Chapter 1 #2
Incorporated into the design was a symbol of the realm. Above the seven was a crown with flames licking at its pointed tips. Built into the actual number was a sword overlaid down the spine of the digit, with the crossbar of the sword hitting at the center to create a European seven.
The resulting emblem was that of the Knights of Hell, demons called upon to become personal protectors to the Princes of Hell. The princes were more symbolic than having any true authority, but as with most archaic beings, we believed in statuses and traditions burned into the bones of time.
At one point in time, Knights were summoned into action to lay their lives down for Superbia’s royal elite.
Now? If war were to break out, there was no doubt they’d be a force to be reckoned with.
But in reality, the title was more of an honorific than a full-time job, a nod to an era lost to the past.
An LED scroll between the top of the doors and the casino’s logo obnoxiously flashed a message about a blackjack tournament going on this evening.
The grand prize was a quarter-million with a rare opportunity to double down.
My excitement ramped up at the potential to procure the rest of the funds I required for Tighe’s release.
That excitement immediately plummeted when the fine print popped up: “Invitation Only.”
Having heard the pervasive rumors about the house odds being skewed at Sevenfold, my interest was piqued despite myself.
House odds didn’t mean shit when you could read the outcome in advance of making the bet.
The odds of me beating the house were always one hundred to zero.
Precognition, even limited to short range, made me goddamn perfect, unbeatable, and simply an image of excellence at my craft.
Smiling to myself as I stared up at the sign, I knew there was no way this place had a chance against me. After all, I was the beautifully bold and extraordinarily talented Genevieve Bechette. This would be a cakewalk.
Walking inside, the joint didn’t take up the typical nostalgic feel that most casinos seemed to embrace.
There was an effort to bring a broody darkness to the establishment with a modern and upscale touch.
Black and silver were splashed all over the interior.
The tunes and sounds from the slot machines blended into the background noise, the faint scent of sweet cigar smoke lingered in the air, and shimmering fabrics hung from the ceiling, reminding me of rolling storm clouds.
Not even three feet into this place, there was a giant sign posted in the middle of the walkway.
It made clear in no uncertain terms that all use of supernatural or paranormal powers was prohibited.
Anyone found to be using said abilities would be banned and prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
Ha! Is the owner really that naive?
Good thing my precognition was untraceable. Who was to say I saw shit? I’d like to see them try to prove it.
Just beyond the warning sign, there were more aesthetically pleasing notices that politely directed patrons toward various parts of the casino.
It seemed Sevenfold had everything. In addition to the games on the casino floor, it was a host to nightclubs, restaurants, VIP lounges, and a slew of shops and luxury amenities.
Closest to where I stood at the front, you couldn’t miss the slot machines.
Less noticeable were the table games in another section further back, and according to the signage, an exclusive members-only area beyond that, and a Specialty Wager Room somewhere upstairs.
That last section was a new one for me. It left me questioning what type of betting transpired in that particular area.
I sauntered past the rows of slot machines, my fingertips skimming across the buttons as I got sporadic and brief glimpses akin to a strobe light in my brain.
Seeing which machine was going to strike the jackpot next, I found myself a bit surprised.
Most appeared to be duds, more than your usual electronic gaming device.
The rumors were turning out to have some merit, as these machines were going to eat far more money than average.
It looked like someone wasn’t being properly audited for proper win/loss ratios.
Tsk, tsk, Sevenfold.
Continuing to casually stroll through the casino, I made it to where the majority of the table games were located, each filled with people eager to lose their hard-earned money.
I paused and watched over a woman’s shoulder as she placed her last chip on the roulette table, opting to bet on the red thirty-six. The familiar tingle came over me again, and for a split second, I felt sorry for her when I foresaw the little white ball barely missing her desired target.
Without saying a word, I walked away to observe the other games being played, only vaguely hearing the roulette attendant shouting ‘black thirteen’ behind me.
Like I said, I’m never wrong. About anything. Especially when it came to money and family.
Seeing someone get up from the blackjack table, I recognized my opportunity to make a mockery of the house odds. I slid into the vacant seat and tossed my money onto the table to be traded in for a precious stack of chips.
Leaning back in the chair, I kept up my air of confidence as I used my mind to get a sneak peek at what was to come.
To the other players at the table, I probably looked like a young twenty-something who just came home from a semester at Brimgate University and didn’t know a damn thing about gambling.
My fair skin, which was graced with a splattering of some faint freckles over my cheeks and the bridge of my nose, often gave off the illusion that I was innocently gullible.
The way I dressed didn’t exactly give off the impression that I was particularly a high roller or one of Superbia’s class of wealthy snobs either.
The skinny blue jeans I wore had a few fashionable tears on the thighs, and my violet cropped tank stopped right at the dip of my waistline, leaving a few inches of my slim stomach exposed.
It wasn’t upscale attire, making me stick out like a sore thumb when everyone else looked dressed in their Apocalypse best.
A middle-aged woman with graying hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head sat next to me.
The crooked angle of her nose, skin spotted with subtle turquoise splotches, and the scent of seawater wafting off her suggested she was some sort of water creature.
She must have been desperate for money if she preferred this desert climate.
The woman looked me up and down before rolling her dull, milky eyes. They widened quickly, however, when I shoved half of my chips into the betting area.
“Oh, honey, you do realize that those are fifty each, right?” she said with pity at the assumption I was making a rookie mistake.
“Oh, really? My mistake!” I pushed all but two of my chips forward to join the rest of my funds. I flashed a cocky smile as I glanced sidelong at her.
The man on the other side of her coughed violently as his beverage went down the wrong pipe in reaction to my bid being carelessly increased.
Not wasting another moment, my talent was put to the test as I opted to hold my cards, which totaled to an abysmal nine.
The dealer unexpectedly busted.
One win for Eve, one loss for Sevenfold.
So much for rumors of terrible odds when it came to little ol’ me, huh?
I continued to work my precognition to my benefit. I won hand after hand, substantially growing my stack of funds.
Somewhere along the way, I felt a strange sensation along the back of my neck.
It came off as warm and welcoming, yet underneath that intense and old.
It was everywhere and nowhere along my body, like invisible fingers dancing over each and every inch of my flesh and licking deep into the marrow of my bones.
My hand lifted to trace my fingers over the side of my neck, unable to pinpoint the source.
Turning my head, I scanned the area around me, but nothing appeared out of the norm.
No pervy creepers staring me down or security guards lurking and ready to pitch me to the curb for breaking their silly rules.
But yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling of someone’s eyes not just glued to me but sinking deeper past the surface. I had somebody’s attention, and I wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse.