by Jamie Wyman
My life. My soul. My rules.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I spun on my heel and let out a squeak as I came face-to-surly-face with a pissed-off satyr. His hard stare held my eyes.
“That,” he sternly, “was a very dirty trick.”
I drew a breath and laughed it right back at him. “Says the backstabbing, double-crossing son of a bitch who has to do the bidding of a vindictive harpy?”
“Oh, do shut up,” he spat.
“How long has it really been, Marius? I mean, you’ve been Eris’s minion for how many centuries? Waiting for her to decide it’s worthwhile to cut your leash and lift your curse? And here in Vegas? She’s torturing you and enjoying every second of it. Meanwhile, you can’t enjoy anything. Not food, not drink. You can’t even get it up to go fuck a showgirl.”
He answered with cold, steely silence. It didn’t stop me, though. He’d hurt me, and dammit, I wanted blood.
“And you know the best part? I don’t have to do a damn thing. You’re wasting away on your own. I don’t have to lift a finger to score revenge on you. All I have to do is sit back while Eris pulls your strings.”
Marius glared, his green eyes taking on a granite toughness. “And all I have to do is push,” he said.
I felt the sting of something pricking my belly and looked down to see that Marius had drawn his sword. Its point puckered the fabric of my T-shirt, blade gleaming wickedly in the moonlight. Gulping down a ball of fear and sucking in my stomach, I pulled my eyes back up to meet his. His expression didn’t waver.
“Do I have your attention?” he said with a simmer.
I swallowed another lump—this time of pride—and nodded.
“Good. Now hold out your right hand.”
I complied, unwilling to take my eyes from his. I sensed movement, his left hand rising to meet mine. Then I felt a cool weight land in my palm. For an awkward moment, we stared at one another, waiting for some cue to look away. He gave an almost imperceptible nod that I took as permission.
A golden apple winked at me from the center of a black poker chip. I held the stack—the markers that could change my life.
Like a fish, my mouth worked, but no sound came out.
Marius’s sword arm fell and the saber disappeared. “You’re welcome,” he said. The satyr whirled around and strutted back into the bedroom, leaving me on the balcony gaping after him.
My brain jerked back to life and I followed him. “How?”
He stopped short of the door. Giving me the barest of glances over his shoulder, he asked, “Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
Marius walked to me, opened my hand, and dragged a finger over the poker chips. The apple disappeared, replaced by the casino’s logo.
“Don’t trust your eyes,” he breathed.
As he removed his hand, the chips reverted to the goddess’s markers. Folding my fingers over the tokens, he leaned in close, eyes insistent. When he spoke, his voice was little more than an intense whisper.
“There is more than one game being played tonight. If you want to be rid of Eris, you need to be at the table before the last card is drawn.”
Marius reached into my other hand and took the false chips, leaving me with a stack of Eris’s actual markers.
“But, how did you get them? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Go, Catherine. You’re running out of time.”
Marius left the room, padding into the carpeted hallway.
“Where are you going?” I said after him.
He answered without looking back. “Plausible deniability.”
He disappeared into another bedroom, leaving me with a head stuffed full of questions and a stack of poker chips in my hand. Most of those questions, however, would have to wait.
From downstairs I heard the doorbell ring again. Coyote and Maui had already arrived. I could safely assume the blonde by the pool had been Loki, which meant that Puck had just arrived. Any minute now the game would resume, and my fate would be decided. I could either be a part of it or sit idle and watch it all happen to me.
Fuck that.
I slid the chips into my hip pocket, and with a stomach-flopping thrill of fear and excitement, I trundled merrily down the stairs to greet the gods.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Suck My Kiss”
I rounded a corner into the foyer just as Eris shut the door behind Puck. While the Fae lord’s lips turned up in a sly smile, Eris’s face fell. Like a pair of comedy and tragedy masks, the two stared at me for a moment.
“Cat,” Puck said. “A pleasure as always.”
I kept my face blank and my voice chilly. “Puck.”
