The Fortune Tellers

She shuffled the cards nervously.

Technically, she wasn't supposed to. Only the questioner should touch them. She knew that; she'd been telling fortunes for a very long time. She'd been told she had more than a touch of gift, whatever that was supposed to mean. Her mother had some of it, her granny had it in double spades, ha ha. They'd always told her the object you use isn't important, just what you saw, and how you gave that information.

The cards were coming up all the same now, and she didn't even need one of those fancy decks with extra cards to tell her future. She knew this was the end.

She had sent her family away from the town long already. They were safe from the inevitable.

But her life, on the other hand, was ticking away as surely as the cards slipped beneath her fingers. She knew better than to pull one out - it would be the same card, no matter how much she shuffled. The ace of spades, with the point of that eponymous shape always aimed at her heart. The tip looked sharper and sharper the more she stared at it. Did shuffling hone it?

She shuddered.

The Queen had banned fortune telling ages ago, along with the laws on beautification. No more padding your bodice or bum to look more shapely, or rouge for lips or cheeks to trap a spouse! And no fortune telling, to gull the foolish into manipulation. To be caught was to be immediately arrested. And killed, of course, after torture.

That's not how the gift works, lady, she thought angrily.

Sure, little huswife, go ahead and tell that to the Queen, I dare you. She only thought the words, didn't even dare whisper them out loud.

Well, tonight would be an interesting way to get a Queen's attention. She wondered how it would play out.

Immediately her hand twitched, and frayed pasteboard edges clipped each other instead of gliding smoothly. A card flipped out of the deck. She stared.

Queen of diamonds. Interesting. That implied that tonight would change her, on her far-off throne, but in a way that would bring about her personal downfall, not that of her kingdom.

She thoughtfully tucked the card back into the deck.

The room was dark in the ever-lengthening gloom. No reason to keep a roaring fire overnight; the tavern's common room was shut. The curfew hour bell had rung long ago, to hurry tardy steps towards what shelter they could find. The only ones on the street now were the night watch, in pairs, looking for stragglers and lawbreakers. Or those rich enough to flout the laws, with coin purses dangling from louvered carriages. She once knew a daring pair of thieves, who dressed up as night watchmen to collect those tempting bribe bags. She'd warned them, but both bodies now hung on Cutthroat Hill.

Sometimes she'd visit them, swaying in the wind. Sometimes to curse them out, sometimes to weep and beg forgiveness. The one on the left was her youngest son. Convinced of his own immortality, never mind that the gift also ran in his veins. Spurned what the cards revealed, sneered at his mother's begging. Shiny gold was so much more enthralling than ink on old pasteboard. Neither could help him now.

At least his siblings were long gone. Out of reach. Some of that stolen gold traveled with them, along with the price of the tavern she sat within. She'd sold it a week ago. The new owner was upstairs deciding which rooms to keep, which to let. The keys were his, and the lawyer had copies of the proper documents. The guards would not claim this building in the name of the Crown, for the heretic no longer owned it. She'd slept alone in the common room since they left, without even a room or a change of clothing to her name. Which also no longer mattered.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

She wondered who had ratted her out. Another hand twitch, and the three of clubs lay in front of her. Ah, that made sense. The mother of the other thief who swung aside her own son, wanting revenge on her.

She wondered if it would be worth it, come morning.

There was a knock at the door.

She lay down the cards, patting them absently as she went to open it. "Come in, Inspector," she said to the dark shape looming there.

He was an arrogant piece of donkey dung. Did he just strike an impressive pose? "So, you know me, do you?"

"Please. Who else knocks on a front door after curfew? And expects to be let in willingly? Without suspicion? To be asked to tell a fortune for which you promise exorbitant amounts of money, to allay my fears? I was not born yesterday, Inspector, do not insult me."

"You speak eloquently for a tavern huswife."

"You know nothing of my past, neither my education. Nor will I tell you anything, because I know your kind. You would immediately sent out horseback couriers to arrest anyone with the faintest of connection to me, just to fatten your retirement on their pain and confiscation. Wrong bait, wrong hook, my dear."

He snarled, and his hand dropped to his highly ornamented sword. She merely raised an eyebrow and stared at him.

He growled, and stepped into the room, slamming the door behind him. At the last second, a gust of wind blew in with a spatter of rain - and billowed his thin cloak, and flapped it over his head. She eased back to her chair and he flailed around trying to regain both sight and composure - and failed at both.

He finally joined her at the table when his gear was mostly sorted. The autumn storm gained momentum outside as it rattled the shutters, howled down the alleys, rumbled its intentions from cloud to cloud. Occasionally it would spit debris against the walls and door. The guards that ringed the building would be miserable once the storm truly broke open.

She didn't realize she'd picked up the deck again and was shuffling it. He stared at her in the soft lamplight, and snorted. "Aren't I supposed to be doing that?" he jeered, nodding at the cards.

