Chapter 17
Dear me/ journal/ god.
Today I ninja argued my way into getting Loch Ness to eat her broccoli so she wouldn’t die of scurvy and I wouldn’t be assigned cleanup duty.
She’s so stubborn.
I can’t believe I’m going to have to do her math homework every week for the rest of my life just so she won’t lose her teeth. She’s really vain. If she lost even one tooth I would never hear the end of it and I swear she would find a way to blame it on me.
I ran the comb through my damp hair again before whipping my head forward and back to give it volume. Not the most efficient way to do it, but I couldn’t ruffle the roots without aggravating the cuts on my palms.
Yes, he may have had a point about the gauze.
No, I wasn’t going to admit it to him now.
My heart was squirming, skipping, fluttering restlessly as I continued to fuss with myself.
First my hair, then my makeup, then the massive sleeves of Dominic’s borrowed sweater—rolling them up, tugging them down.
One up, one down. Rolling inward. Rolling outward.
Fussing and fussing and continuing to fuss until I’d been in his en suite long enough to draw suspicion.
It was surprising that he hadn’t checked on me. Maybe he’d realized how fucked-up things could potentially get and was hoping I’d climbed out of the window.
I closed my purse, eyeing said window again, tempted.
The wind had picked up enough to sway tree trunks and bend their branches, spitting rain against the glass like plastic pellets.
And just as my mind started to delude itself into believing that it would be worth it and that tying a bunch of towels together wouldn’t immediately lead to a broken neck, the entire sky flashed a blinding white.
BOOM.
I jumped, gripping the counter behind me as the bathroom lights flickered.
Then went out.
The base of my palm pressed to my chest, massaging to calm the jolt of adrenaline pumping through my heart. Holy shit, that was loud.
“Alice?”
I blinked in the direction of the door, trying to make out a line or an edge in the darkness. “Yeah?”
“You o—” He cut himself off. “The power went out.”
“I’m aware,” I said dryly, tracing my fingers along the counter as I carefully made my way toward his voice. “Please tell me you have a backup generator or something.”
My phone was still dead, and my clothes were currently gathered in a soaked bundle in Dom’s bathtub, waiting to be put in the dryer.
“I do,” he said as I stuck out my hands, feeling around for solid wood.
“Great. When’s that supposed to kick in?” I found the handle and twisted it open with the tips of my least cut-up fingers just as he answered, “According to the guy who set it up, about twenty seconds ago.”
Perfect.
At least he had his phone. I squinted against the bright white light before it was lowered, slipping past him. “Candles? An extra flashlight?”
“They’re either still in storage or boxed up in the basement.” He aimed the stream of white light at his desk, reaching for something. The fireplace flared on a second later, casting a soft, warm light into the room.
“That’s the best I can do,” he said, tossing his phone on the couch before taking a seat. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
I tugged up the massive soccer shorts he’d lent me, refastening the hair clip I’d clamped around the gathered extra fabric in the back.
Then I sat down, facing him with one arm pressed to the cushioned backrest. He’d changed into a dark tee and black cashmere sweats, his damp hair curling over his forehead.
I peeled my gaze away as he shuffled the deck of cards, willing the fluttering behind my breastbone to calm down. Otherwise, it was going to be impossible for me to actually think.
“Remind me of the sin designations again,” I said, “Diamonds are greed, and they deal in numbers. Clubs are gluttony—”
“Wrath,” he corrected. “Clubs are wrath, and they deal in turns. Spades are gluttony and deal in measurements.”
“Right.”
He cut the deck into four sections, placing them on the large leather cushion between us. “And hearts trade in time.”
The butterflies took flight again, and I refrained from meeting Dom’s gaze as I regathered the piles in the order of my choosing.
“Court cards don’t have an assigned numerical value.
They deal in consequences, and the repercussions of their actions carry through the whole game,” he went on.
“As for the assigned delegates, jacks are at the bottom of the pecking order, thus plagued with envy, queens have too much pride, and kings are spoiled, indulgent sloths. Aces clear your conscience, and jokers are the devil in disguise. Playing one triggers karmic payment from your opponent for the sins they’ve committed against you.