“Catherine,” Eris muttered. I watched as confusion rippled over her face, followed by bitter anger. She couldn’t reprimand me, not here and now. She had to go along as if nothing had happened.
“Yes?” I asked.
The goddess made a choked sound, like a song skipping. When she resumed, her tone was congenial as ever. “Have you seen Marius? I want to make sure he’s finished his tasks before we start.”
I shook my head and shrugged. “Haven’t seen him.”
Her gold eyes shimmered with hatred. “Excuse me,” she said. “I need to go check on my good-for-nothing assistant.”
She breezed away. Before Puck could get a word in, I turned and bounced into the living room. Coyote settled into the chair he’d sat in earlier, Maui gazed out the patio doors at the pool, and the blond hovered over the table, surveying the cards and chips as he ate a handful of pretzels.
Now that I saw him in proper light, I took a good, long look at Loki. He was big. Not body-builder or barbarian big, but his broad shoulders, barrel chest, and lantern jaw reminded me of a military man. That was it. He had the brawny look of a soldier. As he circled the table, reading the signs and portents on the felt, he hunched his six-foot frame. Like the others, he’d adopted a casual look. The sleeves of his T-shirt stretched taut over the muscles of his arms. His white-blond hair was tied in a small knot at the back of his skull, his eyes an arctic blue and cheeks round and rosy.
“Gentlemen,” I said cheerfully. I sauntered into the kitchen and helped myself to one of the bottles in Eris’s fridge. I’m normally not one for beer, but I was so damn thirsty, the ale might as well be the nectar of gods.
Puck meandered past me, and the others lifted their heads as I plopped into one of the armchairs. I threw my legs over one side and reclined against the other, head resting on my bent elbow.
A chorus of the gods’ voices chanted variations on, “Good evening.”
Maui took the last chair while Puck returned from the kitchen with his own beer in his hand. He stretched his stocky form along the sofa.
Coyote lifted a hand and caressed the air with his fingers. He looked at me, his brow furrowing with concern. “You are injured. I see a problem on the knee. What happened?”
Casually, I waved my bottle between the Hawaiian and the Sidhe. “These two tried to kill me.”
The old man’s face hardened and flushed with ruddy disapproval. “That was not part of our agreement,” he chided. “You have broken the rules, therefore, you disqualify your claims. Very well, she is mine.”
From the poker table, the blond—presumably Loki—called out, “You wish, old man.”
“I had to test the merchandise,” Puck explained. “Only way to be sure Eris wasn’t trying to pawn off something of lesser quality.”
Coyote looked at me, his cheeks drooping like a hound’s. “I knew that. Hey,” he barked as he rose to his feet. “Come with me, young lady, to the bathroom. I’ll test you for myself.”
I rolled my eyes and took a drink, pointedly staying in place.
“Sit,” Loki said to the native, annoyed.
“These jokers nearly damaged my prize, but they have a point. I should get to sample Eris’s offering.”
“I said sit down. There isn’t time.”
Coyote begrudgingly took to his chair, mumbling, “Ther
e’s always time.” He sipped from a tumbler and leaned back, brooding. “Loki isn’t even here yet, so we can’t start.”
I flashed a look up at the blond. “I thought you were Loki.”
Maui snickered. “That’s rich.”
As the other gods chuckled, Not-Loki grinned enigmatically and popped another pretzel into his mouth.
Obviously, I was missing some inside joke here.
“All right then,” I said, “who the hell are you?”
Sandals flip-flopping loudly, he padded around to the front of the table, taking his sweet time to finish his snack. The way his mouth stretched and his jaw flexed, it seemed he was doing his best not to let loose with riotous laughter. Dusting off his hands, he leaned against the table. As he crossed his meaty arms over his chest he said, “I’m the dealer.”
“The dealer? What? You don’t have a name?”
“Guess,” he grinned.
“Rumplestiltskin?”
He snorted with laughter but refused to answer.
“Imbecile!” Eris hissed as she entered the room.
