Page 3 of Conspiracies and Chemistry

As much as I hated the idea of replacing Simon, I wasn’t sure I could continue alone, either.

“Speaking of destiny,” I said, “should we get back to the game?”

“Yeah, in a sec.” Andrew hunted through the bottles on the kitchen island until he found the Jameson. He poured two fingers into a glass, then held up the bottle to me. I shook my head. To give myself something to hold onto, I grabbed another bottle of seltzer from the ice bucket on the counter. Then, taking a deep breath, I followed Andrew back into the dining room.

Tessa sat at the table. Her long, red hair stuck out of the bottom of a warrior’s helmet as she perused the player’s guide. My heart stopped when she turned her gaze up to mine.

“Let’s play,” she said.

Victory was mine. I fingered the stack of gold-colored plastic coins that represented my treasury and smiled. Through steady progress and strategy, I’d worked myself up from a lowly bard to a king.

“It’s over, Tessa,” Andrew said. He was the only other player left. The rest had been bankrupted or defeated in battle, so they’d slunk away to join other games. “Give up now, and we can try to win back our dignity at poker.”

“You’re only bitter because you flamed out three turns ago,” she said, surveying the board. Her stack of coins was much smaller than mine, plus she’d taken a hit in health points thanks to Tyler’s sneaky raid before she’d defeated him.

“How was I to know I’d draw the zombie attack card?” Andrew whined. “Zombies don’t belong in a game with wizards and bards.”

“Zombies belong in a game like this. They’re a lot like Tolkien’s Uruk-hai—” I began.

“Saruman created the Uruk-hai,” Tessa said at the same time. When she glared at me, her eyes narrowed to jade-colored slits. “The game is calledForge of Destiny.The zombies come from the sorcerer’s forge,” she finished.

Andrew’s gaze darted between us. “Creepy.”

I didn’t think he meant the zombies.

“Come on, Tessa,” he said. “Put us out of our misery. Roll so you can finish your turn and end the game.”

“I’ll take a chance on a card,” she said.

“What?” I yelped. “Those cards have been nothing but bad luck for everyone. You don’t need to go easy on me. I’ve got this game in the bag.”

She tilted her head. “Do you?”

She pulled a card, scanned it, then showed it to us. It had an illustration of a warrior standing on a pile of skulls. “‘A rout,’” she read. “‘Warriors’—which I am—‘with at least five pieces of gold’—which I have.” She tossed all but one of her plastic coins onto the board. “‘Can take the stronghold of an opponent and all treasure within.’”

I stared at Andrew, whose mouth gaped open just like mine.

“Thank you, Oliver,” Tessa said. “I’ll take that pile of coins off your hands.”

My mind spun. “How did you… How could you…”

Tessa’s long, freckled fingers stretched across the board and raked every hard-won coin from my side of the board to hers. Then she plucked my prize, a card that depicted a long blade with a jeweled hilt, from its spot in my keep. “With Worldforger, I hereby destroy the rest of your strongholds.” She folded her arms, her eyes glittering like Worldforger’s gems. “I win.”

“How the fuck did you know that card was up next?” Andrew said.

“Simple probability.” She shrugged. “Surely you took statistics in college?”

“But—” I snatched the next card off the deck. “How did you know it wouldn’t be ‘Utter ruin: Give 90% of your treasury to the opponent to your right’?” I showed her the illustration of a king with a sword pressed to his throat.

“I didn’t. But as Victor Hugo once said, ‘Oser. Le progrès est à ce prix.’”

In her husky voice, French sounded like sex. I cleared my throat. I hated—hated—to ask, but I couldn’t resist. “What’s that mean?”

“‘Daring is the price of progress.’ Loser gets me a slice of chocolate cake.”

“I’ll get it.” Andrew stood.

“No,” I said, “I’m the loser. I’ll get it.” I heaved myself from my chair. My ass felt flattened from the hours we’d sat playing. So did my spirit. I’d beenthis closeto showing Tessa I was a worthy opponent and getting her to think of me as more than Andrew’s too-young, dorky friend. And then a chance pull of a card shot me right back down. She’d never think of me as anything more.

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