Chapter Thirteen
Luck Is Not a Lady
Las Vegas
I stand to my full height, which puts me a bit below eye level with the stranger. The small white ball remains in my hand, but my attention is entirely on this larger-than-life presence. He cuts us a grin, and my mind flashes to an alleyway in the OtherWorld. I’ve seen that menacing smile before.
“Who are you?” I ask immediately.
A toothpick dances between his teeth, moving from one side of his mouth to the other. He plucks the ball from my palm with nimble fingers before I can react, and the moment he does, the space between us shifts.
A roulette table now stands between us that most definitely wasn’t there a second ago … was it? Did I not notice?
The green felt looks worn under the casino lights. The wheel sits perfectly balanced, with numbers in red and black and those two zero spaces in green.
I glance at Kane, who seems equally cagey and confused. “What is this?” he asks, gesturing to the table between us.
“I’m the house croupier,” the stranger says, tossing the white ball from one tattooed hand to the other with practiced ease. “Roulette is my game. Care to take a spin?” His grin widens. “You never know what you might win.”
“Or what we might lose,” Kane says, resting his arm on my shoulder. “Come on, Asher. We need to report back to Rue. Gerald has crossed; we’re done here. We don’t have time for this.”
I silently agree with Kane and turn away from the table.
“Where’s the portal?” I ask.
Before Kane can answer, the man behind the gambling table in the ridiculous outfit speaks again. “Come now, my doves. How long could one spin of the wheel take? A minute? Maybe two? You’ll be on your way in no time. What’s a couple of minutes when you’re staring down the road of eternity?”
My doves.
“What did you call us?” My voice comes out low and dangerous.
The dove, a gentle but fierce bird. The perfect nickname for my Maddy and one I haven’t heard used in far too long for that to have been a coincidence.
“I called you my doves,” the stranger says innocently, spreading his hands. “A pair of pretty little birds that are about to fly away. Just made it up. I know, it’s clever, right? Do you like it? Of course you do.”
“I saw you before,” I say, moving closer to the table. “In an alleyway.”
“I’m often around but rarely seen.” He examines his fingernails with theatrical disinterest. “My influence is heavy, though my steps featherlight.”
“Who are you?”
“You’ve asked me that already. Time’s too short to repeat yourself, reaper.”
He makes a ticktock noise with his tongue, and I feel my fists beginning to clench.
“Then answer the question, Magnum, P.I.,” Kane chimes in with some noticeable growl in his voice.
I rear back and stare at Kane in shock. “Did you just make a 1980s TV show reference?”
Kane remains neutral as he continues his forward stare. “Tom Selleck is a treasure. Am I not allowed a break in my downtime?”
“Hey, no arguments here. Just surprised.”
“We contain multitudes, Asher.”
“Indeed, we do, mate. Indeed, we do.”
The stranger breaks into our back-and-forth with a hint of annoyance in his tone.
He pulls his glasses from his face and tosses them onto the green felt.
His eyes look like miniature wheels, spinning slowly in a swirl of red and black.
“As charming as this meeting of the minds is, I am a busy man. Are we playing or what?”
“Not until you tell me who you are,” I say, gripping the edge of the table. “The nicknames, the book title you referenced in the alleyway … you know something.”
“I know many things.” He leans forward, bringing us nearly face-to-face. “But most importantly, I know that, sometimes, no amount of preparation can protect against the random, no amount of planning can prevent chaos, no amount of wisdom can overcome the beautiful mystery of a moment of mayhem.”
“How very alliterative,” Kane drawls.
“And vague,” I say angrily. “Answer the fucking question. What is your name?”
“That’s not an easy question to answer, I’m afraid.” He straightens, spreading his arms wide like a showman. “I go by many names. Luck. Fortune. Opportunity. Serendipity. But most people, my family included, just call me—”
“Chance,” Kane finishes for the stranger.
“Well done, Frenchman.” He claps his hands together.
“You’ve got it. That’s me. Chance. At your service.
” He bows with exaggerated flourish. “Or disservice, depending on where the chips fall. Not really up to me—or anyone for that matter. And of course, the outcomes are always a matter of perspective. One man’s loss is another man’s gain—know what I mean? ”
“Stop speaking in riddles. What are you doing here?” Kane asks the question on both our minds.
“I just mean that misfortune for one often spells good luck for someone else. The scales are always balancing and rebalancing.” Chance picks up the roulette ball, examining it as if it holds the secrets of the universe.
