“Actually, mister,” said Tally, “we come to play.”

She whispered to me, “Show him the cards.”

I took Pop’s cards out of the knapsack and dropped them on the desk.

The concierge stopped his writing for a second. He picked up the cards and unwrapped them carefully. He shuffled them back and forth a few times so fast it looked like he was playing an accordion, same as how I’d seen Pop do it. He flipped over Bright Candle Burning and dragged a long hooked fingernail across it.

Then he sniffed his finger.

His face brightened immediately, and he smiled so big I thought his cheeks would split. He had a heck of a gleaming row of teeth, this concierge sure did.

“Well why didn’t you say so?” He handed the cards back to me. “And you are?”

“I’m Tally,” she said, “and this here’s Buddy. He’ll be the one actually playing the game.”

“Buddy and Tally,” said the concierge, scribbling in his notebook. “There are currently no duelists seeking challenge,” he said, “but you are welcome to wait in the fourth-floor lounge until one should arrive. Though, as according to house rules, if you are challenged, you must of course accept. Until then, you may have use of the facilities.” The concierge looked me up and down then, from my mud-splattered boots to my ripped shirt. He cocked a cold eye at me. “I need not tell you to mind yourselves, do I?”

That made me right mad, it did. Just because a fella’s had a hard time don’t mean he can’t conduct himself like a good and proper gentleman. I was about to tell this concierge to learn himself some manners good and quick before he wound up with a split lip and an aching noggin, but Tally cut me off before I could get started.

“Rest assured,” said Tally, “you don’t need to tell us a durn thing.”

“What’s behind that door?” I said, pointing toward the vault.

“Nothing that you shall ever see,” he said.

“Well you ain’t got to be rude about it,” I said. “I got an inquiring mind. My mom says that’s a noble faculty.”

“Perhaps it is,” said the concierge, “in little schoolchildren who need their diapers changed.”

I said, “Now hold up a minute—”

“If I consent to let you into this establishment,” said the concierge, “then you consent to act like a grown-up. Not some ankle-biting snot-nosed little roughneck who belongs in a boys’ home for delinquents.”

“Thank you,” said Tally. “We’ll behave, and treat this house with due respect.”

“Very well,” said the concierge. He turned to me. “You’re lucky to have her, you know that, boy?”

I tell you, I was about to say a few words to wipe that smirk right off his face. Tally pinched my arm. Hard. I almost yipped right there in the lobby.

“He knows it,” said Tally. “Thank you kindly.”

The concierge gestured to the door on the right. It opened by itself to reveal a long, twisty staircase that wove around the whole head, a red carpet laid down, doors every so often, like a hotel. We made our way out of the lobby and up the staircase. The door slammed shut behind us. I was cooling down about then. Man, if Tally hadn’t been there I probably would have mouthed off and got us tossed right out of this place. I might have messed everything up, same as me and my no-good hexed-blood luck always did.