Page 139 of Summoned
Fear swallows me like a monster that’s been circling for days but hadn’t managed to grab hold of me until now. My legs buckle, and I plunge straight into terror the moment I see blood tears streaming from Gaetano’s eyes. A foreign energy radiates from his entire being. That can’t mean anything good.
He rises as if he doesn’t feel any pain. In the next instant, the tears evaporate from his face, drops turning to steam, and I blink, wondering if I imagined them.
The brief warmth of his touch on my bare shoulder is like electricity. It jolts through me, but it doesn’t bring peace.
“It’s time to harvest,” he says, his voice woven from the source of all nightmares.
I freeze, watching him approach the crowd. His posture exudes the same threatening energy that made my skin crawl when we first met. The crowd feels it too. A deathly silence falls, broken only by the somber chords of an invisible piano echoing through the space like a funeral hymn.
I shudder from an unexplained cold, yet I can’t stop looking at Gaetano. His eyes are black—no light, no trace of humanity left.
And then he smiles. The menace vanishes. His gaze brightens again, but with that vibrant fire that promises spectacle, excitement, and a shiver down your spine. Still my heart keeps pounding as if death itself is after me.Calm down. It’s just the role of the Black Joker.
“Thank you,bella. I’ll take it from here,” he says to the illusion holding the mic. “It’s time to reward our Black Jokers.You didn’t think there would be just one, did you?”
The temperature in the room rises by at least fifteen degrees, melting the tension on the guests’ faces. They start buzzing again, whispering, checking their cards.
Eleven people step forward. These are the ones who gave him their blood and spoke the summoning spell. The first eleven. There could be more victims, but he doesn’t need the rest.
I try to make out their features through the adrenaline blurring my vision. All I see are black-and-white silhouettes of people already lost.
“My friends,” he says to thelucky ones, “do me the honor of playing one more game before the prizes. Do we have a deal?”
Someone whistles. The crowd erupts in a unanimous roar: “Yesssss!”
Gaetano smirks. “Wonderful. Before we begin… are all the Black Jokers here?” He sweeps his gaze across the room.
I’m one of the few standing apart. My eyes drift down to the crumpled, damp card in my hand. The picture ofThe Baronesshas changed intoThe Black Joker—a tall figure dressed in dark clothing, with a blank face.
It’s part of our plan, and yet my insides tremble. When I look up again, Gaetano is staring straight at me. Time to play my part. No one would suspect a thing if I were to vanish along with the others.
With leaden legs, I move toward him, pushing through the crowd to take my place in the circle around Gaetano and the other Jokers. I stand in front of the real Black Joker, and my heart skips a beat. This is the man who stared deep into my soul… and liked what he saw. He made me believe my worth came from no one but myself. I’d do anything for him.
“Surprise, I’m a Black Joker, too,” I say, raising my card forthe others to see.
Gaetano gives a slight nod and gestures for me to join. “Then you have every right to compete for tonight’s grand prize.”
I step in among the other men and women. My stomach knots as I recognize Evelin standing next to me.
She leans in, her breath tinged with alcohol. “No idea what’s happening, but I’m drunk, and he’s hot,” she whispers, waving her card.
“Pretty sure we’re about to play something… or whatever,” mutters the woman on my other side, someone I don’t even know.
“Great. Hope it involves dancing!”
“Before anything else,” Gaetano says with a wink, “I want each of you to read what’s written on the back of your Black Joker card.”
We all flip our cards over, while the rest of the crowd—at least those in front—struggle to peek. I read the first words:
CONTRACT FOR A WISH IN EXCHANGE FOR THREE TRIALS
I don’t read the rest. Even though my role is just for cover, an invisible vise keeps tightening around my throat, choking the breath out of me.
Next to me, Evelin dismisses the contract with a dramatic wave of her wrist and laughs. “I’m way too drunk to read this. Give me another game.”
At my ear, I hear the theatrical voice of someone I vaguely know. “Ohhhh… I’m shaking…”
Someone else pulls out their phone. “Sick. I’m filming this.”
