Steven Harper - The Impossible Cube

“I see,” was all she said.

“The third card landed across the House,” Linda continued, seemingly oblivious to Alice’s attitude. “This is why I called you in to talk to you. Charlie told me what the priest said to you, and this card is the Hierophant or Pope. He symbolizes religious leadership, power, and discipline. When one card lands across another, the crossing card is interfering with the card beneath. In this case, we have a religious leader who is interfering with total destruction. And just as these cards landed on the floor, Charlie told me what your priest said.”

“That flood and plague will destroy us all if I fail,” Alice murmured.

“No.” Gavin put his hand on her shoulder. “He said flood and plague will destroy us all if I fail. He said that I can cure the world, but you have to let go.”

“Let what go?” Alice growled. She held up her spider hand. “This? I wish I could.”

“He said that you have to let him go,” Charlie said gently.

Alice rounded on him. “How do you know that?”

“I believe I already explained that. And the fact that I do know lends credence to what Adames said,” Charlie replied. “Gavin can cure the world, but only if you let him go. Otherwise the world will perish in flood and plague.”

“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 holding you. I’m not forcing you or chaining you. Am I?”

“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.”

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.”

“Now where?” Feng asked in a subdued voice.

“It doesn’t really matter,” Alice replied, and tried to make herself sound more cheerful. “You know, it’s rather nice to walk about and not worry about being followed by Phipps.”

“Phipps, no,” Gavin fretted, “but Kievite clockworkers are another story. Remember what Harry said-they can take anyone they like off the streets after dark. Every time I play, it draws attention.”

“That’s the entire point,” Alice said, trying not to show she was uneasy, too. “How will people find out the ‘angels’ are in town if they don’t hear your music in the dark? Besides, you’re armed.”

“Hm.” Gavin touched the glass cutlass at his belt and fingered the heavy, brass-adorned bands that encircled both his forearms.

Feng checked the pair of pistols at his own belt, a hard look on his handsome face. “We do not know for sure that Phipps has failed to follow. She will eventually notice that we twice appeared in the same city as the circus.”