Nothing could look worse to me, than what i was facing. The crowd full of monsters staring at me like I was dessert… I couldn't even feel my legs anymore.
Seriously!!
I looked down and realized my knees were just gone. Replaced with something that looked like smoke stitched together by red threads. My body wasn't all here. Like I was part of the place now. Just another puppet on velvet strings.
The man on the stage smiled wider. Too wide. His teeth were filed into little triangles. His suit was crisp, black with blood-red trim, and his eyes were gold, like coins.
He tapped his cane. "Lot Number Thirteen, folks. Rare item. Fresh thief. Soul-stained. Carrying the Eye of Tomorrow, freshly stolen from the late, great Mama Marcelline."
I wanted to shout that she was already dead when I got there, but somehow I knew that everyone in this room already knew that. And none of them cared.
Beside me, Etta was breathing fast. She looked pale. Sweating.
"Why am I a lot?!" I hissed.
"Because you're stupid enough to carry a queen's curse," she muttered. "And you showed up here without masking it."
I looked around.
Creatures watched from high balconies. Some were human, mostly. But others had no faces, just stitched lips or eyeless sockets. A man with wings for arms. A woman made of cracked mirrors. And a child, not older than six, whose head was a spinning tattoo disc.
One of them giggled. It echoed in my head like a scream.
"I'm not for sale," I growled.
The man on the stage, the Auctioneer, I guess, pointed at me. "He talks, folks! Rare for a cursed item. Don't worry, he won't for long."
My legs tingled. Like pins and needles. I tried to stand, but something yanked me back down.
Chains. Red ones. Invisible until they weren't.
"Etta..."
"Quiet," she whispered, digging in her bag. "I didn't know they'd mark you as a lot. That's... bad."
"You think?!"
The Auctioneer raised his hands. "Let's start the bidding at one soul shard. Do I hear one? One soul shard for the boy who sees the future?"
A voice, thick like molasses, echoed from the shadows. "One."
Another. Raspy, broken: "Two."
Then smoother: "Five."
Someone else: "Ten. And a finger."
The Auctioneer laughed. "Oho! Ten and a finger! Who says romance is dead?"
I wanted to scream. But instead, I focused on the mark on my wrist. The Eye of Tomorrow. Show me.
Five seconds forward...
I saw chains snap. I saw myself running. I saw Etta throw a card. Fire. Then back to now. Okay. So I waited.
"Twenty," someone barked. "And a memory."
The room gasped. Even Etta flinched. The Auctioneer purred. "Oooh. That's serious currency, folks. A memory. From before the ink. Final call?"
I whispered, "Etta. Now."
She yanked a card from her coat and tossed it into the air.
BOOM...!
The card exploded into black fire. Smoke twisted into screaming faces. Chains evaporated. I jumped to my feet, my legs were real again, and so I sprinted down the velvet aisle.
"STOP HIM!" the Auctioneer roared. "Lot Thirteen is escaping!"
The floor warped. The walls melted. I ran harder.
People lunged. One grabbed my coat. I kicked free. Etta shouted behind me, throwing more cards, lighting the curtains on fire.
And then....
A man dropped from the ceiling. Tall, pale, wrapped in gold wire. His mouth was sewn shut, but the tattoos on his neck screamed in his place. These Tottoos...the'll never stop to....
"YOU STOLE FROM THE QUEEN."
He charged.
I ducked. The Eye of Tomorrow blinked.
Five seconds ahead. I saw the swing. Dodged it. Slid under his legs. Rolled. Etta threw a bag at me. I caught it without thinking.
"RUN, JAKE!" she screamed.
So I did.
Burst through a curtain, crashed into another hallway that smelled like wet dirt and flowers. More red carpet. More mirrors.
I didn't stop. Not until the world tilted sideways and the ground vanished.
I fell hard into water. Freezing. Black. Still.
I kicked, clawed, gasped...surfaced. And saw the graveyard again. Same twisted gate. Same screaming tombs.
But now… no Listener. Just moonlight and silence.
Etta dropped beside me, coughing. Hair soaked. Eyes wide.
"We made it," I panted.
She shook her head. "No. We didn't. That wasn't the Auction. That was a preview."
I blinked. "A what?!"
She stood, dripping. "The real Auction is tonight. That was just their way of testing the meat."
My stomach turned.
"They're coming back for you," she said. "And next time, there won't be chains. There'll be needles. And thread."
"What do they want from me?!"
She looked at my wrist. The Eye glowed faintly.
"They want her, Jake. Mama Marcelline. The real one. You think she's dead? She's in you. And they want her back."
"But she's not talking."
"She will," Etta said. "Soon. They always do."
I sat down hard on the wet stone.
"What now?"
She reached into the bag she'd tossed me. Pulled out a tooth. Big. Yellowed. Still bleeding.
She handed it to me.
"Now," she said, "we go find the man who stitched the Queen's first mark."
I stared at the tooth. It whispered. Not words. But laughter.
.........