Chapter 10

Chapter10

“My Main is nine.”

“Caster, place your forfeit.”

“I’ll Nick…” I clenched my fists in my lap, still feeling shaky from losing the last round. Obviously, I bet that I’d win, but what wager would cause the least damage to me in case I didn’t? No, that didn’t matter. What would be the best wager to ensure we left this room with a solid clue? “If I Out, I’ll forfeit a memory.”

That barely roused any interest in the others.

Losing one hour of my magic had been agony, and I couldn’t imagine how bad a memory might be. Would I remember it if I lost? I shook off my fears. This made the most sense as a forfeit, because if they did the same, I might learn something.

Except, this only worked if I won and could demand specific memories from them.

“Her memory will involve a topic of your choosing,” Ezra said. “Vice versa should she Nick.”

Points for being in sync with me and reframing it better, but damn. I’d have to be very creative with what I shared to fulfill the terms of the wager.

The silence went from vague curiosity to as loaded at Ezra’s statement as if he’d pulled a pin out of a grenade.

Maud set her lighter down on the table.

I twisted around with a snarl, intending to tear a strip off Ezra, because my undercover persona would never agree to that, when a needle thin probe invaded my mind, a command to accept the wager as stated.

This wasn’t Eishei Kodesh magic. That would have been either a blanketing of calm along with the certainty that this was the right thing to do, or an amped-up blaze of competition making me want to take any risk to win.

No, this focused, almost surgical directive was a vamp compulsion.

Cherry scoffed at it, which was interesting. I’d had a vamp compel me before, and I wasn’t able to block them. The demon magic was working in my favor. Finally, something on this stupid boat was going my way. Halle-freaking-lujah!

Ezra didn’t have compulsion magic, nor did he need to force me in this situation to agree.

So by process of elimination, that meant Clyde was behind the compulsion. Why? Did he want to show me something in particular or, more plausibly, did he want to learn something specific from me? About Maccabees? About Ezra?

My bet was on the latter.

“Does the Caster agree to the forfeit?” the banker asked.

“I agree,” I said placidly.

Maccabees received some defensive training in shielding our thoughts, provided we had time to prepare. No one would think to ask if I was an infernal. Regardless of whether they wanted dirt on Maccabees or Ezra, I could give them something that wasn’t too damning, but still satisfied the bet.

“Who’s willing to match the forfeit?” Ezra said. “Henri? Care to find out if she has information on Maccabee security protocols? That would come in handy in your line of work.”

“Bien sûr, if she does, but that’s a big if.”

“Her mother is a chapter director,” Ezra said.

Ice slid down my spine.

“We’d each get any memory we want?” Clyde said eagerly. “That’s three memories. Four if you include the house.”

“No.” I white-knuckled the dice. I couldn’t defend myself against that many memories being exposed. The odds that I didn’t hand over important Maccabee information, or out myself as a half shedim, were not in my favor. Plus, paying one forfeit had been excruciating. Four might kill me. “I don’t agree to that. You still need my agreement, right?”

“Yes,” the banker said, but she glanced at Ezra.

Seriously?

Ezra didn’t look perturbed by my outburst. Nor did he disagree. “You always were a greedy little fuck, Clyde. No wonder my father would have nothing to do with you.”

Clyde’s fangs descended.

Ezra raised an eyebrow.

The other vamp hissed, but when Ezra broke out a smile that would make the Grim Reaper ask for pointers, Clyde backed down with a grumble.

“The winners will agree upon a single memory,” Ezra said. “Should she Out, they’ll all get the same one.”

I let out a relieved sigh.

“Chances are good she’ll lose,” Maud said. Why, pet? Because you’ll mess with the dice and make sure I do? She was back to flicking her lighter on and off.

I winced because using a lighter too often hurt my fingertips. That woman must have mad calluses or a better class of lighter than the gas station cheapies I ended up with. Oh. Hang on. I clutched the dice tightly, their edges biting into my palms.

Sachie was an Orange Flame. She could light a candle with her magic but that required a ridiculous amount of energy. It was far easier to use matches. However, she didn’t like lighters either, because her magic made her fingertips even more sensitive than mine.

None of that told me what power Maud had, but it meant Henri was the Orange Flame.

The Frenchman leaned forward. “What are you playing at, Ezra? Why would you allow her to place this wager? How does it benefit you?”

“I have more important things to attend to.” Ezra put his jacket back on, the leather rustling softly. He’d armored up, though his strategy wouldn’t involve charging across the battlefield with a war cry. He’d hunt his prey patiently, in the shadows. “The sooner her debt is repaid and I wrap this up, the better.”

Good. Set the clock ticking and get them to agree.

“I don’t believe you,” Clyde said. “Why forfeit a piece that still has value?”

A piece? I ground my teeth together.

Ezra crossed his arms, his muscular biceps flexing. “Perhaps this will convince you that I wish to be done with her. Should she Out, she’ll be the forfeit in the next round. One month’s servitude.”

I gasped, genuine fear slicing through me, raising goose bumps on my arms. Would Ezra sacrifice me to find Calista’s killers? They’d stolen his chance at revenge, so now he’d take his fury out on them and damn whoever got in the way? “You can’t do that.”

“I can and I will.” He met my eyes with a flat stare that bore no trace of humanity.

For the life of me, I couldn’t tell if he was acting anymore. Desperate, I looked at the banker.

She stared back impassively.