Behind her, Marius shuffled in, holding his head and looking around as if dazed. The goddess swatted Puck’s legs off of the sofa and plopped her bony ass down. Glaring at me, she fumed.
Good.
The doorbell rang, and Eris shooed Marius toward the door. “Get it.”
With a half-bow, Marius trotted off.
“Useless,” Eris spat.
Voices drifted in from the foyer.
“Oh, you again,” Marius drawled.
“Are you going to cause trouble or are you going to let me in?”
I closed my eyes and focused, trying to remember where I’d heard his voice before.
“Well,” Marius said, some of the life returning to his words, “some would argue that letting you in is trouble enough, but I suppose if you’re going to insist.”
“Excellent. I’ll see that your boss throws you a bone or two. Now run along.”
The door shut, and I still couldn’t place the voice. Marius returned, taking up a space behind the goddess.
As the newcomer swaggered into the room, my brand prickled with a cold wind, and it hit me. I’d seen him before. Just last night, even. Strawberry blond, his hair short and spiky, with pale, chiseled features and eyes the exact blue of a gas flame.
“You,” I blurted out.
“Me?” he said pointing to himself.
“You’re the guy who stopped us at the gala to check our invitation.”
He regarded me with hooded eyes and mild amusement. “Good memory.”
“Harassing my people, Loki?” Eris said, adding a tsk.
This was Loki?
He turned his words to his hostess but didn’t respect Eris enough to look at her. “By the end of the night, who’s to say they’ll still be your people?”
“Only the girl is on the table.”
Coyote slapped his knee and leaned forward. “I think this is a stellar idea. I’ll have the girl on the table.”
“Give it up, old man!” Maui called. “The wahine is mine.”
“You tried to kill her.”
“And I will do the same with you if you don’t shut up.”
“You have no fangs, fisherman.”
Meanwhile, Eris and Loki bickered about the stakes of the game.
“Listen, thief, the satyr stays with me. As for the girl, you haven’t won her yet. In fact, no one has. For all you know, the hand will be mine, and she’ll stay right here.”
“Then why are you afraid, you jealous hag?”
Puck sipped at his beer, giggling as the other gods quarreled. When voices began to rise and echo in the hollow house, the dealer whistled loudly. The deities stopped posturing, and all eyes turned to the blond man.
“I know you all have a busy schedule of bullshit and mayhem to keep, so if you don’t mind, why don’t we resume the game?”
Like admonished children, the gods stood up and took their places around the table. Clockwise from the dealer’s space they arranged themselves; Coyote, Maui, Puck, Loki, and Eris. The dealer laid his fingertips on the table. As if he’d struck a chord on a piano, a sharp sound filled the air for an instant, a deep thrum of power pulsing. The felt, chips, and cards flashed with gold-white light for an instant, and the enchantment was lifted.
As the gods took their seats, the dealer spread his hands and shot me a quizzical look. “Would you care to come watch? You are the guest of honor, after all.”
Eris stole a glance at her cards then leaned both elbows on the table. “Yes,” she said around the cigar. Another drag then a puff of smoke framed her gaunt face. “Join us, Catherine. You should tell these asshats what you told me when you arrived.”
Coyote craned his neck in question. The others faced me with various expressions of wonder. All but Loki. He sat there, his back to me, fiddling with the stack of chips in front of him.
I got to my feet and took slow steps to the table. With everyone seated, I could see just how desperate Eris’s bet was. Any gambler in Vegas would be happy with one of the gods’ seats. Maui and Puck were about even with eight stacks of colorful chips before them. Coyote trailed them, but not by much. Loki, though, had amassed quite the hoard.
The Norse trickster hunched over in his seat, feet hooked around the metal legs of his chair. With each hand, he fondled a tower, fingers deftly spreading the chips apart and shuffling them.
Coyote clutched his whiskey. A moment ago I would’ve testified that it held little more than melting ice, but as I watched, amber liquid rose up from the bottom as if some ghostly hand poured the ancient Native’s libation. As he had at the gala, he tapped his fat, silver ring on the glass. I briefly wondered if the rhythm meant anything, if the tune in his head was sacred or just something he liked. Knowing what I did about him, it was probably the beat of song by some bubble-gum-pop princess.
