by Leo Romero
His head was caught in the midst of demonification from human to demon as he still needed to perform more evil deeds to fully level up. Half his forehead stretched upward, a small horn developing. Only some of his teeth had formed into fangs, while his eyes had a slight red tinge to them. A dirty, brown smock covered his bare chest, which was sporting fresh bloodstains amongst older, dried ones. Etchings ran up his forearms, not the same as mine, indicating he was an acolyte of another demon school.
“What’s the noise?” he asked in a slightly graveled voice, rubbing blood off his forming claws with a dirty rag. “I was in the middle of something.”
I hated to think what.
Morbida flicked her head my way. “This one says he beat Death in a game of cards.”
A twitchy grin broke out on Killian’s face. It soon evolved into full-blown laughter. He howled at the ceiling, his hairy shoulders juddering. Morbida’s cackles joined the party. Even Dickhead decided to giggle like a little girl. Dickhead.
I held up my hands and gave them all the ‘come on’ sign. “Laugh it up, assholes,” I said, and their laughter petered out.
Killian rubbed tears from his eyes. “Ah, I haven’t laughed like that since I gave that brain surgeon a lobotomy.”
My top lip curled up. I hated these pricks already. “Don’t believe me?” I pulled out my Deck of Death. “Where d’ya think I won these? At a fairground?”
All of their smiles drooped.
Morbida reached out to take them off me, and I pulled them back. “No you don’t.”
“Let me see,” she snarled.
I pulled off the top card and held it out to her. She narrowed her eyes and scrutinized the depiction on the back. Death himself, the Grim Reaper: a skull shrouded in smoke, its eyes lit up with fire, a bloodstained scythe slashing its way overhead.
“It’s true, Father,” she gasped. “It bears the mark of Death.”
“Well, yeah, it would seeing as it was his personal deck,” I said.
“Where did you get it?” Killian asked. He wasn’t laughing anymore or even grinning. I liked that.
“I told you. I beat him. I won his deck. Now I’m here for Margaroth.”
Killian frowned. “Margaroth?”
“He says he wants to take you on in a game of cards,” Morbida told him. “To play for Margaroth.”
“That’s right. So, what say you, Killian? I hear you fancy yourself a bit of a card shark. How about taking on the man who beat Death?”
His eyes glowed with desire, and he grinned, his teeth all disjointed. “Ah! A challenge at last. I’ve beaten every piece of shit from every Circle who thought themselves good card players. They always lose because they’re so bad.”
“I know how you feel, buddy. Shitty when you can never find a challenge, huh?”
“Indeed it is. This is the latest fool to take me on.” He pointed at the asshole in the stocks. “Crushed him with a straight flush in the end, and now his soul is mine.”
“Ooh, a straight flush? Well you won’t be getting that kind of luck against me.”
Killian tilted back his head and let out a hearty laugh. “Your arrogance will make it sweeter when I crush you! Now, Hell’s rules apply. Acolyte of Hazatar or not, losing a game of cards here means you will belong to me.”
I gulped.
“Accept,” said Draxil.
“I accept!” I echoed without thinking. “I do?” I said to myself.
“Yes, you have,” said Killian with a scary grin.
“Can I have him, Father?” Morbida asked, wiggling with delight. “You know how much I love whipping the arrogance out of them. His tears will be so bitter on my tongue.”
Killian rubbed his chin. “Hmm, I’d quite like to remove his brain and study it.”
“I’ll make sure to keep his brain intact for you,” she said, trapping her tongue between her teeth afterward. She was grinning at me, but her eyes remained as black as night.
I recoiled. The thought of these two poking around in my brain was vomit-inducing. What the hell was I getting myself into?
“Ah, yes, you can have him, my sweetie!” Killian said, and Morbida clapped her hands for joy.
“Oh, thank you, Father. I’m going to have so much fun with this one.” She spun away and dashed to the corner of the room where a small pyre was burning inside a metal brazier. She grabbed the hilt of something resting in the pyre and pulled it out. My eyes widened in horror. It was a four-foot-long poker with a glowing tip. Holy moly, I hated to think where she wanted to shove that frickin’ thing!
