City of Souls

and words were a little more up to speed. They’d been obviously messing with me before, a group of friends ganging up on a dupe.

“Well, I didn’t know. I’m from…” I was going to say Vegas, but remembered they might not know that. “A transient town. You could have relocated.”

“Maybe,” he said, as if he couldn’t remember. “Which lantern marks your entrance?”

“That…one…” There were eight lanterns, all evenly spaced across the wall, all with identical frames, powder coat finishes, and evenly burning flames. I know the lantern, Diana had said. But I didn’t.

The black man rattled his chips. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

They all laughed again.

And How do I get out of here? suddenly rose to the top of my question list.

Boyd dealt again. When it came my turn to sweeten the pot, I threw back the albino’s chip. He was annoying me the least.

“You get to ask your question too,” Boyd said, puffing lightly at his pipe, though his eyes were assessing.

I rattled my chips-my strengths-still thinking about that. Discovering a way out of here was clearly important, but I wanted to find Jaden Jacks now. To do that, I’d have to eliminate the men in this room, one by one. So, with a glance at the motionless piano player, I sipped at my drink. “What’s Mackie’s deal?”

Diana had said he might know who Jacks was, so I’d start with him.

The black guy’s eyes went wide as he risked a glance at the pianist. He quickly looked away, though Mackie hadn’t even twitched.

“Mackie ain’t exactly one of us…but he’s not one of them either.” He jerked his head toward the dealer and Bill. Just as I’d thought. Working for the house. Boyd smiled unapologetically, and I wondered if they were tulpas like Skamar and my father. “He’s reportedly the last of the Nez Perce. Hear of them?”

Not in recent years, of course. The Nez Indians had tribal lands north of Nevada, dating back five hundred years, but like most Native Americans, they’d been displaced. Had that resulted in Mackie’s relocation this far south? And when? Because though I’d yet to fully see his face beneath that bowler, it looked like brown parchment had been fisted around his neck. I realized I was looking at a piece of living history.

Well, living-ish.

“He’s been here the longest,” the black man went on, throwing down a chip, still in. I’d have asked his name, but knew he wouldn’t say, so I silently named him Hippie as I added my bet to the pile. “Nobody knows anything about him, beyond not to touch his piano.”

“And that he keeps a knife on him at all times.” This from the Asian, who didn’t seem to have issues with revealing information that wasn’t about himself. He continued play as well. “They say it’s where he keeps the last ounce of his soul, transmogrified in the blade. He’s been hanging onto it by refusing to say anything. Refusing to move unless he has to. Refusing to give up knowledge or energy or anything that will contribute to this world.”

I glanced at Bill and Boyd, but they didn’t seem to have a problem with him telling me this, and a skein of panic arrowed through my belly. Contribute to this world? Is that what we were doing?

“But you must communicate if you want to live here,” Boyd added after the albino folded, and revealed the final of the three flop cards. My anxiety spiked again. No chance for a straight, but one more spade? Flush. “You have to allow your personal power to be used to fuel this world, or at least wager it.”

Because even if you didn’t lose, I realized as I matched and raised, the interaction kept the others wagering theirs.

Hippie jerked his head back at Mackie. “He was his tribe’s storyteller, so his music is his payment-”

“Except now it is our stories he tells,” the Asian put in sourly. I wondered how long ago he’d thrown in his happiness chip.

Boyd sat up straighter. “Don’t share that with her.”

The albino turned his black eyes on Boyd and flipped him off so closely that Boyd went cross-eyed. “She asked about Mackie. She earned the right.” He turned back to me and smiled. I bet he didn’t get a lot of chances to flip Boyd the bird.

“The songs,” I said, studying each man’s face. “Like the one he began when I came in? That was my song, wasn’t it?”

“The songs are what bind your ass here.” Hippie slumped farther in his chair. “They keep this world going. Once completed, the Mother will know everything about you.”

He said “the Mother” like one would say the Earth, or the World, or God. I swallowed hard.

“When the murder ballad is complete, the poster will be drawn. Your name-your true name-will be printed across the bottom.”

The Asian cut in. “And once Mother knows everything about you-”

“She can draw from your energy reserves at will.” Hippie pursed his lips as he studied his cards, finally folding. “She don’t even have to wait for you to lose, if she don’t want. Basically, we’re all here on borrowed time.”

So our powers literally fueled this world. We were energy. Little power plants with beating hearts. I fingered my chips idly, back and forth, until the one I’d won from the Asian caught my eye. His name was printed on one side, Shen, and his star sign and Zodiac troop was on the other.

“Pisces of Light?” I asked, twirling it absently, noting it because we’d been missing ours the entire time I’d been with my troop. I saw from Hippie’s chip that he was a Capricorn and-

“Damn you!” My chair back and head cracked against the rough wooden floor and my vision went sparkly as Shen’s hands found my neck. Tinkling laughter, feminine and bright and amused, rang in the air.

“That was my secret to tell. My power!”

“Get off of her, Shen!” Bill yelled from behind the bar. “You’re wasting energy. Yours and hers.”

But he didn’t waste any of his in helping me.

“You bartered my power. You rendered it useless!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” I choked out. Shen squeezed harder. Then suddenly he was gone, lifted so high in the air I was looking directly up at the soles of his shoes.

“She didn’t know, Shen,” Boyd said calmly, and sat him back in his seat.

“I could have won it back! Now it’s null! That part of me is voided out forever!”

“I’m sorry,” I added, sitting up. I really was. I knew how I’d feel if someone had just nullified a power of mine. “I-I’ll pay you back.”

“One of your chips!” he yelled, spittle raining down on me. “My pick!”

“No.” I didn’t want to give him that, but I felt bad about the loss. I looked at the dealer. “Can I give him someone else’s chip?”

Boyd scratched his head. “No one’s ever asked that before.”

“Because no one’s that stupid,” Tripp said, and chuckled darkly.

“No. Hers alone. It’s only fair.” Shen crossed his arms. The other men nodded.

“Fine.” I wasn’t going to win this argument. I’d just have to win the hand. I smirked at Tripp as I found my feet. “Any other ground rules before we resume the game?”

“Yes,” Shen yelled, still angry, though he was already rifling through my chips. He palmed a chip before I could see which he’d taken. Ungrateful friggin’ Pisces. “Keep your hole shut!”

I sat again and counted my powers, unable to figure out what was missing since I didn’t even know everything I’d had, but from Shen’s smug expression, and the sudden interest in his pile, I knew I’d just lost something big.

Preoccupied with this, and really feeling the relentless heat, it was unsurprising when I also lost the next hand. To be fair, it was probably just bad luck-Hippie had the next best hand and he didn’t win either-but Tripp’s satisfied expression as he flipped my two original chips between his fingers irritated me, like he was rubbing raw a patch of my skin. Why couldn’t it have been anyone but him?

“What are you going to do with those?” I asked, wondering what I was missing without those triangles.

“Same as anyone. I’m going to buy something with it.”

I realized then that we were like a bunch of magpies hoarding our goods, scavenging from others, and pillaging whatever we could. Some things didn’t change, I thought, with a slow shake of my head. No matter what world you