A nine of clubs. Henry Dashwood tapped his last two hundred-dollar chips together and stared at the dealer’s eight of diamonds. There had been a run of tens. Surely the streak would continue. Like every croupier Henry had ever known, the harpy’s hawk-faced expression was void of anything except challenge. Her golden predator eyes fixed on him. You know you want to. Get it over with. Henry could almost feel her contempt.
But a nine. The odds were in his favor. Henry breathed in deeply. He stood at the point of total ruin; once the bet was placed, it would be all down to chance. He felt that familiar rush of endorphins cascading through his body like sex, only better. It wasn’t winning he was addicted to—no, it was the chance of winning. Like making out, the thrill of the chase excited him almost more than the actual act. This was what he lived for. This was who he was.
Henry placed his last two chips on the table and pointed to the cards. Another nine, spades this time. That was good enough. He swiped his hand, indicating he wanted to stand. Eighteen. The dealer would need nineteen or better to beat him. The harpy slid a card from her shoe and turned it over. A four. She had to pull another card.
Make it a ten, make it a ten. His blood coursed through his veins as he prayed she would bust. This was the moment he lived for. The harpy’s hooded eyes betrayed no emotion as she turned the next card. An ace. She pulled from the shoe again. A two. Then a five. Twenty! A damned twenty!
With a tiny flutter of her ugly leather wings, the harpy leaned forward and scooped up Henry’s chips before he had a chance to react. Oh, sweet Gaia in heaven, he was broke. Flat broke. The sickness of loss hit his stomach in a wave. What was he going to do now? What was he going to tell Mary? How could he look her in the face when he got home?
Where were those sexy succubus waitresses? Now that the money was gone, he could use a free drink, but there wasn’t a single one in sight. They all knew he had no money to tip them. Those cookies sure were smart––and quick!
Henry plunged his hands into his pockets and pulled out some loose change and his phone. The money was all he had in the world. Just a few coins. Boy, he could use a drink. As he walked over to the bar, he tapped his phone and stared at his son’s number. He really didn’t want to make this call. John would crucify him when he heard, but Henry was fresh out of favors with his gaming chums, so no other door was left open to him. He bit his lip and called his son.
“Hey Dad, how are ya? Long time no hear!”
His son’s cheery voice stabbed at his heart. “I’m over at The Magic Tables.” He almost groaned the name.
The phone went silent. Not that John needed to say anything. Henry knew too well what he was thinking. He felt like a total schmuck. He was a total schmuck.
“Um, can you meet me for lunch? I need to ask a favor.”
There was a brief silence. “How much did you lose this time, Dad?”
“Can we talk about that when you get here?”
Another silence, followed by a sigh. “All right. I was coming into town to meet Fanny anyway. Sit tight and I’ll meet you in the restaurant. And Dad?”
Henry groaned on the inside. If there was one woman on this planet he couldn’t abide, it was his son’s half-goblin wife. “Yes?”
“Don’t do anything stupid.” The line went dead.
Henry switched off the phone and meandered past the slot machines toward the restaurant. Their jingling music taunted him all the way, reminding him just how much of a loser he was. Every time they rang out a win, he felt a little sicker. It had been some time since they had sung in his favor, and his life showed it. He had some loose change. He pulled it out and looked again. Maybe he could just drop a few dimes or quarters into the slots on his way to the bar? He popped his last three quarters in and pressed play. Three presses later, even what little he had was gone. He stared at the golden little cowboy on the Texas Hold’em machine and wanted to punch him. This just wasn’t his day.
A gorgeous succubus stood behind the bar. She had bottle-green hair and curves in all the right places. Her uniform, such as it was, was little more than a black corset, pulled tight around the tiniest waist Henry had ever seen. Her arms were heavily tattooed from her wrists to her shoulders, illustrated with acts of seduction he prayed his young daughters would never see. Her muscular thighs looked hard enough to crack a walnut. The look in her deep-sea green eyes initially said come hither, but after giving him the once-over, her smile faded a little.
“What’ll it be, lover?” the succubus said in a throaty voice so deep it made him quiver.
Henry scratched his head, suddenly wishing he could pull out a wad of cash to impress her. By Gaia, there was no way he could humiliate himself with a handful of pennies. John would stand for him, he was sure of it.
“A double Jack,” Henry said. “Heavy on the ice.”
“Cash or charge, baby?”
“Charge,” he said, with more confidence than he was entitled.
The succubus gave him a knowing look, but then turned on her charm. “Coming right up, big boy.”
The bar was mostly empty, apart from a smart-dressed man sitting just a few stools away. He had that slick, polished look that screamed professional gambler. He looked like a successful one, too, judging by the shiny signet on his pinkie and the sharp, tailored look to his Italian suit. Henry’s hand went to his chin, suddenly wishing he’d shaved a little closer.
