Sorcerer's Secret by Scott Mebus

didn’t tell me I had to visit.”
    â€œI should go in alone,” Rory suggested. “If the price is as high as my dad said, I don’t think any of you would want to pay anyway.”
    â€œI’m coming,” Soka said firmly. Rory glanced at her then looked away. Though he refused to dwell on it, her rejection still stung. “I will pay any price.”
    â€œYou can’t leave me behind!” Bridget piped up. “Someone has to watch your back!”
    â€œI’m coming,” Fritz said, in a tone that brooked no argument.
    â€œAnd I’ll represent the rest of us,” Nicholas said. Lincoln looked like he wanted to protest, but one look from Nicholas made him close his mouth. “There’s no use risking more than we have to. Bang on the door if there is trouble. Or come in after us, if you have to.”
    â€œWe will,” Alexa said. She walked over to the cast-iron fence and fiddled with the padlock. After a moment the lock sprang open and the fence swung out. “Good luck.”
    His stomach rolling, Rory strode through the open fence and up to the lighthouse door. Bridget stepped up on one side and Soka on the other, while Fritz rode Clarence at his feet. Taking a deep breath, Rory reached out and pulled the door open. Pitch black waited on the other side. Pushing down his fear, Rory took a big step forward, into the darkness . . .
    And immediately began to cough as smoke filled his lungs. Was something on fire? Waving his hand in front of his tearing eyes, he struggled to clear the air around him.
    â€œWho are you!” a voice demanded. Finally able to see, Rory was shocked to find himself in a dark room dominated by a round table with a mound of brightly colored chips piled up in the center, lit only by a single lightbulb hanging above. The room was far too wide to be part of the little lighthouse, so where were they? The smoke, he discovered, came from the smoldering cigars sticking out of the mouths of the five men sitting around the table. Each held cards in one of their hands. Unfortunately, in their other hands each brandished a gun, pointed Rory’s way.
    â€œI said, who are you!” One of the men, dressed in a silk suit with a black tie, stood up, his gun trained on Rory. “Did the Gambinis send you? How did you get down here?”
    â€œIt’s just a bunch of kids!” One of the other guys spoke up, grinning. He pushed back his newspaper-boy cap. “You come by to learn poker from the masters? It’s a thousand just to sit in, you know. You got that kinda money?”
    â€œI popped my first cop when I was only a little squirt,” the first man said, his gun never wavering. “You can’t trust ’em just’cause they’re kids.”
    â€œThen waste ’em so we can get back to our game already,” a third man said, his eyes wandering over toward his neighbor’s cards.
    â€œHey, don’t waste us!” Bridget cried by Rory’s side. “I love poker! The pretty black flowers are my favorites!”
    â€œEnough of this,” the first man said, his finger curling around the trigger. Rory flinched, waiting for the crack of the gun.
    â€œHold on, Tony,” a female voice called out. Into the dim circle of light strode a tall, graceful woman in a long, slinky red dress. She held a long cigar in one hand and a pack of cards in the other. She was very beautiful, in a dangerous way. As she came closer, Rory realized he recognized her. Though she was thin and lithe where the other had been fat and lumbering, this woman was the spitting image of the Fortune Teller. She nodded toward him, turning to the men. “I’ve been waiting for this one. Be a dear and give us a minute, will you? That means all of you. We can finish the game in a bit. Don’t worry, no one will peek at your cards, I promise!”
    To Rory’s surprise, all five men put away their guns without protest and