“That’s the Deal,” I said.

He licked his lips — unconsciously, I thought. “Nothing’s free,” he agreed.

I closed my eyes, waiting for whatever it was going to be. When nothing happened, I opened them again.

Beano was smiling. “Whattaya say you make a dash for the door?”

“Why?” I whispered.

“It’s more fun that way.” He turned and walked purposefully toward the back.

I meant to pay my debts, honorably, without protest. But I couldn’t stand against that last flicker of hope. I bolted for the shop and the front door.

He caught me there, slapped me up against the wall, pinned me to it with a hand around my neck. The fingers of his other hand trailed down the side of my face, traced my jaw, and caressed their way down my throat. “What’s this?” he asked. He lifted Sherrea’s pendant into my field of vision. “Present from your mom?”

I couldn’t breathe past his grip. I couldn’t answer. He twisted the cord around his fist and yanked, and the cord broke. I heard the pendant hit the floor.

He found out, eventually, that I was not like other people. It didn’t seem to trouble him much.

Card 8: Surroundings

The Devil Reversed

Gray: The dawn of spiritual understanding, loosening of the chains of slavery to material things, conquering of self-interest or pride.

Crowley: Renovating intelligence. His magical weapon is the secret force, the lamp. His magical powers are the Evil Eye and the witches’ sabbath. The Child of the Forces of Time. A secret plan about to be executed.

8.0: Where the serpents go to dance

I left Del Corazón on my feet, by the back door. It wasn’t pride; there was no one watching, besides me, and my interest in heroic gestures was at an all-time low. Beano had gone away somewhere, and the building was quiet. No, I would have preferred being taken out on a stretcher, but there was no one to do it. And I really wanted to leave.

It was as if my body were a parcel I was carrying for someone else. It was heavy and hard to hold on to, and worse on both counts with each passing minute. But I was obliged to carry it, I’d get in trouble if I dropped it. I made an honest effort for half the length of the alley, in the dark, holding myself up on the sides of buildings. There was noise from the streets all around — I was close to the Night Fair, after all — but the alley was empty.

I think I tripped over something, but my memory of the evening is blessedly imperfect. I might just have dropped the parcel.

A little later I was lying facedown and having trouble breathing. I don’t think I was in the same place. I turned my head and got more air, laden with the smell of garbage from nearby. I don’t remember any noise; someone must have turned the sound off.