She gazed at the poker in glee. “What delights I have to share with you!” she hissed.
“You keep your damn delights to yourself, sweetheart!” Man, if I didn’t win this game, it was gonna be Fifty Shades of Pinhead.
“Ooh, he’s feisty!” she said with a quiver. “Please let me have my way with him now!” She stamped her feet in frustration.
“All in good time. I’ll beat him at cards, and he’ll be all yours.”
Morbida shuddered in delight. “Hurry up!”
Killian met my stare. “She’s rather demanding,” he said with a sigh.
I knew the feeling well. “Kids!” I said with a knowing nod.
She grinned, her black eyes gleaming with dark desires.
“Please step into my card room,” Killian said with the sickest grin I’d ever laid eyes on. He held his hands out toward the doorway in the wall from which he entered. I adjusted my jacket. I really didn’t wanna go down there. Especially with those two.
“Good luck, Stone,” Draxil said.
Gee, thanks!
I steeled myself and stepped tentatively up to the doorway. Dickhead scuttled ahead and made his way down the steps into whatever was waiting down there.
I moved past Killian, a stink of blood and piss radiating off him. He still had that grin on. Asshole thought he had the beating of me. Reckoned he’d beaten everyone else in Hell. And a thought struck me as I went by. I had no light magic down here. No light magic meant no tricks of the light. I’d be relying on my poker skills one hundred percent. I stopped and took a look past Killian at that poor mofo in the stocks, his ass raw and bleeding. I gazed down his tortured body at his feet sizzling on those hot coals. That could easily be me in around an hour’s time.
That with a poker jammed up my ass.
Screw you, Draxil!
The daughter from Hell, no not my daughter Lucy, but Killian’s demented ‘sweetie’, skipped up behind me with that red-hot poker and pretended to ram me with it.
I jumped into life to avoid that glowing tip.
“Down you go!” she twittered like a bird. I gave her a scowl, and she cackled. I faced the waiting doorway and gulped. I prayed I’d be coming back out of it with my brain still in my skull.
I took a deep breath and went down the stone steps beyond for my game of cards.
Chapter 16
It was a huge, torch-lit dungeon. More torture devices furnished the place, while jars filled with body bits and other nasty stuff sat on metal tables. Bloodstained saws, scalpels, scissors, and knives gleamed under the torchlight.
I looked up. Decaying bodies hung from the ceiling like chandeliers. A whole forest of them. Flaking skin was half-rotten to a green, moldy color. They’d been strung up by their feet, their arms dangling down toward the floor. Killian’s victims. Looked like he kept them as trophies or something. I got a quick glimpse in my mind of joining them, and a shiver coursed up my spine.
A hot musk of death and dust permeated the air, while slime dribbled down the walls, pooling inside ancient cobwebs.
I turned in a circle, taking it all in. “Ah, lovely home you’ve got here, Killian!”
“Thanks,” he said, pride stamped all over his face. He went over to the rusty metal table in the center of the room. He slung away the severed hand resting atop it and wiped the surface down with a dirty rag. He pulled out the Judas chair from behind it and gave the small spikes running ove
r the seat a quick dusting. He pointed at it. “Take a seat.”
My brow pinched. I looked from those spikes to him. “Are you for real?”
“Problem?”
“I’m not sitting on that!”
“Spoilsport.” He looked at Dickhead. “Fetch our guest a normal chair.”
Dickhead obliged, fetching me a hard, rickety wooden stool, which was more of a footrest. I stared at it in disgust. “Think I would’ve preferred the Judas chair.”
“Be my guest,” Killian said as he took his seat opposite me, which was a comfy throne in comparison. Already trying to gain a psychological advantage over me. Meant he was scared. A good sign.
I sat down on that stool, rocking from side to side on the uneven legs. Already my butt was aching.
“Cards!” Killian said to Dickhead, who rushed off and fetched them for his master. He put them down on the table, and I gazed intently at the deck. I didn’t know how I felt about using Killian’s cards. Could he somehow manipulate them? I grumbled to myself as I watched him shuffle them.