“There you go, lover.” The sexy succubus dropped a beermat in front of him and deposited his icy drink on top. She leaned forward, treating him to an expanse of cleavage they both knew he couldn’t afford. “Rough day, sweetie?”
“Yeah, something like that,” Henry said. He downed a little of his whiskey, enjoying the ice-cold liquid as it slid down his gut to warm his belly. Funny how whiskey did that. “The cards didn’t favor me today. There’s always tomorrow, right?”
The succubus ran a long, polished black fingernail along his forefinger. “I’m sure there are other ways a handsome satyr like you could make some hard cash, if you wanted to. I know a few people.”
Henry gently pulled his hand away. Sure, there was a time he’d have been open to all sorts of possibilities. But that was a long time ago. “Thanks, hon, but I don’t think my wife would like it.”
The girl grinned, and though she pulled back slowly, he sensed she wasn’t done yet. Henry caught the look she shot to the gambler down the bar. Taking a long sip of his whiskey, he braced himself for trouble.
Sure enough, he heard the scrape of a chair and the man came over to sit beside him. Here we go, he thought. He prayed John wouldn’t be too long.
“May I join you?”
Henry nodded.
The red-headed gambler had a soft Scottish accent that was surprisingly pleasant on the ears. He had brought his empty glass with him. Reaching across the bar, he grabbed a fresh beermat before sitting down next to Henry.
“I’ll take another one of those gimlets,” he said, pushing his empty glass across the bar. “And perhaps another for my friend here, since he looks like he could use one. Make it a double.”
“Thanks,” Henry said. After all, a drink was a drink.
“Name’s Wee Angus,” the professional man said. He turned in his seat, offering Henry his hand. The man had bright blue, goat-slitted eyes. “But please, just call me Angus. I much prefer it.”
Henry groaned on the inside. Shit. A demon. Just my luck. Out of politeness, Henry shook the offered hand. Of all the magical creatures, demons were his least favorite. All that double-dealing made his head spin. “Hi. I’m Henry. Henry Dashwood.”
“Nice to meet you, Henry,” Angus said without missing a beat. He must have seen the groan behind the smile, but he took it in stride.
Occupational hazard, Henry supposed. “What’s with the ‘Wee’?” The broad-shouldered demon looked anything but.
“Oh, a wee joke,” Angus said. The succubus had arrived with their drinks, and the demon took a sip. “Ah, yes! No one can mix these like my darling Lucy.”
Lucy grinned from behind the bar. “You old flatterer, you. And you know you’re not supposed to use our real names. You’ll get me in trouble.”
“And you’d enjoy it, my love.”
Henry drained his first whiskey glass and started on his second. There was a warm tingle in his belly, and he was already feeling better. Perhaps his luck was changing. He glanced at his watch, wondering how long before his son would make an appearance. If the boy had a little cash on him, maybe he could still make something of the day.
“Busy afternoon?” Angus asked casually.
“Maybe,” Henry said. “I’m just waiting on my son before I hit the tables again. I just thought I’d have myself a quick breather before he got here, you know?”
“Och, of course,” Angus said. “There’s nothing quite like recharging your batteries, is there? So, your son, he likes a bit of a flutter at the tables, does he?”
Henry thought about John. There had been a time when his boy would stand beside him, although craps had always been more John’s thing. But Fanny had changed everything. The goblin-green hue to his daughter-in-law’s skin didn’t lie. That girl was a miser through and through, begrudging John even the slightest indulgence. Still, a slippery demon didn’t need to know that.
“It’s been known,” was all Henry shared. “Perhaps not so much now as in the past, but he likes the dice sometimes.”
“Just the one boy?” the demon asked.
“Actually, no.” Henry sat a little straighter as he thought about the daughters from his second marriage. “I have three young girls as well. And no, before you ask, none of them gamble. They’re all far too young and innocent for that.”
“Children?”
“No, my Elinor and Marianne are young women now. Little Margaret is still a girl perhaps, but they’re sensible, like their mother, Mary. They wouldn’t dream of entering a casino.”
Angus pursed his lips for a moment. “Satyrs? Like their daddy?”
Henry puffed out his chest with pride. “No, thank Gaia. The girls took after their mother. She’s a dryad. They inherited her genes, not a bit of mine. There’s not a wicked thought between them, and they have no nasty habits like their dad.” He couldn’t help but sigh into his whiskey glass as he thought about the one bit of luck he’d had in his life that had never gone bad. His second marriage to Mary.
When Henry put his glass down, Lucy was there again to top it up.
“It’s okay,” Henry said. “I really shouldn’t have another. My son will be here soon.”
