Fallyn #2
What nobody here knew was that Thaddeus’s father taught us, Rowena, and Dess this game when we were ten. On the rare occasion one of them beat me, it was cause for celebration.
Game on.
Bomba started by picking three cards facedown from the deck.
The house cards that built the game. He flipped them, showing the runner cards being a jester, a cock, and the stars.
All neutral, unassuming cards. I could elect to roll the die and attempt to turn the stars into a constellation to bolster my hand, but I worried about how obvious that would be.
I had absolutely nothing. I had the corpse card and the pumpkin.
Together, I may as well have had two piles of shit.
I watched my opponent, searching for tells. Narrowed eyes, licking lips, a twitch in his neck, rolling his shoulders, fidgeting his hands, but he displayed none of the usual signs of nerves.
He sat calmly, if not arrogantly, before sneering at me.
“What’s the matter, toots? The cards weren’t as kind to you as you’d hoped?
” I gave him nothing, simply gesturing for him to complete his turn.
“I’ll roll for advantage,” he showboated, clearly content at the moment, making a spectacle of picking up the die and tossing it to the table.
I felt it—the distinct sensation of chill that accompanied magic—an exchanged glance with Ash confirmed he felt it too.
A cheer erupted from his side of the table, bringing my focus back to him and I felt my stomach plummet.
He’d rolled a seven. A number considered lucky, giving him command of the table and allowed him to pick one single card from the deck to strengthen his hand before ending his turn with a smirk.
Ash looked intent as he stared at me, as if willing me to know this male’s cards but being unable to tell me.
And it wasn’t like he could implant thoughts or visuals into my mind, a magic I couldn’t wish for more in this moment.
I sent up a prayer to Tyche for luck before beginning my turn.
I drew, resisting the urge to sigh in relief.
The sun card, essentially a trump card that would veto most nasty surprises he might throw my way.
Should I bother with the die and roll for advantage?
For a boon card like Bomba has? Or to boost the stats I already held?
If I did and I rolled less than seven, the consequences could be severe.
Losing cards, forced to rehand, if I rolled a one it was instant death.
Three more hands. With shit cards and a cheating motherfucker. I had no choice.
“I’ll roll for advantage.” My hand wavered over the die as I rolled it in my hands, feeling the smoothness of the wood…. Wood.
That was it.
Bomba had the magic of air; I had the magic of the earth and all that was in it—including wood.
If he wanted to play dirty, I could too.
I never had before, but I sure as the Underworld itself would not lose this match.
Not when that man’s money—and my own bodily autonomy—rode on this.
Even now Milkovich was only sort of conscious, his eyes aware only some of the time.
The barkeep dabbed a cool, damp cloth over his swelling orbital.
I cast the die and I felt the moment his magic zoned in on it.
The telltale chill of the air, feeling like taking one breath in summer and the next in the crisp fall before coming back again.
So subtle, those without magic normally wouldn’t notice.
Placing my hands on the table in an effort to look invested—not hard to do given the circumstances—and waited for my own moment.
I had to time it perfectly. I saw the number one flashing my vision and I clenched the table edge hard enough to make my knuckles blanch—the first visible sign of my distress which Bomba certainly did not miss.
If I timed this wrong…
Just as he used his magic to settle on the number one, I used the wood of the die to propel it one more turn.
An eight.
I blew a breath of relief as murmurs of surprise echoed around us.
This allowed me to discard my current hand for a new one.
I did it. Bomba looked incredulously from the die to me, realization of what I’d done dawning on him immediately.
I smirked, watched as his face shifted from confusion to sputtering anger as he leaned forward to address only me.
“I know what you’re doing.” His breath was foul on my face. I smiled as innocently as I could manage around the cringe.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.
I just got a lucky dice roll, same as you.
I leaned back in my chair. I discarded my current hand with a sigh of relief and drew two more once again.
As much as discarding the sun card hurt, there was another card that made my heartbeat spike.
Hades was a trap card that assured mutual destruction of both parties.
Essentially if this card came into play in any way, the game would end with no winner.
I had a feeling that would go over about as well as Zeus telling Hera of his infidelity.
Ash stared at the card, huffing a laugh, a joke I didn’t understand.
My other card wasn’t bad either. The warrior, a card depicting a swordsman swathing through his enemies.
If I rolled a high enough advantage, this could turn the game in my favor.
“Play your way I guess, little girl. Just know that when you lose, there is nothing of this realm that will save you from me.”
Ash growled over my shoulder, his hand coming to rest protectively just behind my shoulder as he leaned on my chair, a threat and a warning in one moment.
Those around him shifted away, opting to give the male space as if he were a demon.
Even the air around us shifted away in deference to him.
Bomba paid him no mind as he glowered at me from over his cards.
“Are you going to play your hand at some point today?" He leaned in, his smell getting stronger as his shadow fell over the table, "Or are you just stalling?”