Chapter 9

Chapter9

The Hellions stopped before a spiral staircase blocked off from the rest of the hall with a velvet rope and a surly vamp standing guard. He unhooked the rope, and I was forced up the stairs through another door into a central atrium.

It was a breathtaking space with a soaring glass dome providing a mesmerizing view of the starlit sky. Multiple glass doors were thrown open to the night. Directly ahead through one of them, I spied the sleek jut of the prow. I breathed in the salty sea breeze. This yacht was more streamlined than I expected for a ship this size, but it allowed for a hell of a smooth ride.

There were far fewer people up here. Most milled about an enormous buffet table and nearby bar, while others conversed at smaller lounges within the atrium. One lounge overflowed with a lush garden, another glistened with multiple water features. They should have warmed up the large space, made it more personal, but look closer and you’d see the plants had a spiky, almost carnivorous quality, and the water in the small fountains thrust jets up in an aggressive rush instead of a soothing patter.

The closest lounge on my left—stern? port?—grouped hard-edged furniture around fire pits that didn’t emit any heat.

The back wall was two stories high, lined with rows of black doors that spanned the width of the ship.

Ezra stalked behind us. I didn’t hear his footsteps, but I sensed his brooding gaze trained on my back.

Outside, a flicker of silver scales reflected off the moonlight before disappearing under the waves with a quiet splash. I’d have rubbed my eyes, wondering if I’d really seen a giant serpent’s tail, but my arms were firmly held by the Hellions.

The vamps steered me up another smaller spiral staircase to the second floor and along the walkway to the fourth door. My female handler rapped twice.

I’d rather floss with a cactus than be confined with dangerous players while fumbling through an unfamiliar game with high stakes, but as there were no handy desert plants available, I’d have to see my plan through.

I steeled my shoulders and stepped inside.

“Ezra, pet. It’s been a minute.” One of the players from the hologram, the woman was of Chinese heritage, with a huge afro, a colorful kaftan, and killer jade-green heels. Some of the consonants in her melodic British accent were tempered like other Cantonese speakers I’d met in Vancouver’s Hong Kong community. She rose gracefully from a highly polished round table, but at his stony expression, she hesitated to approach him. “Alas,” she murmured. “Nary a trace of the Prime Playboy today.”

“Maud.” He gave her the briefest nod, then narrowed his eyes, tracking every detail in our surroundings.

The room rocked a “big game hunter on acid” vibe. All the chairs were upholstered in a zebra skin fabric. At least I hoped it was fabric. The gold ceiling held complicated glass fixtures resembling UFOs. No doubt they contained security cameras, but they also provided a diffused light that bounced off wallpaper featuring a colorful jungle scene, and along the leopard print carpet.

If the point was to induce nausea then good job, room.

One chair at the table was missing, allowing space for a female Hellion with pale green eyes and white-blond hair shaved down to a half inch to stand. The far end of the room was dominated by a fully stocked bar. A large flat-screen television displayed Monet’s waterlilies.

The two other players didn’t bother greeting us. A serious Black man in a pressed tuxedo held a pair of small white dice, looking impatient. The other guy hooked his thumbs into his red suspenders, fangs peeking out of his happy smile.

Since my blue flame magic didn’t work on vamps, I used it to illuminate any weaknesses on what I assumed were the two humans. Sadly, nothing showed up in my synesthete vision, not even the tiniest dot denoting a bead of sweat at their temples or rapid pulsing signaling their increased heartbeat.

Weird, since the Black man had clearly recognized the Crimson Prince. His eyes had narrowed with a slight wariness. He’d almost immediately gone back to an inscrutable expression, but I should have detected some lingering internal aftereffect of that emotion.

There were three possible reasons why I couldn’t read Maud or the man with the dice, none of them good. The first was because they were also vampires. If any or all of them were old enough to compel me, that would really suck. A compulsion wouldn’t affect rolling dice, but they could make me bet that I’d reveal my deepest, darkest secret or cluck like a chicken.

I shot Ezra a sideways glance. I’d rather tell the world I was an infernal than play chicken in front of him.

The second possibility as to why I couldn’t read them was if the serious dude and Maud wore shielding devices. These rare and expensive instruments wouldn’t do squat if a Red Flame decided to touch and torch them, but they blocked all psychological attacks on their person from Eishei Kodesh or vamps.

The final reason was if the pair were psychopaths who didn’t experience fear, guilt, or remorse. That didn’t exclude the other two reasons, though.

Look at that, a veritable “I’m screwed” buffet of possibility.

I had no shielding device, and not only was I battling my own emotions, I had to fight to keep Cherry’s in check because the danger of this place had juiced her up.

The Li’l Hellions shoved me into the chair between the Black man and Maud.

