The night before they got called into a secret club none knew about. A Magician and his daughter. Who would have thought a publican had a duality of purpose?

Lying back on pillows raised on the bed frame, he closed his eyes to think about what had happened. One word struck him in particular, being called a fool, not once but twice: coincidence? Or was it the fool? The Joker in the Tarot deck. A power card, a new beginning, and the end of something, but what was the spread? Was the one to make decisions ahead, and at what risk would that mean, or to whom? Was that why the demon incapacitated him? To draw him out of the deck and oversee things, direct the cast, invoke change, and complete the bargain. Or was he just a fool digging his grave and lucky to have escaped tonight with bruised ribs? Either way, he was as good as out of the game now.

He should throw a spread and see what cards came calling. Then again, what if he drew The Fool there, too, along with Death, The Hanged Man or The Devil himself?

He regretted a small laugh, a reminder from his ribs that the cards had followed them around The Black Swan. Black Marsh, Dead Man Walking, The Black and more. Words and runes and a shadow man that was more than a ghost and capable of physicality. Murder they had witnessed under a Hunter’s Moon, coincidence? A Hunter stalking under the proper phase of the moon stalking a bargain breaker if their words were factual. All of it could be lies and deceit to lead them on a fool’s errand.

There would be bitter coincidence, and the laugh and smile faded, a tragedy to follow. Conrad was lost because they entered a place nobody took seriously, hunting a man with a cursed mirror. However, they found much more, and it was only now that the hobby had become real.

The devil is in the detail.

Have we chased demons until they noticed and began tracking us?