Prologue

In a candlelit, incense-filled room at the back of a small shop in San Francisco, an exotic looking woman sits at an antique table and lays seven tarot cards face down upon a silk tablecloth. Her name is Madame Xanadu and to her all that was, is, and especially all that will be, is as clear as the crystal ball that sits on the shelf next to her. With the delicate grace of someone who has all the time in the world, she flips the first of the cards over.

The High Priestess.

"Henley Reeves," says Madame Xanadu, touching the card gently and closing her eyes in order to see things more clearly. "Escape artist, dreamer, bleeding heart."

She flips the second card.

The Lover.

"J. Daniel Atlas," she says as she grazes the card with her fingertips. "Illusionist, cocksure, arrogant, but skilled."

She flips the third.

Death.

"Jack Wilder," she says. "Young, quick, but like death herself, humble and patient."

The fourth card.

The Hermit.

"Merritt McKinney. Mentalist. Wise, experienced, perceptive."

Madame Xanadu sighs.

"And now," she says as she flips the fifth card, "Who shall lead these four horsemen into battle?"

The Fool.

"Dylan Rhodes," she says. "A man of mystery, deception, and cunning, whose blood runs as cold as ice and yet at the same time burns with a fiery passion. As well as…."

She flips the sixth card.

The Bateleur

"I can't say I'm surprised to see you here," says Madame Xanadu, allowing herself a rare smile. "But who, or what, could possibly warrant such a magical alliance as this?"

She flips the seventh and final card.

The Devil.

Her eyes flutter and a gust of wind suddenly blows through the windowless room, extinguishing all the candles in it leaving Madame Xanadu in darkness.