by Leo Romero
Killian turned his mouth down and nodded in appreciation. He obviously liked the fact I wasn’t prepared to be pushed around. Dickhead laid down the flop, the first three upturned cards of the hand. A two, a king, and a five.
Hey, whaddayaknow! I was packing two pair. How quickly fortunes can change. I made sure to keep both my body language and facial expression neutral. Killian twitched and huffed as he studied the flop and his cards, all the while playing with the bones in his bloodstained hand. Meanwhile, I kept a beady eye on that tentacle. It was hovering straight up in the air, but I didn’t trust it one bit.
Killian threw in a few chips, trying to lure me in. I took the bait. I thought about raising him but decided to lure him in with bigger bets after the turn and river cards. I met his bet. Dickhead laid down the turn card, the fourth upturned card of the hand. A queen. Not bad for me. I still had my two pair. Killian could’ve been holding a stronger two pair, or even a three of a kind, but I was quietly confident. And the pot was looking pretty weighty already.
I waited to see what kind of bet Killian went in with next. And it was a big one. Bigger than I expected. He either knew he had nothing and was bluffing hard, or he was packing what he needed. I gazed into his reddening irises to try and read them. Nothing. Playing poker with demonic entities isn’t recommended as they’re liars by nature. It had been bad enough playing against Death; that asshole had no eyes to read, only vacant sockets. All I could read in this guy’s eyes was that he was permanently pissed, which was no help at all.
My reading of the situation was thus: it was the bastard’s house, and he was trying to stamp some authority on the game early on. I was pretty confident I was in the lead, and he’d sniffed that and was trying to scare me off. Not gonna work, pal.
I met his bet and raised the asshole.
A grin spread up his face. “I always prefer it when the brave lose to me,” he said. “It makes your downfall so much more enjoyable to witness.”
I sighed. “Yeah yeah, are you gonna play or not?”
“Indeed I am!” He threw in his chips and nodded at Dickhead to deal the final upturned card of the hand, the river card. I adjusted in my seat. I hadn’t been expecting Killian to meet my raise so quickly. Doubt flickered in my mind. The enemy of the poker player. I needed to remain strong to both my instincts and my convictions.
Dickhead laid down the river. An eight. A nothing card. My two pair was still strong.
Killian played with his chips for a few seconds while he contemplated. I couldn’t shake the feeling he was toying with me. He picked up a bunch of chips and threw them in. Bastard.
“Don’t rush in, Stone!” Draxil warned.
I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t want Killian to get a big win over me so early. It would dent my confidence as well as my chip stack. Conversely, an early win for me would do me wonders. While two pair wasn’t a rock-solid hand to go big with, it wasn’t bad either, especially how the five upturned cards had fallen. It was a risk I was willing to take. Besides, I was too far in to just let him have the pot. With a deep breath, I threw in the chips to meet the bet.
“Let’s see what you got,” I said.
“You first.”
I grumbled to myself and turned my cards over. Killian gazed at them and scowled. A grin crept up my cheeks. I’d got him!
Killian gave Dickhead daggers. Dickhead cowered back. I watched on, my body and mind in the deep freeze of suspense. “Your cards, Killian,” I said.
He gnashed his teeth at me, and my hands involuntarily hovered over the handles of my weapons. Killian reached out, grabbed his cards, and flipped them over. A pair of kings stared back at us all. My brow knotted in confusion. The asshole had three of a kind, which beat my two pair. I stared at the kings in stunned silence, hardly believing them to be real.
Killian let out a cackle; it was razor blades in my mind. I flicked my eyes up to see him leaning back in his seat and laughing heartily. Next to him, Dickhead joined in, gibbering like a chimp.
“Does that mean you win, Father?” Morbida said in an impatient tone. “I hope it does.”
“Not yet it doesn’t,” I said through clenched teeth, turning my head to the side.
Killian continued with his cackling as he raked in his chips. I watched them go, my heart sinking like it was trapped in quicksand. Dejection slammed down on my mind like an avalanche. That was a big win for Killian, and a bad loss for me. I was in the most hostile territory I’d ever found myself. An angel playing cards in Hell. Everything was against me there.