Again she raised an eyebrow. "If that's what you've come to expect, then you've killed a great many innocent people," she said softly.

That surprised him. He sat back a little, then squinted at her, at the room. "Wait. Where's the shawls, the lanterns, the orb? The hat?"

"Really? If one needs to dress up for atmosphere, Inspector, then perhaps you did get some of the charlatans after all. Anyone who feels the need to deceive by donning a costume and speaking in an eerie voice, look to your wallet. If it's for show, it's not for real."

"And you... are? Real?"

"Oh come on. Look at it this way: many things are illegal, but people do them anyway. And people get away with them. Only the fortune tellers are rounded up and slaughtered without so much as a cursory trial. Of course it's illegal to fleece the fools, but this? This is what you spend all your time chasing? This isn't justice, Inspector, it's an extermination. Why has it never occurred to you, that if the fortune teller is real, they won't get caught?"

His face was a mixture of annoyance and growing realization, and she shook her head in disgust. The movement in the circle of lamplight drew his eyes to hers, and the look shifted into one of anger and suspicion. "Well, then, why are you here?" he challenged.

"Because someone had to tell you what an idiot you are. This lunacy has got to stop. The rapists and murderers already know you no longer care about their habits, and are running rampant. Money lenders are raising rates, no longer caring about penalties. Thieves have been stealing goods for months, liquidating them, and leaving town. The skimmers as well. And yet, as this town leans into the abyss of lawlessness and the poor cry out for ease, you concentrate all the harder on us? Really? This isn't justice, Inspector, this is personal. Either you, or your boss. You bring the whole town guard to surround one tavern like I'm the head of some evil coven. You have gone completely insane. Where were you when the Vacha family were murdered in their beds? Or the South Street muggings? What about when Old Man Kelse's entire fortune was wiped out? Or the gambling den on Griffon Lane beggared the whole East End? You were out eradicating my kind. What kind of monster have you become?"

Her impassioned speech met blank eyes that blinked at her vehemence. Thunder rumbled, much closer than before.

She snorted again. He didn't respond, and she had failed to get through to him. So be it. She stopped shuffling. "Fine. Be an idiot. Let's see what our fortune is."

Wind banged harshly at the closed shutter. Neither reacted.

She flipped the top card over. "Seven of diamonds. So you're the one with the problem, not your sniveling boss that hides in his bloated mansion. You hate us, personally and specifically. Why?"

The next card she placed with precision on the first. "Queen of Spades. Your mother. You loved her, and she loathed your existence. Tortured you as a child, set your siblings against you, and you couldn't fight back. She built them up for success in various trades and schools, but by the time it was your turn, she claimed there was no money. Kept reading tea leaves at you, saying you were worthless and should just die and get it over with. She'd entertain other high-class ladies with her readings, mocking you and your talents."

His breathing was harsh. Lightning flickered through the louvers, closely followed by deafening thunder.

Another card was flipped over and landed. "King of hearts. Your hero. The local constable. Your father was long gone, gods know where, so he took you under wing. Taught you the law, and policing, and right from wrong. You pledged to follow in his footsteps, and did so when he retired. You grieved when he died, and were surprised to be named in his will."

Another card landed with a snap. "Ah. Three of diamonds. And you got nothing, because his wife spent it all on fortune tellers before he was cold in the ground. And you were angry, and took her to court, and won, but it was for nothing. There was nothing left to recover, she had spent it all. Even the house was sold for her foolishness. Their children were just as angry, and just as helpless. You were evicted because she trusted con artists more than she trusted her own kids."

His breathing was harsher, and the lightning and thunder were even stronger. The wind slammed something into the shutters, and it hit with a smacking thump.

Another card. "Ace of diamonds. You chose to take care of the children she could not, at great expense. You took the constable job, fed them, housed them, sent them off to careers and lives. Children that were not yours, but you cared for them out of a sense of duty to the father that loved them. Not the mother; she was addicted to selling all she could get her hands on just to listen to the lies and promises. Lies that never materialized, of hidden fortunes and secret caches. You had to kick her out, and her children resented you for it, even though they knew you were correct in doing so. It was cold comfort when they took your generosity and left you behind. They liked their new lives and families, and ignored you. With scant thanks, you left for a higher ranking in the guards, and traveled to this much larger town."

"Enough." His voice was harsh and guttural.

She set the rest of the deck on the table. "That is real power, Inspector. The power to lay your soul bare, and show your madness plain for what it is. You didn't get revenge on the ones that surely deserved it for their neglect, but you made others your scapegoats for your own feelings. You persecuted old ladies who make a few coins to help their families instead of going after the charlatans who convince the gullible. If you had only asked us! We hate them too! Monsters like that make the rest of us look bad and make our lives difficult. We would have gleefully helped you find them and bring them to justice. Instead, you killed us by the dozens. Vilified us. Tortured us. And you still didn't get the right one. I'll give you this one for free, without the cards: he fled your reach late at night, with all of his ill-gotten gains, and tripped and fell in a ravine. He's still there, with all the coin he stole. Had you asked, instead of becoming as monstrous a human, your life would have altered beyond the scope of the cards."