“A newbie and you already have two fine specimens manhandling you?” She batted her lashes at the two employees, flicking a gold lighter on and off. “It took me a whole month to earn that.”

Heh. I liked Maud. I mean, if she’d slept with, or worse, been romantically involved with the Prime Playboy, I’d still want to toss her out a fourth-story window, and she’d be out for blood in this game, but the woman had a great sense of humor. Too bad I couldn’t make my usual snarky retort friendship opener, because right now I was the destitute, thoroughly cowed operative in Ezra’s debt.

Full disclosure: it grated to be seated next to this stunning woman. It grated more that my discomfort stemmed from Ezra’s ability to compare and contrast us.

Fuck it. I embraced my strung-out, sweaty appearance. I excelled when other people underestimated me.

Ezra hovered behind my chair. Had he been human, he’d be breathing down my neck.

I was tempted to elbow him and get him to back off, but the Hellion stationed at our table, our banker, stared him down with her eerie pale eyes until he dropped into a club chair slightly off to the side, looking bored.

“Get me a drink.” He shrugged out of his Victorian-style leather jacket, leaving him in his vest and soft white shirt. Somehow that didn’t lessen his menace factor. “Rh-null. Chilled.”

Suspender Vamp laughed. “Not even the Copper Hell carries Golden Blood. Less than one in six million have that phenotype.”

“Would you like your entire bottle from the cellar, sir?” my female handler said.

“A glass will do,” Ezra replied.

The two Li’l Hellions who’d accompanied me bowed and withdrew.

I may have been gaping at Ezra keeping a bottle here at the Hell of incredibly rare blood that I didn’t know existed, but Suspender Vamp’s eyes bugged out like a cartoon character.

Ezra laughed unkindly. “That’s not a good look, Clyde.”

The other vampire flushed angrily, mottling his already ruddy complexion. Not an attractive addition.

Our vampire banker rapped on the table to return our attention to the game. “Caster, roll your Main,” she said.

The Black player rubbed his thumb over the dice, then balled them into his fist, shook fast, and released them in the shallow depression in the center of the table.

The dice clattered against the wood in an oddly soothing sound. I didn’t trust it for a second.

“My Main is eight,” he said in a French accent.

“Caster, place your forfeit.”

He unstrapped a gold watch from his wrist. Its face was cloudy, and as the player set it on the table, a chorus of whispers emanated from it.

I averted my eyes and tried not to listen.

“I’ll Nick,” he said.

All this was new terminology to me, so I repeated the words in my head, sussing out the meanings as best I could according to context. Unless Nick referred to a certain dice combination, it meant win, since the guy wouldn’t bet against himself.

“Players may bet,” the banker said.

Maud shook her head, flicking her finger back and forth through the lighter flame. I used to do that with candles when I was a kid.

“He’ll Out,” Clyde said. “I’ll forfeit my sense of smell for one hour.”

You could bet senses? What. The. Fuck.

The pale-eyed banker looked at me, but I shook my head. I wasn’t betting anything until I understood the rules. “Caster may roll,” she said.

He rolled a ten.

“The Chance is ten,” the banker said.

French guy rolled again and got a six. He rolled a third time and got an eight, which was his Main.

His face fell.

“Caster is Out.”

Clyde chuckled and snapped his suspenders.

Okay, apparently the Caster had to roll his Chance in order to Nick or win, but if he rolled his Main, he lost. He was Out. Did other numbers come into play? The six hadn’t.

A tiny magic whirlwind scooped up the watch that had been wagered, spinning it faster and faster until it cracked in a jagged line across the face.

The banker flicked the whirlwind away and handed half the watch to the vampire. The other half went into the slot in the table next to the banker.

The whispers grew louder and more agitated, the watch face now roiling with smoke.

Satisfied, Clyde grunted and stuffed his half in his pocket.

The male Hellion, now wearing white gloves, returned with a champagne flute of blood on a silver tray. He placed the glass on the side table next to Ezra, bowed again, and left.

Ignoring Clyde’s greedy stare, Ezra took a sip, rolling that first taste around in his mouth like a true connoisseur. Delighted that rare vintage pleases you, Conquistador.

“Play passes,” the banker said.

The Frenchman, sitting on my left, held the dice out to me.

I blinked.

After a few expectant seconds, he took my palm and placed the dice in it, as though I was a very slow and idiot child.

Ezra growled. “Hands off my property.” He didn’t compel the man. He was too young, even as a Prime, for that vampire ability to work on a person, but his command landed like a gavel.

The man dropped his hold so fast that my knuckles hit the table.

My achiness from the glamor and crossing through the portal was finally dying down, and now this? I shook out my stinging hand and shot Ezra a defiant glare.

