Killer Takes All by Erica Spindler

disturbing representation of Lewis Carroll’s Alice chasing the White Rabbit. Stacy turned the card over. She read the one word scrawled across the back.

    Soon.

    She shifted her attention to the second card. Unlike the first, it was a dime-store variety postcard depicting the French Quarter.

    It read: Ready to play?

    She returned her gaze to Leonardo Noble’s. “Why are you showing me these?”

    Instead of answering, he said, “I received the first one about a month ago. The second last week. And this one yesterday.”

    He handed her a third card. Another pen-and-ink illustration, she saw. This one depicted what appeared to be a mouse, drowning in a pool or puddle. She flipped the card over.

    Ready or not, game in play.

    Stacy thought of the anonymous notes her sister had received. How the police, including her, had considered them more crank than threat. Until the end. Then they had realized them a serious threat indeed.

    “White Rabbit is different from other role-playing games,” the man murmured. “In those, there’s a game master, a sort of referee who controls the game. He creates obstacles for the players, hidden doors, monsters and the like. The best game masters are completely neutral.”

    “And in White Rabbit?” she asked.

    “The White Rabbit is the game master. But his position is far from neutral. He beckons the players to follow him, down the rabbit hole, into his world. Once there, he lies. Plays favorites. He’s a trickster and a deceiver. And only the most cunning player can best him.”

    “The White Rabbit has a big advantage.”

    “Always.”

    “I would think playing a stacked deck wouldn’t be much fun.”

    “We wanted to turn the game on its edge. Upend the players. It worked.”

    “I was told your game is the most violent. That it’s a winner-take-all scenario.”

    “Killer takes all,” he corrected. “He pits the players against one another. Last man standing faces him.” He leaned toward her. “And once the game’s in play, it doesn’t end until all the players are dead but one.”

    Killer takes all. Unease slid up her spine. “Can the characters stand together to take him out?”

    He looked surprised, as if no one had ever suggested such a thing. “That’s not the way it’s played.”

    She repeated her original question. “Why are you showing me these?”

    “I want to find out who sent them and why. I want you to determine if I should be afraid. I’m offering you a job, Ms. Killian.”

    She stared at him a moment, momentarily nonplussed. Then she smiled, understanding. She had scammed him; he was returning the favor. “This is when you say ‘Gotcha,’ Mr. Noble.”

    But he didn’t. When she realized he was serious, she shook her head. “Call the police. Or hire a private investigator. Bodyguard work isn’t my line.”

    “But investigation is your line.” He held up a hand as if anticipating her protest. “I haven’t been overtly threatened, what can the police do? Absolutely nothing. And if what I fear is true, a private dick is going to be way out of his depth.”

    She narrowed her eyes, admitting to herself that she was intrigued. “And what exactly is it you fear, Mr. Noble?”

    “That someone’s begun playing the game for real, Ms. Killian. And judging by these cards, I’m in the game, like it or not.”

    He laid one of his business cards on the table and stood. “Maybe your friend was in the game, too. Maybe she was the first of the White Rabbit’s victims. Think about it. Then call me.”

    Stacy watched him walk away, mind racing with the things he had told her, the things she had learned about the game. They turned to the man who had attacked her the night before.

    He had warned her to “stay out of it.” Stay out of what? she wondered. The investigation? Or the game?

    It’s not the game that’s dangerous, but obsession with the game.

    Stacy stopped on that. What if someone had become so obsessed with the game,