“Keep your spirits up, Stone,” Draxil said.
I felt like telling him to shut up.
I gazed at the cards as Dickhead gathered them up. I sniffed around for magic, but I couldn’t detect any, only the stench of death. I couldn’t see anything untoward about the deck of cards either. They looked legit. Maybe it was just good fortune on Killian’s part to bag a three of a kind so early on. Luck is a big part of card games.
Dickhead shuffled the cards while Morbida was busy wearing a groove into the floor, impatience etched into her face. Man, she couldn’t wait to go to work on me. Must be my dashing looks and charm!
“Hurry up and beat him, Father!” she growled in frustration, her voice like the screechings of an alley cat. She was like a junkie without a fix.
Killian held up a palm. “All in good time.”
“I can’t wait!” she shrieked maniacally. Man, I wished all women would be as keen for my flesh as this one!
Dickhead dealt the cards for the next hand. I checked them. A four and an eight. Useless. My BS radar was starting to get twitchy. Two hands in a row I’d been dealt shitty cards. Could just be bad luck. I kept my expression as cool as possible while Killian sneered and twitched, weird gurgles emanating from his throat. I felt like telling him to stop doing that ’cause he was breaking my concentration. I also felt like folding, but I was curious to see how this hand went. Was curious to know just how good Killian’s hand was. I threw in a small bet and Killian met. Nice and easy.
Dickhead laid down the flop. Five, six, queen. I was on for a straight. Just needed a seven. I still didn’t trust anything. I was getting this creepy feeling of eyes on me. And it couldn’t have just been Morbida or Dickhead. A shiver coursed through me. I looked up. Those bodies hanging from the ceiling greeted me with their vacant, long-dead stares. Maybe it was the fact dead bodies were right above me that was creeping me out.
Whatever. I threw in a bet. Killian met. He was behaving. Not raising, not acting aggressive. I didn’t like it.
Dickhead dealt the turn card. Another five. I had one more chance to bag a seven, and I wanted to take it. I bet conservatively. Killian played along.
Dickhead laid down the river. A seven! My heart picked up in pace. I had the straight. I should’ve been happy, but something was bothering me. I didn’t trust anything. I grabbed some chips and rolled them around in my fist, working out how Killian could possibly beat me. There was no flush to be had, but if he had the other two fives, that would give him four of a kind, which beat my straight.
I licked my lips while Killian twitched and sneered. Surely he wasn’t packing the two fives. My luck couldn’t be that bad. With a straight in the bag, I had to play, and it was a chance to get some of the chips back I’d lost in the last round.
I went in big. Killian just twitched and gnashed his teeth. I kept my eye on him. Without hesitating, he met my bet and raised it. I froze. You gotta be shitting me!
He’d have to have balls the size of Texas to try and bluff me at this stage. He met my stare and grinned. And twitched. And grinned again. “Your move,” he said to me.
I huffed and looked away, my eyes falling on an iron maiden. I felt like locking myself away in that thing right then. I had no choice; I had to meet his bet and see exactly what he had. I slung in my chips, and he cackled. He flipped his cards over to reveal the two fives. I glared at them in disgust.
“Masterfully done, your royalness!
” said Dickhead.
I flipped over my cards to reveal my four and nine. I frowned. Four and nine?
“Your cards were different before,” Draxil said to me.
Exactly what I was thinking. They’d been a four and an eight.
My eyes rolled over toward Killian raking in his chips. My mind was doing mental gymnastics. My cards had definitely switched. Dickhead swiped a hand across the table, picking up my cards. “Hey!” I said. “Show me those again.”
Dickhead glanced at his master, who nodded his approval. Dickhead held up the two cards for me to see. A four and an eight stared back at me.
“Anything wrong?” Killian asked.
I shook my head. “No.”
Dickhead gathered up the cards and started shuffling.
“I saw what you saw, Stone,” Draxil said to me.
Behind me, Morbida yawned. “Have you beaten him yet?”
“Almost, sweetie. Don’t worry. Daddy will win this game soon. This fool’s no match for me.”
