Jack Thompson's Arc

Chapter 21 of 25

Jack stood in the broken storefront, breathing hard. The black flame on his leg curled but held him up. The cul-de-sac behind him had stopped spinning. The stones had locked into a giant roulette wheel, red and black wedges frozen around a brass spindle. On the double zero, two cards lay crossed like a calling card. An ace of spades. A jack of hearts. Blackjack had left a note. Jack looked back down at the unconscious boy. One's chest rose and fell in shallow pulls. Near his open hand sat a flip lighter, lion's face stamped into the steel. Blackjack had not bothered with it. Jack stared at it a long second. Pick it up. Leave it. Pick him up. End him. His hand would not move. Air cracked beside him. Eight stepped out of nothing, black suit, blank mask, sword across their back. Jack swung the shotgun up on instinct. Eight raised one gloved hand, palm flat. "Thank you," Eight said. "For sparing me. The shot only killed the collar. I worked it out after." They knelt by One and slid an arm under his shoulders. "I'll take him somewhere they can't reach." Jack lowered the barrel an inch. "Why tell me?" "Because you should know what's waiting." Eight lifted One like he weighed nothing. "Dr. Owl knows 13 is hunting him. He's set a trap. If your partner walks in alone, he doesn't walk out." Eight paused at the broken frame. "That's the debt paid. Do what you want with it." Then they were gone, air folding shut behind them. Jack stood alone in the glass. The lighter still lay where One had been. He bent and picked it up, thumb on the lion's mane. Behind him the frozen wheel waited, two cards smiling at the center. The bridge inside him hummed, open both ways. He had a name, a trap, and a partner walking toward it. Jack pocketed the lighter and started moving.