Maud regarded me thoughtfully.

Whoops. Forgot to play meek and scared. Oh well, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing for them to see I had some fire.

Clyde jerked his thumb at me. “Haven’t broken this one yet?”

Ezra took another sip of Golden Blood, not deigning to respond. A power play in hemoglobin form.

“Caster, roll your Main,” the banker said.

I rolled a two.

Silence.

A two was no good, but an eight was okay? All right, there were parameters as to which numbers could be a Main. I rolled again and got a ten.

More silence.

Above two, less than ten.

I rolled a five.

The Banker looked at me expectantly.

“My Main is five,” I said.

“Caster, place your forfeit.”

I glanced at Ezra for some direction, but he simply watched me dispassionately.

Money was no good, and I didn’t have a magic artifact to wager, nor did I want to bet any of my senses or a body part. Talk about problems I never thought I’d face.

I squeezed the dice. Say that Maud and Frenchie were human and something happened that allowed me to illuminate their weaknesses, hazard wasn’t like poker, where I could read tells to get ahead. This was strictly a game of chance, so maybe my magic was the safest thing to bet. If I could bet a sense, I could bet my powers, couldn’t I?

“I bet⁠—”

“Forfeit,” Maud murmured.

My cheeks flamed. My newb status here at the Copper Hell was perfect for our plan, but I hated presenting myself as anything other than totally competent. “I’ll forfeit ten minutes of my blue flame magic.”

“This isn’t the kiddie table,” Clyde scoffed.

“Minimum one hour forfeit,” the banker said.

“I’ll forfeit one hour of my blue flame magic,” I said with forced patience. How on earth would they measure an hour’s worth? Should I lose, I’d be at the banker’s mercy to properly claim the wager. I had to trust that Hellion not to break me, mind, body, or spirit. I rolled the dice around in my clammy palm. “I’ll Nick.”

The French player spread his hands wide. “I’ll forfeit an hour of my life. She’ll Out.”

“Out,” Maud agreed. “I’ll forfeit an hour of my magic.”

She hadn’t specified what her magic was. I mentally slapped myself upside the head for announcing mine.

My annoyance must have been obvious because she smiled at me with no trace of malice. “Rookie mistake, pet.”

“She’ll Out for sure.” Clyde stroked his chin. “I’ll forfeit one hour of strength.”

Look at me, bonding the others in their conviction of my failure. I shook the dice vigorously and slammed them onto the table.

The first one stopped on three. The second die teetered. It looked like I might land the two and get my Main of five, which I hoped was a good thing on the first roll.

There was the faintest wisp of warm air and the die tumbled over onto the four.

“The Chance is seven,” the banker said.

I swallowed my incredulous laugh. Either Maud or the Frenchman had used orange flame magic to fuck with my dice, which made one of them human.

Orange Flames radiated heat into or out of things: people, a log, the air, anything really. They could force my body heat out of me to the point of giving me a lethal case of hypothermia, so I was lucky this one hadn’t attacked me directly.

Whoever it was hadn’t manipulated the dice when I rolled to determine my Main. Was that not allowed, or did it not matter what I declared, since cheating helped only once that first number was set?

I rolled again, hoping for lucky number seven, my Chance, but I got a four.

Expectant silence. All right, four was a neutral number.

Another roll landed me a three.

Clyde snickered. “She’s Out.”

Why? What the hell were the rules?

“Banker calls the forfeit.”

Before I could wrap my head around the fact that I’d lost, a slicing pain burned its way through my body, bringing tears to my eyes. Blue magic smoked off my skin, and I couldn’t catch my breath, unable to do anything more than bob along helplessly in the wake of the agony tearing through me.

The magic split into four streams. Two went into the other players, one went into the slot in the table next to the banker, and the final one went into a tiny dented brass box that the vampire had pulled out and opened.

The pain dissipated so suddenly that I practically flopped over face-first.

“How disappointing,” Ezra murmured and had another swallow of Golden Blood.

I couldn’t find an iota of concern in his icy expression. Sure, that would have given our subterfuge away, but… But what? I chided myself. Buck up and get your head in the game.

Ezra hadn’t chosen this table without a good reason. He was trusting me to use this angle somehow and further our investigation. He wasn’t making small talk with the others to gain information, so it had to come down to the forfeits.

I took a moment to catch my breath, spinning my Maccabee ring around, and letting my consternation show. Neither of us had any way of influencing the dice. The only thing we could use were forfeits and only if I won.

Clyde patted the box before placing it back in his pocket. “This’ll come in handy.”

I filed away the information that there were artifacts that allowed vampires to collect and use Eishei Kodesh magic.

The banker nodded at me. “Caster, roll your Main.”

I said a prayer and rolled the dice.