“Fortunes shift. Fates change. Someone wins … and someone loses.” He looks up at me, his two-toned eyes gleaming.
“Just ask Alister Sullivan—am I right, Tommy?”
At the mention of that man’s name, my body moves on pure instinct.
I lunge toward the interloper and grab him by the front of his floral shirt.
With one swift tug, I pull him down toward the table with a crash.
I reach for his throat, spin him, and pin him against the felt.
My hand squeezes, hatred radiating through my entire being.
“Keep that name out of your fucking mouth,” I growl while squeezing. “Or they’ll be the last words you ever speak.”
“Asher,” Kane warns. “Let him go. Now.”
I do not, but as I glare into the eyes of the man I’m holding down, I notice he is not straining. When he speaks, there is no distortion in his voice, as if the hand I have wrapped around his throat has no effect on him whatsoever. It’s unnerving.
“You should listen to your friend.” His tone is almost amused. “I don’t mean you any harm. I don’t ever mean anyone harm.” He pauses briefly. “Just the way it works sometimes. Things happen; people get hurt. Chaos doesn’t pick sides.”
My grip on his throat softens. The tension in the muscles and veins of my forearm lessen, and I release my hand, rolling it at the wrist.
Chance sits up slowly, adjusting his shirt with exaggerated care, smoothing out the wrinkles I created. “There we go. Much better. Now we can have a civilized conversation like reasonable entities.”
“What do you know about my life?” The words come out hoarse.
“Everything, Thomas. My family and I keep a close eye on all the stories. The interesting ones anyway. And yours?” He whistles low. “Yours is a real page-turner. Tragedy. Romance. Betrayal. Murder. You’ve got it all.”
“Who’s your family?” I ask, confusion and frustration swirling.
Chance’s grin turns sharp. “Time and Fate. And Mercy.”
“The Sisters,” Kane breathes. “You’re their—”
“Brother. Quite right, Frenchman. I’m the one they love to hate. The only boy in the family. Never got any bathroom time in the house, growing up. You can imagine the drama, but I’m over that.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Now I’m simply the one they ignore. The bastard of the family.”
“You do seem like a bastard,” I mumble.
“I meant literally. Daddy got a little friendly after my Sisters were born. Raising irritable celestial deities can be quite taxing on everyone. He needed some stress relief. Anyway”—he claps his hands together—“that’s a story for another time.
I’m here for you, Forge Fire. I have some exciting news. ”
Chance stops speaking, clearly waiting for us to bite.
Neither Kane nor I chime in. The silence stretches, and it begins to infuriate me.
“I was waiting for some encouragement,” Chance says, his tone carrying exaggerated disappointment, hoping to build the dramatic tension. “You two are absolutely no fun.”
More silence.
“Fine. Tough crowd.” He sighs dramatically. “Anyway,” Chance says, drawing out the word, “did you know that Madeliene Whitcomb is in the OtherWorld?”
The world stops.
Everything stops. The casino noise fades to static. The lights blur. The thoughts in my head cease their movement and are replaced by one singular name. A name burned into my heart. And I’m afraid that’s more literal than I’d like to admit.
Kane looks my way. The expression on my face must tell him all he needs to know. “Asher, is that …” He does not need to finish the question.
“Where is she?” The words rip out of me, desperate and raw. “Can I see her? How do you know? When did she cross? Is she—”
“One thing at a time, Asher. Patience.” Chance finishes adjusting his rumpled shirt and smooths the playing surface in front of him.
“Now, as I’m sure you’re both aware, souls from the mortal realm are not meant to reconnect in the OtherWorld.
Entity efficiency degrades when souls have personal attachments.
” Chance rattles off the sentence as though he’s reading a book from memory.
“Big D and the OW Corporate higher-ups have some really strict rules about post-life relationships, but you know what they say … rules are meant to be broken. So, I thought I’d share some insider information with you, if you want it. ”
“Where is my Maddy?” My voice cracks on her name. “I’d give anything to see her again.”
Kane clears his throat. “Asher, be careful,” he warns. “We don’t know if we can trust him.”
“Oh, you absolutely can’t.” Chance laughs cheerfully. “I’m very fickle. COMPLETELY unreliable. My allegiance changes with the wind. But when I’m on your side?” He gives me a wink. “Best to ride me out as long as you can.”
“Tell me where she is.” It’s not a request or a demand. It’s a shameless plea.
“The Bliss.” He shrugs.
No.
No, that’s impossible.