My back straightened. “In a fair game, I’ll take you to the cleaners, buddy!”
“You insinuate something untoward is occurring at my table?” he barked, his eyes flushing with rage.
“Just let me have him now, Father!” Morbida snapped. “He’s declared you a cheat. The time for games is over.”
Killian held up a hand toward her, but his gaze was fixed on me. “Are you forfeiting the game?”
My top lip curled up. “No.” I was still in the game. As long as I still had chips, my ass was safe from impalement. I had time, but not much of it. I turned my attention to Dickhead. “Deal.”
Dickhead bowed and started dealing.
I met Killian’s stare. He gave me a smug grin and then twitched. There were shenanigans going on there for real; I just didn’t know what. But, I’d find out.
I checked my cards. A two and a five. Why was I not surprised?
I looked at my box of chips. It was almost two-thirds down. Killian went in with a big bet. I could fold, but it wouldn’t make any difference. I was watching everything. Killian’s twitches, Dickhead’s eyeball. I put in my chips and scrutinized Dickhead’s hands as hard as I could while he put down the flop. I didn’t even care what the cards were. I was checking for switches, magic, anything. Killian put in his bet, and I met it, watching Dickhead’s hands again as he laid down the turn. It was a king. Whatever. I still couldn’t detect anything. I put an absent hand into my chip box to grab some, and I was clutching air. My brow pinched. I peered into the box to see it was virtually empty.
Killian chuckled. “A little light?”
I mumbled something under my breath.
“What’s that?” he asked, cupping a hand over his ear.
“I think he’s praying for divine intervention, your lordship!” Dickhead said with an inane chuckle.
I was screwed. I didn’t have enough chips for another round. All I could do was play and hope to fight my way outta there. I didn’t like my odds.
I puffed up my chest and threw in my chips. “I’m all in.”
Only then did I check all the cards of the hand, more out of curiosity than anything else. I had a two and a five, and the four cards on the table were a king, a three, a four, and a six. I had a straight. Hey, maybe I was just being paranoid after all.
Yeah, right.
Dickhead laid down the river; it was a king, making it two kings in the five upturned cards. I rolled my eyes. What was the betting Killian was packing two kings to make four of a kind again?
I flicked my eyes toward him to give him a scowl, catching him by surprise. His gaze was fixed up, over my shoulder. He realized I was staring at him and put on a fake twitch in response, allowing him to divert his gaze back down to the table.
I frowned and turned my head to the side. What had he been looking at?
I turned in my seat and arced my head upward. Those hanging bodies greeted me. Except, one of them was swaying ever so slightly as if it had recently moved and suddenly stopped. There was no breeze in there, and none of the other bodies were moving. I kept my gaze fixed on that half-decayed body, it’s skin rotten and flaky, revealing dried sinew beneath.
“Are you still playing?” Killian asked, but his question was somewhere at the back of my mind. My focus was on that body. I stood and pointed a finger up at it. I reached up my trembling finger and gave the back of its hand a prod.
It jumped into life, its eyelids flying open to reveal rotten, opaque eyeballs. It screamed and thrashed its arms on the air. I leaped back.
“It’s a Decayed One!” Draxil informed me. “Undead servants. They are minor magic casters. They’re helping to switch the cards!”
Chapter 17
I nodded in understanding. So that was Killian’s game. I drew Bam Bam, aimed, and fired. The Decayed One’s head popped like a balloon, ending its feral noise. Rotten flesh and flecks of skull showered the ground.
I immediately whirled and faced Killian, who’d by then jumped to his feet. Morbida came rushing in toward me, poker at the ready. I aimed Bam Bam at Killian, and she stopped dead in her tracks. Everyone came to a halt.
Dickhead let out a moan and dived for cover under the table, his tentacle snaking out from below to watch what was going on. My eyes fell on the upturned cards on the table. They’d changed to what they really were now that the Decayed One’s magic was kaput. I’d actually won the hand. Bastards.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Killian growled.
“Any more of these bodies Decayed Ones, Killian?” I asked.
Killian snarled.
“Think I’m dumb? I knew you were up to something.”
