Even when a silver baton appeared in his hand. . . .

The Devil (XV)

Ogen, Foul Desecrator

“I’ll make a feast of your bones!”

A.k.a.: El Diablo, the Bloody Foul One

Powers: Superhuman strength, animal aggression. Can morph his body, first into a colossal ogre, then into a giant. His thickened hide repels acid and poison.

Special Skills: Forging metal.

Weapons: None.

Tableau: A goat-man ogre leading tethered slaves.

Icon: Two black horns.

Unique Arcana Characteristics: Ten feet tall, a horned and hunchbacked beast with cloven feet.

Before Flash: Ohio teenager undergoing treatment for cutaneous horns and bony growths on his head.

The Star (XVII)

Stellan Tycho, Arcane Navigator

“I descend upon you like nightfall.”

A.k.a.: The North Star, Supernova

Powers: Stellar embodiment and manipulation. Enhanced senses and night sight. Can generate stellar bombs, detonating himself to paralyze or destroy enemies. Echolocation, beacon emission, astronavigation.

Special Skills: Astronomy savant.

Weapons: None.

Tableau: A naked androgynous figure, gathering water under a bright eight-pointed star.

Icon: A white star.

Unique Arcana Characteristics: When he uses his power, his body vibrates until it grows indistinct.

Before Flash: Danish college student, traveling to Colorado to study astronomy.

Københavns Lufthavn

(Copenhagen International Airport)

Day 0

“You have your books?” Mother asked me.

I nodded, depressed. I just wanted to get this farewell over with.

“Do you have your money for the trip over?” Father asked me.

I patted my jeans pocket. Another nod.

To everyone else, we looked like a regular family—two parents sending their oldest child to college, while five impatient younger siblings dreamed of their turn.

College was just a coincidence. In reality, I was going to the States—leaving behind my part-time job, my friends, and my potential girlfriend (two amazing dates)—to compete in a lethal game. Possibly.

More likely, this Arcana stuff was just my parents’ insane fixation. Their craziness was our family’s dirty little secret. Every family had one, right? Like my one friend’s father who cheated on his taxes, and another one’s mother who abused prescriptions.

At best, my parents were mentally ill and had no love for me.

At worst, they were sane and were forcing me into a contest that would most likely get me killed. And had no love for me. . . .

Astrid, the youngest of my siblings, whined, “Why does Stellan get to go to Colorado?”

Because my father “sensed” the game would be in the States this time. Could be worse. He could have “sensed” it’d be in Siberia.

I tweaked Astrid’s chin. “Because I’m better than you,” I said, joking, but my parents nodded.

Father told them, “Your brother’s going to be famous for eternity.”

Mother reached up to straighten my glasses, embarrassing me. “I’m so proud of you. All your study and hard work is about to pay off. From this moment on, your life will never be the same.” She squeezed my shoulders as she hugged me. “Remember, take Death out first.” She released me, motioning for my father and me to embrace.

He and I reluctantly complied. At my ear, he grated, “Come home with twenty-one icons, or don’t come home.”

Røvhul! Asshole! But I bit my tongue.

My dad considered himself a Tarosovo, a wise man of the Tarot, and my mom was supposed to be a chronicler, but neither of them was able to travel with me to record my theoretical deeds, because my parents spawned like asteroids, leaving them with a lot of kids and little money.

Then my mother had come up with a solution: “You can chronicle yourself! Use your phone to text us updates on everything you do. I’ll download and organize your messages, entering them into the book.”

That creepy, ancient tome: The Chronicles of the Arcane Navigator.

The pages were filled with accounts of betrayals and murders from centuries ago. I knew the book backward and forward, had been read the stories since I was old enough to remember. Now my “game” would be chronicled as well.

Via text.

“So here I go,” I said, wondering if they might yet see reason. “If you stop getting updates, you’ll know the Moon shot me through the heart or the Devil ate me.” Or else I’d gotten sick of enabling their illness and refused to text any longer.

Mother pursed her lips. “That isn’t funny, Stellan. Besides, you know better than to go up against the Moon.” She chided me: “Only challenge players who must get close to you, especially in the beginning.”

I gazed from her to my father. “You’re really going to do this? Send me off by myself?” In their minds, the odds were against me living.

Which meant they were sending me off on a burning Viking funeral ship, except I was still alive and kicking, screaming for help.

“You think I should quit my job?” Father was reaching the limit of his patience with me, his face reddening with anger. “Maybe your mother should stop raising your siblings.”

“No, I would never expect anyone else’s life to drastically change.” I’d reached the limits of my patience with him as well. We’d been arguing about this for weeks. Enough was enough.

I leaned down to kiss and hug my brothers and sisters, then told the five, “Watch each other’s backs.” Without another word, I headed toward the security line, ticket ready.