I bowed my head and dug my nails into my thighs. The facts I had to draw conclusions from weren’t reassuring.

My ex possessed patience, stealth, and cunning, and he went to extremes to achieve his goals. Who’s to say I wasn’t acceptable collateral damage?

I certainly couldn’t.

I wasn’t surprised that the rest of them spoke about me like I was some object to possess, but how could Ezra behave this way? There was keeping up appearances and then there was cruelty. If I lost this round, not only would I have to share a memory, but he’d promised my servitude—or worse—as the wager in the next round. There was no rescinding that.

“Her debt is not as amusing as I anticipated,” Ezra said. “Either way, I want to be done with this.” He eyed Maud, a wicked grin breaking free. “There are much more entertaining things to occupy myself with later.”

“The Prime Playboy returns at last,” she said. “How delightful.”

I was numb, struggling to convince myself this was all an act and Ezra had my back.

The three players consulted among themselves then announced my forfeit would be my memory of transport procedures for taking dangerous Eishei Kodesh criminals to the magic maximum security prison in the Canadian prairies.

I felt ill as I agreed, but at least I didn’t know where the rest of the prisons in the world were. It was now my turn to state their forfeit. It was small consolation that it was my choice, not Ezra’s.

I could ask for their last memory of Calista. I surmised that some, if not all of them knew her or Ezra wouldn’t have picked this table to park me at. That was too obvious, though, given I was a Maccabee. It smacked of an investigation.

“You’ll each provide the detailed memory of your time today at the Copper Hell,” I said.

Henri frowned. “I’ve only been here an hour. That’s not much of a forfeit.”

“I’ll still get your valuable impressions on other players. I have a debt to discharge.” I didn’t bother to hide my sneer at Ezra. “The sooner I’m done with this, the better.”

He shrugged. “We’re on the same page.”

The other players agreed as well.

“Roll.” The command came from Ezra, not the banker. She didn’t chastise or correct him.

I grabbed the dice, digging deep into my self-control to keep my hand from shaking. It occurred to me that Ezra hadn’t used my name this entire time. Did it help him dehumanize me and forget we were supposed to be on the same team?

If I was truly on my own, then I had to save myself. Chance and luck would determine my roll, provided I neutralized Henri’s orange flame magic. I pointed at the carafe of ice water on the bar. “Can I get a drink first?”

The banker nodded, and I poured myself a glass.

I took a long swallow, then returned to the table, making a show of wiping my sweaty palms off on my loose pants. I was pretty sure that if I rolled my Main of nine that I’d win, but I didn’t know what the other numbers signified.

“Come on, nine.” I picked up the dice, shook them, and rolled, jostling the water glass in the process.

It spilled all over Henri, who jumped up, cursing. One Frenchman: officially neutralized.

Maud chuckled.

The dice came to a stop. Six and three.

Ultimately, if you didn’t have luck, you didn’t have anything, but tonight, the Lady was with me big-time.

I gasped and laughed out loud. “I Nicked. I won, right?”

“Caster wins,” the vamp banker agreed.

Clyde blurred out of his seat to lean over Ezra. “You did something to affect the dice. Bystanders can’t get involved.”

Ezra flicked him in the chest with his middle finger to make him move back. He didn’t have to do it hard, which was more insulting. “Like what, exactly? I don’t have orange flame magic to influence the roll, and no matter how fast I am, I couldn’t grab the dice and set them on nine without you noticing something stuttery about the dice’s movement. Did you? Did any of you?”

Maud and Henri blanched at Ezra’s menacing tone, but Clyde got sulky. “No, but she couldn’t have been that lucky given the memory she stood to lose. Arrest him.”

“The house senses no interference,” the banker said. “Banker calls forfeits.”

Maud, Henri, and Clyde looked vaguely ill. This was going to hurt.

Good, Cherry thought. True, I shouldn’t be the only one suffering. Too bad Ezra was getting off scot-free.

None of the three made a fuss. This wasn’t the lower level where players had to be bound and forced to comply.

The house collected all the forfeits at once. So long as I lived, I’d never forget their animalistic cries, or the blood streaming from their tear ducts and ears.

I parted my lips on a soft sigh and my blood pumped harder as I rode the high of collecting their wagers—their knowledge—the rush made sweeter by the losers’ misery and pain.

Information crashed over me: images of a dozen different games in sharp smooth colors flooded my mind, conversations played simultaneously like a six-track audio board in my ears, and the sour sweat of Maud’s last opponent clogged my nostrils.

The air took on an electric charge, while the carpet felt thin and hard like a chessboard.

The taste of blood filled my mouth.

Everything was a surreal swirl of emotion and past fragments, save for Ezra’s solid, unwavering image.

My body grew taut, strung like a wire up to the snapping point. A twang ran through me, then all of us were released.

Maud, Henri, and Clyde were pale and quiet.

Even Cherry was overwhelmed.

I couldn’t sift through all the information, nor was I allowed to leave until I played a third round of hazard. No one bet, so it was me against the house. I wagered losing my scent for an hour, but I won.

As soon as my third turn was over, I passed the dice to Maud, stood up, and saluted the others. “A pleasure,” I said snidely.

Ezra shot out of his seat and was gripping my elbow before I registered that he’d moved. “Time for you to discharge your debt.”

My stomach tightened with a peculiar mix of anticipation and dread. This was all part of the role he was playing, part of the plan I’d set in motion, but the intensity in his eyes made me question how much of it was an act.