Page 63 of Death Card

Gran was a tough woman with high expectations. Sabine knew what it was like to let her down, and she suffered for it. Gran isn’t even here anymore, and I’m still terrified of disappointing her.

The idea of becoming Witch Queen has settled in my gut these past couple weeks. It doesn’t make my stomach roil and bubble as much as the night Gramps announced my ascension. Even though I may not live to ascend, I can still spend the time I have left helping my people.

I’ll be eighteen in a couple of days. I’m growing into a woman Gran will never meet. I have to live my life on my own terms, not Gran’s. Although her voice still lingers in the back of my mind, I’m going to put my own desires first from now on. Meeting Sabine will be a solid step toward preventing more deaths, even if it flies in the face of everything Gran would want.

We pull into the parking lot of Gator Pride Swamp Tours and park near the back, away from the other cars. We grab our bags from the back seat—without coordinating, we both packed as if we’d be staying in the bayou for a few days. Like brother, like sister.

I peek inside my bag: water bottles, snacks, bug spray, sunscreen. I pull up my sleeves and spray my arms, legs, and neck before handing the can of bug spray to Orion.

He shakes his head. “The smell gives me a headache.”

“Trust me,” I say, prying his hand open and placing the can on his palm. “You’ll thank me later when you’re not dying of West Nile.”

Once we’re sufficiently covered and you can smell us from a mile away, I follow Orion up to the building and the rickety wooden dock. A tall, lanky white guy stands on the dock next to a small airboat. He’s wearing camo pants and a tan buttoned shirt with the company logo on the breast. A flicker of recognition causes me to stumble over a loose board. It’s the same guy from the night Gramps announced my ascension—the one standing beneath the streetlight, whom Orion disappeared with. There is clearly more to their relationship than my brother’s letting on.

Pontoon boats are tied up on either side of the dock. An older man with a beard stands on the deck of one of them. He throws up his hand in a wave. The movement gets the attention of the younger guy, Andrew.

“Orion,” Andrew says in greeting, slapping palms with my brother. “It’s been a long time,” he says with a wink.

“Yeah, two whole weeks. An eternity.” Orion points to the airboat. “Is it still all right for you to take us out?”

“Oh, yeah.” He holds up a clipboard. “I was finishing up final checks. I’ll run you down there real quick and then come pick up my private tour.”

Andrew helps us onto the airboat and takes a seat at the back near the giant fan. The steady rocking of the boat gives me a queasy feeling in my stomach. I glance over at my brother, but he and Andrew have their heads bent together, exchanging quiet words.

While he’s distracted, I study Andrew’s face, trying to place him. He looks like a standard white boy. I’m not sure whether he went to our school. I don’t know anything about this guy, but if he’s willing to do a favor like this, then he must be a good person. Orion’s dated so many guys throughout the years, and none of them stick around. He acts like he prefers it that way, but he’s got a brick wall up, so I can never tell if that’s the truth. I hope Andrew will be different.

Once we push away from the dock and Andrew starts the motor, all sound is blocked out by the whirring of the fan. We speed away from Gator Pride and into the bayou.

Orion’s relaxed, taking in the passing trees, but I am anywhere but in my element. The smell of the musty water fills my nostrils, nearly sending the contents of my stomach up my throat. As we stray farther from civilization, more wildlife appears. Herons and pelicans search for fish, and gators sun themselves on banks and atop fallen trees.

I can’t help but study my brother and observe the way his eyeslight up every time he spots a wild creature. He always was a big fan of the zoo, and this is like an exhibit on steroids. He’s too cool now to admit it, but he’s got a soft spot for animals.

Andrew shuts off the motor as we approach what appears to be a settlement. At least five houses are perched on stilts along the shore. A dock even more precarious than the one we just left extends out into the muddy water. These houses look like they’ve weathered hundreds of years. Actually, I can hardly call them houses—more like shacks with patchy roofs, some with shuttered windows.

Orion finally peers over at me. He visibly gulps down his apprehension. “I guess this is it.”

“Y’all sure about this?” Andrew asks. “ ’Cause if you run into trouble, there ain’t no cell service out this deep, and I won’t be able to come get you for a couple of hours.”

We are the dumbest people alive. This could literally be the beginning of a horror film where a pack of cannibals tortures us and eats us.

“Ri—”

“We can go back,” Orion rushes to say. “We’ll find information somewhere else.”

“But where? We know no one else.”

Despite being cast out, Sabine is our blood. She’s our cousin and was once a member of our coven. If we never do the things that scare us, we’ll never truly live. That’s a truth I’m beginning to understand.

“We’re going.” I’m looking at my brother when I say it, but Andrew’s the one who nods.

“All righty.” He pulls up to the dock alongside a rusty old airboat that’s seen better days. “I’ll be back soon. Try not to get yourselves killed.” His gaze is trained on Orion when he utters the last part.

Orion nods and grips my wrist, dragging me down the dock. Behind us, the airboat roars to life and swiftly fades away as our only link to civilization leaves.

“Do you know which place is hers?” I whisper, aware of the eyes peering down at us from doorways and windows. Suspicious faces abound in a multitude of shades. I wasn’t expecting such diversity out here in the bayou, but I suppose there isn’t one single type of person who chooses to live on the outskirts of society. “Do you think somebody will give us directions?”

We step onto the marsh; the soil is squishy beneath my sneaker soles. A worn path splits off in both directions, leading up to the shacks. Orion nudges me. “We don’t need to ask,” he says. “Looks like she saw us coming.”