Movement from above made my eyes dart up. The bodies hanging from the ceiling were squirming like worms on the ends of hooks. My eyes bulged. They were all Decayed Ones. Moaning and writhing and suddenly coming to life. To my horror, they rained down from the ceiling, hitting the ground with meaty thuds. I spun in a circle, aiming Bam Bam at everything.
One landed by my feet, and I kicked out at it. Its ribs crushed under the impact, soft like moist cardboard. It squealed like a pig as it writhed in agony. I went to give it another whack when something fell on my back. The mega creeps shot across my body and mind, a groan of disgust escaping me. I shrugged the thing off me as hard as I could. I whirled in time to see it smash into the table, sending it flying, exposing Dickhead cowering below.
The Decayed Ones rose to their feet, capturing me in a circle. I saw a gap to the right. I rushed through it, wanting to face the whole room. I backed up, a legion of Decayed Ones facing me. Killian stood at the head of the throng, arms crossed over his chest.
Morbida was next to him, her wicked glare fixed on me. Half a grin was creeping up her damaged cheek.
The Decayed Ones stood there, their shoulders hunched, their rotten gazes on me, guttural breathing emanating from their decaying chests. Bits of flaky skin cascaded down off them like dust. They were Killian’s slaves, his servants at his beck and call.
“Don’t let any of their palms touch you, Stone,” Draxil warned. “Their touch is contagious.”
Now he tells me!
I gazed at the rotten, deformed hands surrounding me, some of them missing fingers. Beyond everything, Margaroth sat in his cage, sleeping. I couldn’t leave without him. The Decayed Ones were blocking the exit. I’d have to fight my way out of there. I backed up some more and hit a bloodstained rack.
Killian tilted back his head and laughed. “So, you are smart enough to see through my tricks and still be alive. Morb usually has her poker up their rectums by the time they realize what’s going on.”
“Guess I’m lucky,” I said, wiping the sweat from my brow. My mind was working overtime. Those Decayed Ones were freaking me out big time. There must’ve been twenty to thirty of ’em, just waiting to be let loose.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. When she is done with you, I’ve got the perfect place for you, right above my poker table. You’ll be my luc
ky charm.” He cackled, and it triggered the rage inside me. Purple mist rose from my dark palm and a nice big shitball brewed.
Killian stopped laughing. He jabbed a finger at me. “Get him!” he snarled, his face contorted with rage.
The Decayed Ones jumped into life. They raced in, their deadly hands held up ahead of them, giving me the ‘boogie boogie’ sign. I slung my shitball at the nearest one. It splattered across the bastard’s face. There was a hot sizzle, and the Decayed One let out an inhuman wail of pain. The SOB shuddered in agony as its face melted down like wax, the dark streak of hate and bile melting through it like boiling water on ice. In mere seconds, half its head was gone, revealing a green, maggot-riddled mess.
“Shoot it!” Bam Bam ordered. I pulled the trigger. The rest of its head vanished, leaving a headless corpse to stagger around blind for a few seconds before slumping to the ground.
One down. But no time to relax. I was stormed upon by a bunch more, all of them screaming and gibbering as their broken limbs hauled them toward me. I shot another in the face, caving it in. It reeled away, smashing into a bunch of others, impeding them for a few seconds. It gave me enough time to holster a now empty Bam Bam and draw Excalibur. Without hesitation, I swung him across the air as if I was trying to cut through tall grass. Any Decayed Ones foolish enough to be within touching distance of my blade got themselves chopped. Excalibur hacked through their softened and decayed bodies with minimal effort like I was using a lightsaber. Limbs dropped, bodies came apart, the upper sections falling to the stone floor to thrash in agony. I raised my boot and stomped on a nearby head, crushing it like a grape, a satisfying crunch and squelch occurring underfoot that was akin to stepping on a snail.
The other Decayed Ones wisely fell back, which gave me a few seconds to work out what the hell was going on. I didn’t waste a second. I got another shitball brewed and, with my gaze fixed on everything ahead of me, I pressed it into the edge of my blade and ran it down. Excalibur was soon shimmering with dark magic.
