Three played a 'Wicked Game.' Now, it's time for round two.
One will fight. One will meet The Maker. And one will try to keep them all safe.
The world may be black and white but to win this game, they'll have to play in the gray.
Floodlights shone over the soccer field even though the sun was still painting the sky orange. Small huddles of people were scattered around Barnett Field not ready to go home yet even though all the games ended thirty minutes ago. Isabeth slapped the clipboard she'd been cradling around all day on the rectangular table.
She reached into the pocket of her dress as a yawn escaped her mouth. She shielded her mouth until the yawn faded away then massaged the tight muscles in the crook of her neck. The banner that hung in front of the table informing everyone that this was the place to come if you needed help or lost your kid flapped as a gust of cool air blew in from the coast.
Isabeth tugged her cardigan close with one hand and with the other, she pressed down on her phone's home key. The phone's light illuminated her tired face. Her chocolate eyes dimmed as she scrolled through the calls and texts she missed; none of them were from the person she was looking for.
"Pretty good games." The male voice made Isabeth jump, dropping her phone on the table.
Isabeth huffed out a deep breath as her eyes settled on the guy in front of her, "Malachi. You scared me." She clung to her heart. She gave him a weak smile.
"Sorry." He inched closer to the table with a Battery Acid cup in his hand. "I'm about to take off." The laughter of Alice Helms being chased by some boy he couldn't name drew his eyes. "I just want to know if you want me to wait for you."
Malachi's words sent Isabeth back to Kyren, back to the lobby of the hospital. She blinked bringing her mind back to the present. "Yeah, but...can you give me ten minutes, though? I have to pack up these swag bags and break this table down."
"Sure." He nodded then took a sip of black coffee with one cube of sugar, no doubt; Isabeth knew it was what he always ordered. Malachi was straight-laced other than being Alex's brother, he had no surprises and Isabeth liked that about him. "Do you need any help?"
"I got it," Isabeth assured grabbing her phone off the table.
"I'll just be over there with Dalton." He pointed to the cluster of people with loud music, drinking beer in the middle of the field.
"Cool." Isabeth looked down at the black screen of her phone. "Chi." Her voice was low but he turned back to her. "Have you heard from Alex?"
"I saw him this morning." He walked back to the table. "Why? I thought you two are broken up."
"We're not broken up." She spat out. "I mean...it's complicated." She smoothed her hand down her ponytail. "It's just that...he usually sends me a text saying good morning and I didn't get one." She held up the phone like Malachi could see her text history.
"I don't know." Malachi shrugged. "Maybe...he just forgot."
Isabeth rubbed the back of her neck; she could feel the hairs rise up there. "Maybe." She weakly agreed. "Maybe." She muttered again with a nod.
Malachi ventured to the middle of the field as she neatly placed the black matte bags with the words Blackbird Tournament in white into the box. The sun had gone down and the floodlights were doing a good job, as the only thing Isabeth could hear was Big Sean's verse on Clique, until she felt a presence at the end of the table. She turned her head and her jaw tightened at the sight of the man in a crisp white shirt with tattoos over every inch of his neck and arms.
"Hello." His heavy voice broke through the music. "I'm The Messenger." He held out his hand and even that was inked up.
Isabeth peered down at his appendage then her eyes ticked back up to his face. "Of what?" A wisp of breath blew from her lips. "Death."
"That's entirely up to you," He withdrew his hand, settling it at his side.
"Let me guess..." Isabeth folded her arms to stop the shiver that took hold of her body. "The Psychopath Maker sent you."
"You're a very smart girl." He smiled displaying white teeth that made him look dashing. "That's one of the reasons you were picked."
"If you're The Messenger then where's the letter?" Isabeth looked at his hands but they were empty.
"There are no more letters." He didn't reach toward his pocket but he did step behind the table. Isabeth moved over. "You've made it to round two." He clapped softly so only she could hear. "For now on you'll be hearing directly from me."
"What's to stop me from calling the cops on you." She studied the skull on the side of his neck. "You kind of stand out in a crowd."
The corner of his mouth ticked up as he stared out at the field, "You snitch on me, and I'll snitch on you." He leaned close to her ear, "And I know where the bodies are buried. So..." He leaned back over placing his sight back on the field. "Don't fuck with me or...you'll get fucked."
Isabeth swallowed hard burning holes into his tattoo-free face. "What's the message, then?"
"I'm glad you asked." He turned his body toward her. "I'm not eloquent with words like my maker so here goes, the choice is yours, which one will you play for? Faith or Alex?"
"Play for? What?" Isabeth tried to blink away her confusion as her heartbeats quicken. "I'm sorry...where's Alex?"
"Is he your pick?"
"Uh?" Isabeth froze, as her throat felt like it was about to close.
"Don't rush to decide." He patted her shoulder. "You have until noon tomorrow." He backed away from her. "Meet me in Jade Park...and don't be late. Faith or Alex? Tick-tock. Tick-tock." He mocked as he backed away.
Isabeth watched him as he disappeared into the darkness of night then she collapsed to her knees planting her face in the palms of her hands muting her scream.
Who do you think Isabeth will pick? Faith or Alex?
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