the sea oracles. I take a deep breath and remove any traces of a

smile. People playing poker never seem to smile.

Thalia watches with the utmost curiosity, flicking fairies like

marbles every time they try to sit on her shoulders.

Marty shuffles the deck of cards. He holds them out to Thalia, who

blows on them. Each person’s hand is dealt. I’m fighting the urge to

look at everyone right away. I want to read their faces. The problem

is that I can’t sniff out their emotions like regular humans.

Frederik, as always, is steel-faced and apathetic. Rachel has a very

pretty red smile going on, and the folds of Shelly’s face are

distracting.

I finally peek at mine, and my mind flashes to the arrow driving

through my palm so I wince. Ace and king of spades. My hand feels

better than ever.

I realize Frederik can probably hear my heartbeat, so I try to get

it down.

Shelly waves her fingers and a golden chip appears, representing

her promise to me and calling my bet.

For the most part, I keep my eyes on the cards and the glowing

chips on the table. When Angelo’s dad bluffs, he shrugs his shoulders

and sighs a whole lot. Even though his friends play with him all the

time, they always fall for it.

Rachel calls it by throwing in a tiny knife the size of my index

finger, and the knife shrinks into a chip as red as her hair. Fred

throws in a tiny jar containing a small flower. It becomes a pink

chip.

Marty reveals the flop. Jack of spades, ten of hearts, and three

of diamonds.

Fred groans and throws his cards into the muck pile, folding.

Another burned card. Then the turn-ten of spades.

Burn. Then the river, right in the middle. The queen of spades.

I can’t show them how freaked out I am, so I reach in my pocket

and bring out the Venus pearl. “Raise.”

This is the first time I’ve ever heard Frederik gasp. I didn’t peg

him for a jewelry kind of guy. He gets up and stomps around in

circles.

“Call,” Rachel smirks. She pulls a ring with a sparkling black

diamond from thin air. It flips into a silver chip and gets added to

the pot.

Shelly holds her palm out and produces a red stone. She weighs it

in her hand and hesitates, like she’s not willing to part with it. But

she has to call or fold.

She throws the stone in the pot, pursing her lips ever so

slightly.

The silence of the forest is incredibly loud-every chirping bird,

rustling squirrel, and all the other creatures that must be lurking

are soundless.

Rachel growls from deep in her throat, like a roll of thunder. She

reveals a straight-Q-J-10-9-8.

Then Shelly, jiggling on her toadstool. Her smile is as wide as a

slice of the moon. “After you’ve lived a few decades, you learn your

way around the table.”

The smack of her cards is a loud snap. For an ancient being, she’s

a worse winner than the boys of the Thorne Hill football team. “Get

your ChapStick out, champion. Full house.”

When I see her tens full of jacks, I realize I’ve been holding my

breath.

Shelly reaches her hands into the pot, but I place my hand on top

of hers. “Hang on, hang on.”

I flip my cards over and there they are, white under the belly of

the sky. A royal straight flush. “Beginner’s luck.”

“You hustled me,” Shelly growls. “You said you couldn’t play.”

“You guys assumed I couldn’t play,” I shrug.

Marty nearly falls on the ground laughing. I take the chips and

scoop them up to my side. The items revert back to their normal

shapes. I drop my winnings into my backpack, except the crumbling

sheet of paper.

In my hands, a few more pieces crumble. Shelly’s shoulders relax,

giving in. Maybe even happily. She smiles and says, “Give it here,

champion. I knew you had it in you.”

***

“Where is she?” I pace around a toadstool. “It’s been, like, ten

minutes.”

Shelly vanished into some trees and hasn’t come back yet.

Frederik isn’t paying attention to me. He’s staring at Rachel,

who’s using the poker table as a sofa. They share a secret smile with

each other.

Marty’s giving Thalia a lesson in basic card games. “Relax, dude,”

he says. “She’s probably counting her corny shells. I made a joke

about pawning them off to a psychic friend. Go fish.”

Thalia pulls a card from their stack.

“Have you been to see the landlocked yet?” Frederik asks.

“Not yet.”

“You should.”

“I’ve been a little busy,” I say drily.

I know in my bones I’m on to something.

Frederik’s going to speak again, but the chime of fairies returns

through the bushes. They form a curtain around Shelly in a fluttering

march. She’s changed her green sari dress into a red robe.

“Didn’t figure you for the never-wear-the-same-thing-every-hour

type, Shell Bear,” Marty laughs.

Shelly harrumphs and says, “Don’t make me get my stick.”

“No, ma’am.” Marty takes off his baseball cap and bows to her.

Shelly turns her cheek to him and says, “Also, I was just kidding.

The Yankees are going to lose. Hope you haven’t made that bet yet.”

“ Any way.” I wave at her.

“This is the oracle’s procession,” Shelly snaps. “Just because I

moved to the big city doesn’t mean I’ve turned my back on the old

ways. Once, I would’ve sat under a pyre and waited for the words to

strike. Now, the gods have retreated. They’ve left us alone. But I

still wear the robes of the gods.”

“Takes you half an hour to change a dress?” Frederik asks from the

table.

Shelly looks over my shoulder at him and yells, “I had to relieve

myself. Some of us eat more than blood .”

She takes the paper from my hand and holds it at eye level. Her

hands are pruned, wrinkled, white. They glide over the paper. Wax on.

Wax off.

I can feel her pulling on something, but it’s not on my

wavelength, whatever her magic is.

The writing flows, the letters scramble. Her face goes slack,

hypnotized and facing me but not looking at me at all. In the black of

her eyes, the symbols scroll like Internet code.

When it stops, she blinks the daze away. Suddenly she appears to

be drooping. I realize it’s the way she slouches.

“Shelly, what is it?” I take her chin with my fingers. The skin is

cold and soft as leather.

“Are you certain you want to know this?”

“Yes.” I don’t hesitate.

Shelly considers my answer. “Our secrets are rising to the

surface. This is the prophecy of the Star of the Sea. My ancestor.”

“Which means?” I turn back, wondering if the others are still

there because they’re so quiet. Covered in shadow, they watch.

Shelly stares right into my eyes as she recites:

“When known is the last son of kings,

Only the sea will remain.

The sky will shatter

And the king will rip the earth once more.

Beneath, the heart of the sea awakens.

When Death sets fire to Eternity,

The daughter of the sea weeps darkness,

In darkness we will remain.”

“Are there any happy prophecies?” Marty asks. “Like, born will be

the last son of kings and he’s going to shit rainbows.”

“That sounds terribly uncomfortable.” Thalia groans.

“What does ‘Death sets fire to Eternity’ mean?” Fred asks.

“What does any of it mean?” I ask.

Thalia drops her cards and walks over to Shelly and me. “It’s got

to be about Tristan. He’s the last son of kings. The Sea King broke

the sea, technically, when he split the trident apart.”

I’m nodding, staring at Shelly for anything. She’s cold as stone