“Well then, if you got nothing further to add, why don’t you go ahead and play your next card, Buddy,” said Boss Authority. “Play the card that comes natural to this story, the only conclusion that’s fair for the old Fish Boy, play the card of justice.”

I flipped it over then. She stood cruel and menacing, three eyes on her head, one dead center, clad in ghastly crimson, a long black mark burned through her. The Red Bride, the revenge card. Boss Authority tipped his head backward and let out a cackle.

“There she is, Buddy,” he said. “There’s my justice. There’s the recompense for all the misery your pop put me through.”

And I guessed Pop deserved it, he did. There was nothing in me that could defend what Pop had done, not to Bobby Felix, not to Mom, not to me. Pop was a scoundrel, through and through, this man I had so admired, my own hero, same as he had been Bobby Felix’s.

“You know what card comes next, don’t you?” said Boss Authority. “You know what card I’m going to turn and play against you. It’s the Red Bride, same as what you played against me. It’s the revenge card, it is. It’s justice for the way your daddy’s treated you and your mom. It’s your revenge on all he’s put you through, all the pain and loneliness, the way you had to leave your swamp home, for shutting y’all up in that awful village. It’s what he deserves. So take this card and play it against your pop. Tell him just exactly how it is you feel. Tell him how much you hate his guts, how you’re gonna smile while I drain him dry. You Orate it well enough, it might even save your life. I might even let your own blood stay right where it is, in your veins. I might not even squash that little spider-girl you made friends with. I might let her go free. How about it, Buddy? How will you tell the Red Bride what your pop has done?”

Boss Authority flipped the top card on his deck, that clockwork hand grinding, metal on metal, and laid it faceup on the table.

But no, it wasn’t the Red Bride, not one bit. It was the Banquet Table. A long wooden table stuffed with food, folks lounging all around, laughing, breaking bread together. It was the table of friendship, of forgiveness. That’s the card Boss laid down, not the Red Bride.

You should have seen his face. You should have seen that white swirly eye nearly pop right out of his skull.

“No,” he said. “That ain’t right. The Red Bride was next. I could feel her.” He turned to Drusilla Fey. “What’s happening here? What went wrong?”

Marina glared at him, her face stern as stone.

“That’s the card you turned, Bobby,” she said. “That’s the card you got to play.”

I looked over at my pop, huddling on the floor, moaning like a kicked dog. Boss Authority was right, I was awful mad at him. I was ashamed of him. The pain I felt in my guts was deep, and it had changed everything for me, probably forever. But I also realized something else, right there in that moment, watching him curled up on the floor crying.