Curse of Pride

My hand hovers over the seven cards. For a long moment, I cannot bring myself to touch any of them. Every option feels catastrophic. Each one promises some new form of misery..Finally my eyes settle on Pride. If I am being honest with myself, it seems the least dangerous.

Pride sounds survivable. Embarrassing, maybe, or humbling, a lesson about vanity and ego. Compared to the others, it feels almost harmless. I reach forward and place my fingers on the card. The moment I touch it, the gold lettering begins to glow.

Across the salon, Countess Valeria Voss smiles. "Oh my poor dear." The amusement in her voice immediately makes me regret my decision..The Pride card rises from the table and drifts through the air. It settles neatly into Valeria's waiting hand. The vampiress rises from her chair. Every movement she makes is graceful.

Dark curls cascade around her shoulders like liquid midnight. Ruby jewelry glitters against pale skin untouched by age. Her crimson gown looks less like clothing and more like something woven from wealth itself. She carries herself with the confidence of a queen who has never once doubted her own superiority.

I understand why people fear her. Beauty convinces people that something elegant cannot also be dangerous. Valeria Voss has spent centuries proving otherwise. "I suppose introductions are in order." She takes a slow sip from her wineglass.

"Countess Valeria Voss. Collector. Patron of the arts. Philanthropist. Occasional queenmaker."

Marina snorts. "That's one way to describe yourself."

Valeria ignores her. "I have advised emperors, bankrupted noble houses, manipulated elections, ruined dynasties, and attended more royal courts than most historians know existed." Her smile widens. "I have also been thrown out of nearly all of them." The other women laugh. Valeria looks pleased with herself.

"The supernatural world calls me many things. Socialite. Manipulator. Monster." Her ruby eyes settle on me. "Personally, I consider myself to be a connoisseur of human suffering." I do not like the way she says that. Valeria begins slowly circling me.

"Pride is a fascinating sin, Jezebel. Most people misunderstand it." I turn to follow her movement. "They think pride means confidence. It doesn't." She stops behind me. "Pride is the belief that you deserve special treatment. The belief that you are somehow above humiliation. Above failure. Above consequences."

I feel my stomach tighten. Valeria's voice becomes softer. "Pride whispers that embarrassment is unbearable." She circles back into view. "Pride convinces us that dignity matters more than personal growth." Her smile becomes almost predatory. "And nothing terrifies Pride more than becoming a joke."

I suddenly do not like where this is heading. "What exactly is your curse?"

The women exchange amused glances. Valeria looks delighted. "My curse is quite simple." The Pride card flips over in her hand. The image upon it changes. My blood runs cold as a sprawling circus tent rises beneath a midnight sky, its striped canvas illuminated by thousands of golden lights. Crowds fill the grandstands. Spotlights sweep across the center ring. Acrobats soar through the air while musicians play somewhere beyond the edge of the scene.

At first it almost looks magical. Then my eyes find the clown standing alone beneath the brightest spotlight. The figure is completely bald. There are no eyebrows above those wide blue eyes. The oversized costume hangs awkwardly from a body I recognize immediately. For a moment my brain refuses to accept what I am seeing. Then the clown looks directly at me, and I realize I am staring at myself.

"Oh, hell no." The room erupts with laughter.

Valeria practically beams. "Oh, yes. You selected Pride, Jezebel. Pride belongs to me." The image on the card expands. For a moment I glimpse impossible sights, a massive circus, crowds cheering, acrobats flying through the air. A ringmaster stands beneath a spotlight.

And somewhere in the center of it all a clown being laughed at by thousands of people. The clown looks miserable. The clown is me. I feel sick. "The Curse of Pride will place you within my circus." Valeria's voice carries through the room like a judge delivering a sentence.

"You will become the butt of every joke. The target of every laugh. The fool that exists solely for the amusement of others." Valeria's eyes gleam. For the first time since choosing the card, none of the women are smiling. Valeria stops directly in front of me. "The challenge is whether or not you can recover from the complete destruction of your precious ego."

I swallow. "What happens if I can't?"

The vampiress studies me for several seconds. "When people are told they are worthless, eventually they begin to believe it." A chill runs through me. "The curse will attack your pride first." Her smile fades. "Then your confidence." The room feels colder. "Then your self-respect."

I find myself gripping my own arms. "And if you surrender completely?"

Valeria's expression becomes sympathetic. "You will become exactly what the audience believes you are, and remain that way forever." Valeria raises the glowing card. The circus tent upon it grows brighter. Music begins echoing faintly from somewhere impossibly far away, calliope music, cheerful but terrifyingly.

Valeria extends her hand toward me. "Welcome to Voss' Marvelous Midnight Circus."