Thunder cracked nearby. A patter of something smacked against the door. His hands were curled into fists, and he didn't notice a single tear had leaked from narrowed eyes.

She shook her head. "All for nothing, Inspector. The real fortune tellers have left the town and will continue to hide beyond your reach. The people you should be pursuing have taken over the town. All the good people that have the means have left, and only the poor who have nowhere to go remain. How long till you, and that toad, realize you rule over a town that's dying? When will the far-off Queen realize the town's rot, and eliminate all of you in power?"

Lightning flared, and thunder cracked overhead.

His barked a short laugh. "Well, you will die too, so maybe not such a waste after all."

"I chose to die, Inspector. You, on the other hand, will also die, and all that armor you wear so proudly will not help you. You, the toad, the town. I've gotten an many as I could out to safety. My family left long already, and is well hidden. I myself own nothing anymore. I sold this tavern, the lawyers have the paperwork."

He moved fast to smack her, but she was already moving out of the way. He snarled.

Her hand touched the pack as she pushed backwards, and it scattered some cards. One landed face up. The jack of diamonds.

She looked at it, and her eyes widened. "No! Impossible! What-"

A door behind her rattled, and the Inspector jumped up, knife in hand. She groaned and buried her head in her hands.

A cheerful face she knew all too well poked inside the door. "Fair maiden, I've come to rescue you!" He bounced into the room, heedless of the danger represented by the looming bulk in a cloak. He slowed, stared at her, as she silently cried on her cards.

The Inspector had backed up towards the door to give himself room to fight. Studied the tableau. "This was not in your plan?"

She sighed, then stood up, tears still streaming. She walked over to her alleged rescuer - and belted him across the face. Lightning flared as the blow hit, and the crack was lost in the immediate thunder.

He touched his cheek, stunned. "Mmm.. ow.. Milady?"

"Jack, you complete and total fool. All you've done is doomed yourself. Inspector, this is Jack, my lover. And father of my two youngest. My husband is long dead, don't look at me like that. I sent him out of the town with my family to keep them safe, and this jackass decides to come back to 'save' me." She glared at him. "Now all you will do is die with me tonight."

"What? No! We can take him!"

"Have you gone mad? He's brought the entire guard with him. They have the building surrounded, and will be summoned as soon as the Inspector is done toying with me. I had to try to get him to see sense to save the rest of the town, but I failed."

An echo of that dimpled grin returned, the one that had endeared her to him, so many years ago. "Well, of course, that's why I brought backup! We didn't leave, we're here with weapons to help!"

Even in the candlelight, both men could see the color drain out of her. She sat, heavily, on the chair. Lightning stabbed the sky, repeatedly.

She just stared at him. "How could you do this to me?" she whispered. "My children? Our family? Your friends? There was a reason I wanted everyone out! My gods, you have doomed us all. I had wanted to leave a legacy, at least. I could face my fate, knowing my children would live. And now, all you've left me with is ashes." She shook her head. "How could you betray me like this?"

"But I-"

The Inspector decided he'd had enough. He didn't like being ignored. "I'm arresting you both. You for fortune telling, you for willingly consorting with same." He knocked on the door, and it opened, and guards filed in. "Take them to the jail."

She finally looked at him, the guards. Looked at their faces. "So young. So stupid. You're all idiots."

One limp hand flopped onto the table as her eyes stared unseeing at the complete hopelessness of her new situation. She didn't see that the ink was so black it looked like a hole into an abyss. It drew the eyes of everyone else in the room.

The ace of spades.

She grabbed some cards and threw them at the inspector, like a kitten hissing at a slavering wolf.

Coward that he was, he roared and fell back into the guards. They scrambled to do his bidding and catch him at the same time.

The storm broke.

Continuous lightning rained down, with clap upon clap of thunder making it impossible to yell. Buildings exploded, fires erupted, screams were lost in the continuous assault.

Hail the size of fists dropped like ballista.

If the guards outside tried to run, or organize, or do anything but die, they didn't get the chance. There was water mixed in with the death raining on the town, and their armor was made of bronze. Bronze contains much copper. Copper is an electrical conduit, though none of them would have had those words to explain the way the lightning seemed to seek them out and stab them repeatedly.

Jack tried to draw her back, but she sat there shaking her head in complete despair. He reached for her again, and lightning hit the roof above them. A fireball erupted, and the ceiling fell into the room.

Above them, on the hill, the mansion burned.

The town burned.

By morning, it was a heap of ash and mud in the rain.

No one was left alive to mourn.

And the bodies swung in the air on Cutthroat Hill.

Part 2: https://vocal.media/fiction/the-fortune-tellers-li6a0x4u

Part 3: https://vocal.media/fiction/the-fortune-tellers-55fb0yri