“Nonsense,” Angus said. “And leave me here alone, at this gorgeous girl’s mercy? Och, I thought you were my friend, Henry. Go on, just one more can’t do you any harm.”
Henry was almost off his chair, fully aware Angus was trying to wrong-foot him with some demon thing. But Lucy looked so tantalizingly hot and, well, this was where he’d arranged to meet John. In any case, he had no money to settle that bill. He sat down again.
“All right, just the one. But if my son isn’t here soon, I’ll have to get going.”
“I never had kids myself….”
“Well, you’re a demon,” Henry said reasonably. “I didn’t think you were able to procreate.”
“Aye, technically, you may be right. But we love having a damned good go at it just the same.”
The two men laughed together, enjoying a moment of bonhomie. For a second, Henry put aside his suspicions.
“Ah, daughters. I think it would be nice to be a father, especially to wee lassies. That special look of adoration, the little bows in their hair, there’s nothing quite like it I imagine. Do you have a favorite?”
Henry laughed. “No, they’re all very unique. My eldest is the more sensible of the three. Marianne is a bit of a silly-heart, and Margaret has a head full of pirates and hobgoblins. I’m a lucky man to have three such beauties.”
“Boyfriends?”
“Ha, no, not yet. The girls are pretty, and I suppose it’s only a matter of time. But I’m their dad, so naturally I want to lock their hearts forever. Thank Gaia, they don’t seem to be easily tempted.”
“Och, is that so?”
Angus turned in his seat to face Henry. For a second, Henry thought the demon’s eyes flashed with fire, but when he looked again, he saw the same goat-like slits as before. Perhaps he had been drinking rather quickly. Maybe it was time to slow down.
“Are you all right there, Henry?” the demon asked, his voice rich with concern.
“Yeah, just a little lightheaded. I haven’t eaten much today.”
“Oh, would you like Lucy to knock you up a little something behind the bar. She makes a kick-ass goat curry, don’t you, Lucy my love?”
Lucy beamed. “Best in Ocean City.”
“No, no thank you, I’m fine,” Henry reassured them. He knew better than to confess any weakness to a demon.
Angus reached into his pocket and pulled out an open deck of cards. He started turning them one at a time, face up on the bar in front of him. Over and over he turned them, in stacks of four. It was a game Henry hadn’t seen before, and in spite of his better judgment, he began to follow along.
“Ah, well looky there!” The demon raised his hands in the air in disgust. “Lost again. I can’t seem to shake my losing streak.”
“I know the feeling,” Henry said. “The cards haven’t been kind to me for days.”
The demon bobbed his head sympathetically and continued to turn the cards. “This streak has followed me all the way from the Magic-Con in Florida. That’s one hell of a long time to be plagued by bad luck.” He sighed.
Before he knew it, Henry was totally absorbed by the cards, trying to riddle the game out. The demon turned up three aces and a two, but even that seemed to disappoint him, and he thumped the bar in disgust.
“Och, now would you believe it? I’ve lost again. This is just plain stupid.”
“I’m not sure I’m following,” Henry said. “Didn’t you just pull up three aces?”
“Aye, I did,” Angus agreed. “But the point of this game is to get the worst hand possible.”
Henry laughed. “I should be good at that game. That’s all I seem to get these days.”
Angus smiled and took a polite sip from his gimlet. “Fancy a wee bet then? To see who really has the worst luck?”
The demon opened a wallet that looked thick with notes. He slipped a hundred-dollar bill on the bar between them.
Henry knew he should say no. Gambling with a demon was perhaps the stupidest thing to do in both this world and the next, and he knew it. But the fire in his belly began to burn. Nothing in this world, nothing at all, was as alluring to him as the thrill of chance.
But what could he bet with? His wallet was empty, and Gaia knew, there was little if anything in his account at the bank. He looked at his watch. His dad’s silver watch was the only thing he had left of value in the whole world. Slowly, he pulled it off.
“Why not?” he said. He placed the watch on top of the hundred-dollar note. “Let’s do it.”
Angus picked up the watch and examined it. “That’s a fine-looking piece. Sterling silver, isn’t it?” He returned it to the counter. “Are you sure you’d want to risk losing something so valuable in some stupid bet?”
“Assuming I’d lose,” Henry said. He tapped his gut. “I have a feeling my luck’s about to change. What do I have to do?”
“Simple really. All you have to do is turn over four cards. Picture cards count as ten. Ace is high, eleven. Whoever has the lowest score wins.”
“Fine,” Henry said. Still, he wasn’t born yesterday. “Um, do you mind if I shuffle?”
Angus set the deck down on the counter. “Sure, be my guest.”
Intrigued, Lucy stood in front of them, leaning over the bar. Her feminine delights bunched together and almost oozed out of her corset top.
Henry tore his gaze away, took a deep breath, and shuffled. He dealt out eight cards and put the remaining deck facedown on the bar.
