Fate's Edge

ran away, but why did you?”
    George popped the cooler open. “Because he needs someone to look after him. We barely know Kaldar, and Gaston and Jack don’t care for each other.”
    She grinned. “You don’t say.”
    “Jack baits him all the time until Gaston loses his patience and hits him, and then it’s on.” George rubbed the back of his head. “Gaston hits very hard.”
    “Speaking from experience?”
    “Yes. I don’t take it personally. We are a pain in his . . . head. I came because without me, my brother would do something rash and stupid. Wouldn’t you do the same for your brother?”
    Audrey shook her head. “No.”
    “Why?” George reached into the cooler and pulled out a big bird. It was black and very dead.
    Audrey stared at it. Another bird joined the first one on the grass, then another. What in the world? “It’s a long story, and you probably don’t want to hear it. What are these?”
    “The sentries,” George explained. He picked up the first bird and closed his eyes for a moment.
    The bird shivered.
    Oh, my God.
    The bird rolled on its feet. It spread its large wings.
    “Go on,” George murmured.
    The bird flapped its wings and flew into the woods. George watched it go. “I’m a necromancer. The birds will keep watch, and I’ll know if anyone comes close.”
    Wow. They were some pair. One was a lynx, and the other one brought corpses to life.
    “I would like to hear your story.” George picked up the second bird.
    “My childhood wasn’t nearly as bad as yours, so this will sound like I’m throwing myself a pity party, and I am. To you, my problems might be small, but to me, they’re huge. Funny how it always works that way. Ask a man how much a dollar is worth, and he’ll tell you, ‘Almost nothing.’ Try to take a dollar away from him, and you’ll get yourself a fight.” She smiled.
    “You’re right, my problems are the biggest problems ever,” George said. “No, honestly, it’s horrible to be me. I’m rich, talented, and I make girls cry.”
    “How do you make girls cry, exactly?”
    George turned to her. His blue eyes widened. His lovely face took on a forlorn, deeply troubled expression. He leaned forward, and, in a theatrical whisper, said, “My past is tragic. I wouldn’t want to burden you with it. It’s a pain I must suffer alone. In the rain. In silence.”
    She laughed. “That was pretty good, actually.”
    George shrugged, back to his normal self. “It works sometimes. Still, I’d like to hear about your parents. Please?”
    Oh well. Why not. “My parents were grifters. I don’t think either one of them earned an honest dollar in their entire lives. Every day there was a new con or a new heist. Sometimes we’d have a ton of money. Dad would check us into a great hotel, we’d have steak and lobster, and he’d buy Mother jewelry. And the next week we’d be sleeping in some abandoned car. It was chaotic, but it was fun.
    “My brother was eight years older than me. He was handsome and so funny, and I thought he could do anything. All the girls fought over him.” Tears heated her eyes, and she blinked them away. “Alex could teleport short distances. That was his special talent. He was a really good thief, too. He would steal ice-cream bars for me from gas stations. I thought he was so cool.
    “We worked a lot, my brother and I. We’d steal things, and our parents would sell them. And then, when Alex was twenty, it all went to hell. He became a drug addict. And it was our own father who got him addicted. Dad was always looking for that big score. Every con was supposed to make us rich for life, just like the one before it.” Audrey paused, then asked, “Do you know what the Internet is?”
    George nodded.
    “People in the Broken sometimes use debit cards instead of money. They’re small plastic cards with a magnetic strip. When you swipe one through a card reader, it subtracts the price of whatever you bought from your bank account. Criminals steal the debit-card numbers and the little code you have to use to authorize the money. It takes some technical skill to do it. Then they sell the card numbers on secret forums on the Internet. You can buy the numbers, sometimes for ten or twenty bucks each, and you can make your own cards. You can take these cards to ATMs—do you know what those are?”
    George nodded again. “Automated banks that give out money. They’re very heavy.”
    “That’s right.” Audrey nodded. “I once