“Something wrong?” Killian asked as he shuffled.
“Yeah. Where’s Margaroth?”
“He’s in his cage.”
“I need to see him before we play.”
Killian shook his head.
I sighed. “Killian. Usually prizes are shown as a mark of goodwill.”
“This is Hell. There is nothing good here.”
“Then we’re not playing, and the chance of getting your most famous scalp is gonna walk right up those steps.” I stood to leave.
Killian raised his hand. “Wait!”
I turned to face him. I raised my eyebrows in anticipation.
“Go and fetch Margaroth,” Killian ordered. Dickhead nodded and scampered back up the steps like his ass was on fire.
“He must be your most well-trained dog,” I noted.
“He knows what will happen to him if he doesn’t obey orders.”
“You’ll put another dick on his head?”
“Not on his head, no. Somewhere much worse for him.”
I shook my head. “Does torturing ever get boring?”
He looked at me like I was crazy. “No, of course not! Why would it?”
I sighed. “Just asking.”
“The sweet tears of torture taste to us like honey does to you,” Morbida rasped, that poker still firmly in her grip.
I glanced at it in disdain. Dickhead came running back down the stairs, almost falling down them in his haste. Part of his problem was the fact he was holding a cage that was way too big for him. The little bastard managed to remain upright and raced over to the playing table. He slammed the cage down on the surface.
“Margaroth, your majesty,” he said with a bow, the eyeball at the end of his tentacle still staring at us.
I peeked into the cage. A furless, pink mewling thing was in there. Its solid-black eyes watched me as it rolled over onto its back. It was tiny, no bigger than the size of my hand. This thing was gonna help us defeat the Horsemen of the Apocalypse?
“That’s Margaroth?” I said more to Draxil than anyone else. I’d been expecting a badass hound of Hell, preferably with five heads that all had the capacity for breathing fire, a tail made of samurai swords, claws like a pterodactyl’s beak, and the ability to shit lightning.
What I got was a plucked chicken ready for the microwave.
It met my stare, opened its little mouth, and let out a wimpy noise.
“Ah, Margaroth,” Draxil said in a simpering voice, the kind pet owners used with their favorite cats. “Coochie coochie coo!”
Oh boy! I leaned back in my seat and almost fell off my stool. I let out a depressed sigh. I was there in Hell risking my ass for the universe’s ugliest Chihuahua.
“Happy?” Killian asked. I was tempted to say no. Instead, I gave him a labored nod.
“Just get the game going.”
Dickhead picked up the cage and took it over to the side where he left it on another desk populated with brains in jars. He raced back and pointed at my side. “Shall I take his weapons, master?” he asked, pointing at Bam Bam, whose stock was now visible.
Killian frowned. “Are we going to have a problem?” he asked me.
“Only if you make one,” I answered.
Morbida stepped up to us. “It’s all right, Father. If he tries anything, he won’t be escaping.” She threatened me with her poker.
“He won’t make it out of here alive if he tries anything,” Killian stated with haughty pride. “Besides, the cages are lined with magic blockers and can only be unlocked with this.” He held up his forearm. “The etchings of Garemesh. So killing me is pointless.”
I nodded in understanding.
“Besides, mine is a respectful dungeon,” Killian stated. “An acolyte of Hazatar is a friend here.” He gave me a creepy grin. “He can keep his weapons as a mark of respect. Until he loses.”
I chuckled. “Not today, Killian.”
“We shall see.” Killian slapped the cards down on the surface of the table. “Let us begin.”
I wanted to get a feel for the cards and hopefully intimidate Killian in the process. I snatched them up and performed a backhand dancing Buddha riffle, my signature shuffle. I gave Killian a smug grin as the cards arced across the air.
I was expecting Killian to crap himself or at least show some signs of fear, but the SOB just sat there, arms crossed over his filthy smock. The last card landed in my backhand. He grinned. I frowned and adjusted on my stool. “Not impressed?”
