The vampire looks up to the sky and sighs. “I didn’t know she had the bow. She’s a demigoddess. She can conjure lightning and puppies from thin air if she wants to.”
Shelly sucks her teeth. “Well, conjure up some manners while you’re at it, dear. This is the future Sea King, and he’s got some answering to do.”
“Me?”
Shelly sets her eyes on me. Her palm-sized fairy maidens flit about, tugging on my hair and blowing kisses from the trees. Thalia bats them away, taking a seat beside Marty.
“The last time I saw you,” Shelly says, “You couldn’t regrow your body parts.”
“I can,” Marty says. “Sort of.”
“Look, I’ll get to that later. Right now I need your help,” I say.
“Gah! Always help.” Shelly throws her hands in the air. “Not just popping by to say hello?”
“No,” I stutter. “I mean, I wanted to visit you also, but the championship and all.”
Rachel and Frederik share a smirk at my expense.
“I saw your sister,” I tell Shelly. “The one in the shell that can’t move. I like you way better, just so you know. And those laria are lame compared to your fairy girls.” This makes the fairies sigh and giggle in twinkling chimes.
Shelly tut-tut-tuts and offers me a seat on one of the toadstools. “What is it you need help with?”
I glance at Marty and Fred and Rachel—
“Come now, Tristan. You’ve already achieved a great thing. You have the scepter. You do still have it, don’t you?”
I tap my backpack. “I do.”
“Then?” Shelly gives a no-nonsense headshake.
“Don’t worry about Rachel,” Frederik says. “She’s impulsive and new to our fair city and the Thorne Hill Alliance, but she knows to keep quiet.” Then he sends a look that I’m not sure is meant to scare her or turn her on. “Or else.”
“Uhm. Okay.” I unzip my backpack and bring out the paper I need translated.
As soon as she sees it, Shelly mutters in a strange language. I’m pretty sure it’s all curses. “That bloodied barnacle.”
“So you know each other?”
Shelly purses her lips. It makes the folds of her face pucker.
“Gregorious,” she says his name like an ex-boyfriend. “Always searching and searching. Can’t just write things down without raising too many questions.”
“What is this?” I hold it up. She tries to take it but I pull it away. “I know this is your language. You’re swearing in it right now.”
“The king wanted no record of that prophecy.”
“Why? What does it say?”
“Give it here, son,” she says, trying to take a motherly tone. “No.” I yank it away. “Not until you promise to tell me what it says.”
She crosses her arms and looks away. “My services don’t come for free.”
“We brought something,” Thalia says, offering an apologetic smile.
Shelly’s ears, wherever they are, perk up. “Let me see.”
Thalia takes out the small box of sea-horse eggs and opens it. I know how much she loves the eggs. I can’t thank her enough. They gleam in the moonlight.
“Gah, I’ve no use for eggs that won’t hatch!”
Thalia closes the box, shielding the eggs protectively.
“I have an idea.” Frederik’s voice is like a purr. His eyes glance down at the deck of cards and then at me. “Tristan, can you play?”
I scratch my throat. “Sort of.”
“How about we let Tristan play this hand?” Frederik offers. “Him against all of us. Winner takes all. If Tristan wins, Shelly has to translate his text. Then he will leave and continue his quest.”
“What if Shelly wins?” Thalia asks.
Shelly clears her throat and glances at Marty. He chokes on a fit of laughter and says, “I think Tristan should put up seven minutes in heaven.”
“What if any of us win?” Rachel looks as if she could spit on my shoes. “He’s a bit short for my taste.”
“We’re all playing for Shelly,” Frederick says. “Tristan versus the table.”
“That’s not fair,” I say.
This makes them all smile, even Rachel, who says, “Sounds like you haven’t many options.”
Whatever Greg has in that parchment has to be important. I stretch the fingers of my miracle hand. I set the parchment in the pot, where it shrinks and turns into a glowing neon poker chip along with everything else.
“Temporary charm,” Marty says. “Space saver when a game is in session.”
I smile and cozy into the cushion of my toadstool. Cicadas and fairies whisper their sounds into the night.
And I say, “Deal.”
My buddy Angelo’s dad plays poker.
He has his own table in their basement, along with a full bar and a pool table, a jukebox and a collection of