Fallyn
Chapter forty-seven
Three more hands teased my nerves to their breaking point.
Bomba had almost knocked me out of the game, but only by the grace of Olympus itself and the smallest hint of my magic on the die did I save myself, much to his irritation.
The game was down to the wire, the entire tavern watching with bated breath as the house flipped the final three cards of the game.
The winner was about to be decided.
The malice in Bomba’s eyes, the deviousness, was how I knew something was amiss.
The charge in the air shifted, leaving the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.
When the cards revealed the tied game and a sudden death dice roll, not a single person in the Gilded Goblet dared to breathe. Highest roll would win.
Bomba’s laughter shook his gut as well as the oppressive silence.
“You ready little girl? You’re about to have the night of your life.
” His comment, his rancid breath, the hungry way his eyes raked me all made bile well up in my throat.
He made a show of flourishing the die, casting it with enough vigor it nearly tumbled to the floor.
I felt Ash tense behind me, his hand gripping my chair.
When at last it settled, teetering just shy of the table ledge, but still in play.
My stomach dropped; he rolled a ten. On a twelve-sided die.
His smile was even bigger than his odds of winning, leering at me over his grubby, smugly interlocked fingers. I took the piece of wood that was about to decide my fate. I flashed him what I hoped was a cocky grin, my best Ash imitation.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had a game this close, I’ll give you that.” I blew on the die rubbing between my palms, breathing on it for luck. A chill sparked in the air between us as both of us dipped into our magic reserves.
I tossed it, sending a prayer to Olympus once more as chatter erupted around the room.
Bets were being placed as if we were horses on the track, as we all watched the die move and spin about the table.
I saw the numbers flash, one, seven, twelve, three.
Before it landed perched on the edge of the table.
It landed on the number nine.
Bomba’s victorious laugh was immediate, but so was my magic. A stirring within the wood called for the die to fall to the floor.
“It’s a re-cast.” I grinned even as fear and nerves threatened to hollow out my insides. “It hit the floor. It’s a dead die.” I grabbed it again.
“That’s bullshit and you know it, bitch.” Bomba slammed his fists on the table. “You’re mine. You don’t even have a shot.”
“Then there’s no harm to you in letting her recast,” Ash said in a tone harsher than any I’d heard from him from behind me. “She’s the right to a recast.” Echoes of assent poured about the room, raising in volume. Milkovich especially hollered his support.
“Recast!” Milkovich clapped his hands together as he swiveled from one side of the tavern to the other. “Recast!” The tension and volume grew stronger with each clap, each chant, until it was a deafening, thunderous cry that even Bomba's couldn’t ignore.
“Alright, fine. Wench, recast your die.” He leaned forward so I could smell his foul breath. “But I’ll remind you that when you lose this, you’re coming with me.”
“No, you aren’t,” Ash whispered in my ear. “Cast your die, little shadow. I got you, win or lose.”
I glanced up, keeping my voice low, “Isn’t that dishonest?”
His eyes sparkled as his voice dipped low, his breath hot on my ear. “Like you’ve been playing entirely honest this whole time?” So, he knew. I offered a sheepish smile. “I respect the hustle, Fallyn. More than you know. I respect your battle. Now finish him off.”
With a renewed sense of belief, I cast the die.
I watched with my heart stilled in my throat, like a lump I couldn’t swallow as it cavorted around the table.
Watching the numbers rapidly fire by my eyes, I waited for my moment.
Seven. Ten. Two. Five. Just as it slowed over the number three, I pushed with my magic tumbling it once more.
Twelve.
The crowd that had accumulated arm in arm erupted in cheers, and Milkovich poured a beer over a raging Bomba’s head.
“You cheating little cunt.” Bomba’s fetid breath was more offensive than his insult when he got into my face.
“You belong to me! Mine! I will not be denied!
I'm Zeus-blessed godsdamn it!” I glared at him, my fists cocked.
Though, admittedly, I had no idea what to do against someone this massive.
His gut alone would act like a plate of armor, keeping me from accessing any part of him that was essential.
But my blade strapped to my thigh might work in a pinch.
My magic thrummed beneath my skin, as if reminding me of its willingness to aid me.
My eyes darted, landing on all the wooden things I could theoretically use in my defense.
The execution of it was an entirely different matter.
Bomba’s back suddenly met the solid oak and metal of the bar. Ash pushed me behind him, making a show of wiping his hands on his trousers. “You might want to offer her an apology, and give the man back his money as promised.”
Bomba spit on the ground at his feet. “Or what?”
“Or you’ll find yourself bereft of your ability to use your tongue.”
“Big words from someone half my size.” Bomba pulled a knife, sending the crowd scattering and scrambling away. Even his own henchmen retreated, shrinking into the shadows hoping to be unnoticed. “Are you capable of backing that promise up?”
Ash’s hand found the dagger at my leg and was drawn in a single breath. “Sorry little shadow, I want to borrow this.” He winked at me before turning back to Bomba with a gleam in his eye somewhere between feral delight and murderously angry. “You’re going to regret asking me that.”
It wasn’t even a fight. Ash didn’t even have the decency to look tired or even focused.
With every missed swipe of Bomba’s blade, Ash returned a jab from his open hand.
With every crude remark Bomba made, Ash’s feral grin waited in answer.
And when Bomba’s ribs were met hard with Ash’s black studded boots, he rolled to his side, wheezing at he struggled to find his breath.
Ash glanced at me where I waited with my hands covering my mouth.
Something about the intensity of Ash’s gaze chilled the blood in my veins.
“Ash, what are you doing?”
“Delivering on a promise,” he said as he straddled over Bomba’s screaming face. “It’s an important part of honesty.” Shadows moved and hummed, stretching from the darkest reaches of the bar and landing on Bomba. I could see him struggle, but not what he struggled against. I balked as I watched Ash.
“He’s not worth it, Ash,” I called to him, watching the shadows consume Bomba until I could scarcely see anything but his shrill, screaming face.
“He’s not,” Ash said, glancing over towards me as his shadows drew his prey’s tongue out against his will. His eyes met mine intently, making my stomach drop. “You are.”
Bomba screamed at the knife cleaved his tongue into a bloody, forked mess.
I wasn’t sure who screamed louder, him, or me. But I did know that between the blood and his anguished wail, this dark warrior with curious magic was far more deranged and dangerous than I’d ever realized.
Curse or no curse, even with a quick glance at my ink-touched hand, I didn’t care. He wasn’t safe. And I was not safe with him. Not in the slightest.
While Ash was looking down at Bomba, speaking words only for him, I turned to the door, fleeing.
I hadn’t noticed the bar had emptied, making my mad dash easier.
My shoulder hit the door hard, but the pain didn’t register.
I sprinted, turning the corner as fast as I could, leaving Ash behind and the hope of safety I was beginning to believe in with him.