Black joker oversees gluttony and wrath; red joker is greed and lust. Did I miss anything? ”
“No, but gluttony is gonna be a pain in the ass unless we do this in the kitchen.” But then we’d have no light.
“I thought about that,” he said, and I couldn’t tell if it was in my head or if he was also doing his best to avoid eye contact. “One option would be to take it out entirely. Another would be to turn this into a drinking game.”
No.
Absolutely not.
Whatever you do, do NOT bring alcohol into this mess.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s not,” he agreed, meeting my gaze. We stared at each other, waiting to see if the other person would veto it. I opened my mouth to do it but hesitated when I saw the crystal bottle of amber liquid he’d brought out for the occasion.
It was sitting on the desk behind him, along with a number of other items, half of which I couldn’t make out from this distance, given the limited lighting.
“You took too long in the bathroom,” he noted when I raised my brows. “I got bored and prepped.”
Say no.
Say no say no say no.
“What happens if you pull a ten of spades, then? I’ll die if I drink that many ounces of bourbon in one go.”
“Which is exactly why we shouldn’t do it.”
I sank an inch deeper into the couch. “What if we made them the exception? Let’s just say their whole court is too drunk to care about following a coherent set of rules, so their assigned numerical value means nothing.
None of their royals are interested in leaving the party long enough to become delegates, so they’ve bowed out of the running for the night. ”
“Yeah, but if the joker is played and you’ve already made your opponent take five, six shots…” He trailed off when I shook my head, giving me space to explain.
“If they have no delegates in the greater court for this session, he wouldn’t have eyes on them. All spades get tossed into a separate discard pile that can’t be triggered again—not even during a full karmic reset.”
“What about their ace? Can’t clear a conscience you don’t have.”
I drummed my fingers over my knee. I’d forgotten we’d limited the aces to their own suit.
“We could make it the one holy card in the deck. Like a get-out-of-jail-free card type, where if you’re lucky enough to have it in your hand when the joker is played against you, you can use it to get away scot-free. ”
He considered it. “But the chances of one person pulling both jokers and the ace aren’t that low, given the limited number of players.”
Right. And that would render the ace mostly useless anyway.
I’d forgotten how engaging and fun this was—working out the little kinks in our games with him, honing them until they were fully playable. My brain was buzzing with the challenge, spinning off in five different directions in search of a working solution.
“Okay, so what if it were an Uno reverse type instead? The card of instant karma that redirects whatever consequences you’re about to face back to your opponent.
Jokers are immune, because the devil’s already damned, but it can be played in any other scenario.
” I inched closer, a distantly familiar sensation tickling up my chest. “The stakes would be higher, and you’d have to strategize on a deeper level and think twice about what you’re asking of your opponent in case it comes back to bite you. ”
Dom’s lips did a little wobble like they used to when we were kids and he was trying to hide his excitement. My heart expanded at the sudden flash of memories, my own mouth fighting to remain flat.
“That’ll work,” he said, rubbing at his chin in another failed attempt at disguising his incoming smile. “Anything else you can think of?”
“Nope.” I cut the deck again. “Highest draw goes first. Lowest deals for delegates with the option of rejecting their opponents’ first.”
He drew a three of spades.
I lucked out with a six of hearts.
He reshuffled, then started flipping cards in front of me until he hit the first eligible court card.
“Spoiled, slothy nepo baby stuffed with greed,” Dom teased as I placed my new delegate, the king of diamonds, in the designated spot on my left. “A little too on the nose as a rep, but I’ll allow it.”
For once, though, his tone didn’t carry the sharp edge of accusation. He sounded like he was joking. At least to some degree.
“And his lowly, envious, greedy little attendant,” I crooned when the jack of diamonds popped up for him. “How does it feel, seeing the essence of your soul so accurately represented?”
He swallowed another smile as he dealt my hand, forcing me to do the same as I dealt his.
Soon, we became so immersed in studying our ten cards and designing our individual strategies that neither of us said a word for several minutes.
“Ready when you are,” he eventually announced, getting up to grab the bottle of whiskey and everything else he’d prepped. They were all deposited on the floor beside us for ease of access while I finalized my decisions.
“Four of gluttony.” I placed the card down. “The start of the court session is a little drab for my king’s liking. He suggests we liven things up a bit. Drink.”