statues of angels appeared clustered in patches of shade.

“The last time we used dice,” Kino said, “was after we took the Titans’ lands. This was before humans even stepped from the wilderness.”

They leaned closer. No one-not even Uncle Henry-had told them about the early parts of their family’s history.

Fog swirled through the forest. No big deal in the Bay Area. . but it was kind of strange at this time in the afternoon. Strong sunlight shone through in patches and made the mists like veils.

“We had all wanted the land,” Kino continued. “We argued, used law and logic-but in the end, there were three who would not bend. Three whom men would later call Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades.”

“So you rolled for the land,” Eliot said, guessing and inching closer.

More trees crowded this part of the cemetery, plunging everything into shadow.

“Zeus rolled the highest, claiming the kingdoms of sky and earth. Poseidon rolled second highest and took the domain of water.” Kino gestured ahead. “I rolled lowest and claimed the shadowy lands that were left as my domain.”

The Cadillac eased to stop before a gate. It was simple and small: two-by-fours and chicken wire, something you might put up to keep the rabbits out of your garden.

“We knew Zeus cheated,” Kino said, sounding bitter.

He got out and went to the gate.

The gate was some sort of optical illusion, though. As Kino stood by the thing, it seemed as tall now as he was-the chicken wire more solid chain-link and padlocked, too.

Kino opened it with a touch and pushed the gate aside.

He climbed back into the Cadillac, and they rolled past the barrier.

“That was the last time we settled any matter with dice.” Kino lifted a hand off the wheel and made a sideways cutting motion Eliot knew all too well. Audrey had made that gesture countless times- indicating this conversation was over.

Eliot made a note that Kino was Hades. He’d also remember the names Poseidon and Zeus, two more important-sounding relatives he should keep track of.

He had a feeling there was more to Kino’s dislike of dice, and much more to the story of how they related to the Infernals, than he was telling. Eliot felt, however, he’d pressed his luck far enough.

Outside, cemetery headstones packed together so tightly in places, they look like crooked teeth erupting from the ground; there were statues and monuments side by side so close that no one could walk through.

They rounded another curve, and the headstones thinned and became orderly again and all had military insignia upon them. . royal crests and crossed swords and eagles in relief.

Eliot looked back. The gate was far behind them, and it had swung shut.

Kino drove up and over a low hill. There were larger structures: mausoleums, obelisks, crude cairns, and something that looked like Stonehenge. There were rolling fields and poplar trees. Sunlight broke through the fog, illuminating wildflowers and making a distant river glisten.

Eliot was positive there was no such river in San Francisco. This reminded him of one of Uncle Henry’s lightning-fast journeys across the world. It had that weird dreamy feel to it.

“This is Elysium,” Kino said. “Where the noble dead come to dwell for a time.”

“So it’s another place?” Fiona asked. “Like Purgatory?”

Kino grunted his assent and continued to drive.

So maybe this wasn’t like one of Uncle Henry’s rides. Kino was taking them to no place in this world. Did that mean they were dead now, too? No. . Fiona had gone to the Valley of the New Year, which she said was part of Purgatory-and she had managed to get back.

He rolled down his window, scared, but wanting a better look nonetheless. Outside, it smelled of fresh earth