Suppressing a shudder, I looked around the circle.
The islander with the sun in his smile reclined, stretching his muscular legs under the table. Beneath the fabric of his ribbed tank top, the lines of his taut abs and chest were visible. With his coffee-black stare, he held my attention then twitched his pecs. Winking, he turned back to the game.
Puck counted out his chips as if he didn’t trust that his winnings had gone unmolested. Who could blame him? The beings at this table had stolen fire, snared the sun, and started wars. It would be nothing to snatch a chip or two. Puck sat several inches away from the table itself. He’d pushed his chair back so far that when he leaned forward, only his wrists touched the felt. Though he tried to maintain his arrogance, Puck’s face lined with pain.
The metal, I realized. The metal frame of the table. The chair, too. Even through his clothes and at a distance his body reacted to the iron. I wondered if this was why Puck had grown so wicked since Shakespeare told of the fae’s playful escapades. Since the Industrial Revolution, nearly everything had some component of iron or steel.
My eyes drifted to an empty chair between the Fae lord and Loki. There were no chips or cards in front of this one.
“Whose place was this?” I asked, resting my hands on the back of the chair.
“Anansi,” said the dealer, confirming Maui’s tale. “He folded early and left us. Since he has no part in this hand, he doesn’t need to be at the table.”
“You’re stalling, Cat,” Eris said, cigar held tightly between her teeth. “Tell them about your unfortunate accident.”
“Tell us what, wahine?”
I stared at the goddess, smoldering with eight years of angst and trying to see what she was playing at. She had to know this wouldn’t work, that I had the markers.
But wait…how could she?
With a flood of shocked glee, the thought flashed through my mind. I’ve got her. I had the bitch right where I wanted her. Eris had no clue Marius had given her a false stack of chips. And she didn’t know I had the real ones tucked into my pocket. And she wouldn’t know until
I set them out for her and her demented poker buddies to see.
Keeping a straight face was a herculean task. “I have no idea what she’s talking about,” I said.
“Please!” A cloud puffed out of the goddess. “You came here crying tonight that you had lost the chips you were tasked with collecting. You see?” she addressed her fellow deities. “She can’t keep a couple of trinkets for more than a few hours. What good is she?”
Around the table, eyebrows raised in succession as if doing the Wave. All eyes turned to me.
“Is this true?” Loki asked.
Guiltily, I stuffed my hands into my pockets and shifted from foot to foot. Eris beamed, triumph etched over every inch of her craggy face.
“Well, Catherine?” she asked. “Do you have the chips?”
I met those gold eyes and poured as much of my hate into my stare as I could muster. And believe, me, I’ve saved up quite a bit for her over the years. I leaned over, resting both hands on the table. “What do you think?” I snarled.
As I straightened up, my hand slid back to reveal the three black chips, each with a gleaming golden apple at its center.
I wished I had a camera. Or maybe a painter. Fuck, I’d have settled for a caveman with a chisel. I never wanted to forget her expression as she saw her signature game pieces glinting in the light.
What little color she had drained from her face in an instant. As smoke poured out of her narrow mouth, I saw her chin quiver slightly. For a split-second I thought—and hoped—she would throw up.
“How do you like them apples?” I asked.
While the others hadn’t been privy to her plot, the gods knew Eris well enough to understand she’d been beaten. Laughter quickly turned into false coughing as the goddess glared at her poker buddies.
The dealer smiled with satisfaction. “All right. Now that this is settled, I think we’re ready to get back to business.” Sparing me a glance, he asked, “Are you familiar with hold ’em poker or should I explain so you can follow more easily?”
I knew the basics of the game. I’d even tried playing online a few times, but I wasn’t so good at the bluffing, even through the interwebz. Anyway, I knew the dealer gave each player two cards for their hand. With intervals of betting, the dealer would lay out five community cards. Whoever could muster the best combination using his hand and the community cards would take the pot.