“You first,” Henry said.
“Sure.” Angus locked his fingers together, then cracked them. “Wish me luck, Lucy love.”
“You don’t need any help from me,” she teased.
Angus raised an eyebrow, but neither agreed nor disagreed. Slowly, he turned over each of the cards. A two, a jack, a nine, and a five. “Hmm. Twenty-six. Kinda blah. I’m sure you can beat that.”
Henry hoped he could. He stared at his dad’s watch, the adrenaline in his heart racing. This was what he lived for. This was what he did best. One by one, he turned the cards. A three, a four, a king, and a queen. Twenty-seven!
“Sorry, Henry.”
Henry’s stomach tanked as the demon pulled his dad’s watch toward him. Gaia, he was an idiot. His losing streak had never gone on this long. And now he had lost his dad’s watch. Mary would kick him from here to kingdom come when she found out.
“It’s a nice watch,” Angus said, staring at its face. “I think it’s worth a lot more than my measly hundred dollars.”
“Probably so,” Henry agreed, feeling sick. “But I have nothing else, so we’re done. Thank you for the drink.”
“Wait!” Angus said. “Och, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rub it in. It’s just I feel a bit guilty. I’m guessing this watch meant a lot to you?”
“You could say that,” Henry admitted. “But a bet’s a bet. You won it fair and square.”
“Very noble of you. But how about I give you the chance to win it back?”
Henry laughed bitterly. “With what? I’m flat broke.”
The demon smiled and placed the watch back on the bar. The idea that he could win it back pulled on Henry’s heartstrings. But what did he have to offer? His wallet was empty.
“Och, I’ll be kind and make it easy on you,” the demon said.
“Yes?”
“Aye. Lucy love, why don’t you hand me one of those lovely napkins I know you keep behind the bar? Oh, and a pen while you’re at it, love.”
Lucy smiled and reached down behind the bar. She came up with both the items requested.
“I’ll be happy to take an IOU. I trust you.”
“You would?” Henry’s eyes filled with hope. He really did want to win that watch back.
“Aye. I like you, Henry. As we say across the pond, you’re a good egg. Just blot your X on the napkin, and we’ll have another turn of the cards. I’ll even let you shuffle again if you like. It’s time your luck changed for the better, don’t you think?”
That Henry couldn’t argue with. He downed the last of his whiskey in a single swallow and stared hard at the watch. It wasn’t like this would be the first IOU he’d ever signed.
“How much do you want me to sign for?” Henry asked, taking up the pen.
“Och, I dunno,” Angus said thoughtfully. “You know, it doesn’t even have to be money. Let me think for a second.” He put his forefinger to his lips. “I guess it should be something you value, just to be fair. Something small though, something you can’t put in a bank. Something that’s not even yours, and that you wouldn’t miss if it was lost. How does that sound? Fair enough? I don’t want to take you to the cleaners, I just want to have a wee bit of fun. It’s not like I’m after your soul or anything.”
Hmmm. Henry’s hand hovered over the napkin. It didn’t sound like much, and heck, if it was something he wouldn’t even miss, why not? Maybe his golf clubs? He hadn’t played a round in over a year. Mary wouldn’t even notice. He licked his lips, enjoying the remnants of whiskey and wishing he could afford another. But another shot wasn’t part of the deal. He took a deep breath and signed the napkin.
“Och, this is exciting, isn’t it?” Angus said, rubbing his hands together like a hyper child. “You can deal again if you like. You turn over first this time. Maybe it’ll change your luck, eh?”
Once again, Henry dealt eight cards.
He turned over a four, a six, a three, and another three. Sixteen! His heart began to race. That was a super-low deal. Surely this time he was going to win.
He eyed his dad’s watch, imagining slipping it back onto his wrist where it belonged.
“Good one,” Angus agreed. “Now let’s see if the gods have been kind.” The demon turned the first card. A seven. A two. Then a four. Then another two.
Henry’s soul bottomed out. Fifteen! The damned demon had beaten him again! And by a measly one point!
Henry brought his head down, banging it hard on the bar counter. He didn’t care what anyone thought, he deserved the pain. He had bet and lost, and to make matters worse, he wasn’t quite sure what he’d gambled.
Sick as a pig, he lifted himself up just as the demon slipped his dad’s watch onto his wrist and tucked the IOU inside his jacket pocket.
“What do I owe you?” Henry said, his voice flat.
“Och, what was it I said? Something you value, wasn’t it? Something small you can’t put in a bank. Aye, something that’s not even yours, that you wouldn’t miss if it was lost.”
“And what’s that?” Henry asked.
A flash of fire definitely crossed the demon’s goat-slitted eyes this time. He smiled. “Your two eldest daughters’ hearts.”