He held out a hand and curled in his fingers. With a trembling hand, I gave him the cards. He snatched them, and without diverting his stare from me, he sent the cards spiraling through the air where they did a loop the loop. My eyes almost popped out of my head. I followed the cards as they danced and turned and performed gymnastics through the air. They went from one of his hands to the other and back again. I watched them go, my head in a spin. After what seemed like forever, the cards came to a stop in his hand which was held high above his head. The bastard was still smiling.
I grabbed the sides of my head to bring it to a stop, but my mind was still whirling.
“Upturned grinning demon shuffle,” Killian stated.
Dickhead began clapping. “Oh, wonderful, master. You are truly a king of cards!”
Ass licker! “Yeah, he’s not bad. But just ’cause you can shuffle a few cards doesn’t mean you can play. A whole different ball game.”
“Which is what you are about to discover,” Killian said.
“Hurry up and beat him, Father. My poker is getting cold, and I want him to feel the heat.”
My eyes fell on that glowing poker tip once more and the smiling psycho holding it. I gulped. Please God, let me survive this one, and I’ll never complain about anything ever again!
Dickhead brought over our chips, which were two boxes full of bone fragments dyed different colors. I reached in and plucked out a bit of green finger.
“That’s worth fifty,” Dickhead told me as I stared at it. I threw it back in the box in disgust.
“Blue is a hundred. Red twenty, black ten, and plain just one.”
Killian retrieved a small tin box from the pocket of his smock. He popped it open, took a pinch of the contents, and sniffed them up his nose, one nostril at a time. He met my stare. “Powdered bones,” he said, offering me the tin.
I shook my head. “I’ll pass.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing!” Killian put the tin away and cracked his knuckles. “Let us commence. Deal!”
Dickhead bowed and picked up the cards. I was still wary of those cards and also of Killian’s pet dwarf, who he’d designated dealer. I’d had trouble with dealers in the past who were in on the scam against me. I couldn’t have the deck and the dealer against me. It was too much. Dickhead cut the cards and dealt me my two. I checked them. A two and a five. An absolutely scintillating start!
I gazed at the cards with disgust in my he
art, but no emotion showing on my face. Didn’t want to give the game away that I had a shitty hand.
As I thought about my play, I felt like someone was watching me. I looked up to see that tentacle reaching over and that eye on the end peeking at my cards. I pulled them into my chest. “Hey!” I said and went to punch that eye. It dodged my attack, and Dickhead took a step back, taking the tentacle away. I turned my ire on Killian. “What’s with your little helper peeking at my cards with his creepy tentacle?”
Killian gave me an innocent look, which was pretty difficult for him, but he somehow managed it.
“I thought we were playing a serious game here!” I added, thumping my fist on the table. “Any more of that, and I’ll cut that tentacle off!” I grabbed Excalibur’s hilt and pulled him out a touch.
Morbida stepped forward menacingly, putting the tip of that poker close to my eye. I remained unperturbed, keeping my gaze fixed on Killian. I couldn’t let any fear show.
Killian turned to face Dickhead. “If I catch you looking at his cards, I’ll cut your tentacle off too.”
“But, master, I only have one!”
“Exactly!”
Dickhead worked it out in his mind. His remaining eye widened. “Oh, I see! Please, oh gracious butcher! I will not peek at anything!”
Killian met my gaze and gave me a small shrug. “Are we happy?”
“Yeah,” I said through clenched teeth. I didn’t like this one bit. I looked up at Mistress Medusa, and she pulled away her poker. Good riddance.
I adjusted on my stool, which made the uneven legs rock, and I almost fell off. Forget this shit, I was ready to give in.
“Hold your nerve, Stone,” Draxil said to me. “You have the beating of him.”
At least someone had faith.
Killian checked his cards and went in big off the bat. Either he was packing, or he was looking to intimidate me. With my shitty hand, I could either pass or show him I wouldn’t be pushed around. Well, I wasn’t prepared to pass. He was in his own house after all and could just be overconfident. I reached into my box of bones and plucked them out with the tips of my fingers, feeling disgusted by them. I counted out the correct amount and slung them into the pot. They went with a rattle.
