Beginner's Luck: An Urban Fantasy Adventure (The Forsaken Mage Book 1) Page 18

  But I finally brought him all-in with a full house to his two pair, and he was good-natured about losing through the customary handshake at the end. And as the casino staff swarmed the platform to clear away the extras and move everything to the final table, I headed for my friends in the crowd. I hadn’t been able to talk to them since Titus brought me back at the last minute.

  They were waiting on their feet, with hugs and congratulations and tons of questions. I gave them a quick explanation of what went down as I looked around, noticing the absence of a certain redhead.

  “Where’s Zorah?” I asked.

  Arden gestured vaguely to the ballroom exit. “She was talking to some guy, and they went out to the casino a few minutes ago,” she said. “Said she’d be back soon.”

  I held back a frown. Hopefully, Zorah wasn’t out striking deals for souls, though I couldn’t really blame her if she’d taken an opportunity.

  “So, how’d your game go, Elias?” I said, making sure I didn’t sound too eager.

  The older man shrugged. “Lost to Joad, but I wasn’t surprised about that. I do wish that sleazy jerk hadn’t been at my table, though,” he said. “Wouldn’t have minded playing a few hands in the final against you.”

  “Damn, I’m sorry.” I clapped his back in sympathy. “At least you won’t miss the money, right?”

  He laughed. “What money? That was chump change.”

  The overhead loudspeaker cut in with an echoing click, and the noise levels in the ballroom dropped to a low buzz. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re pleased to announce the roster for the final game of this year’s Four Skulls Tournament!” Tiffany effused in a magnified voice. “Competing in the first chair is Balthazar Smith, a five-year resident playing in his second annual tournament.” As she spoke, the monitor screens around the room showed a photo of a dark-haired, dusky-skinned, unsmiling man with eyes the color of polished maple. “Last year, Mr. Smith finished third overall in the competition.”

  The crowd gave the obligatory cheer, and I cocked an eyebrow. “That’s a demon name if I ever heard one,” I said. Most demons only had one name, and half of them just tacked Smith on the end if they needed something for legal purposes.

  “And in the second chair,” Tiffany announced as the excitement subsided, “we have first-time player Seth Wyatt, a three-year resident of the city.”

  I might’ve been imagining it, but I thought the crowd cheered a little louder for me. I grinned and gave a little wave as the monitors flashed my ID photo, which was definitely not the best picture of me. But I didn’t mind.

  “Playing in the third chair tonight, we have Ivory Beach,” Tiffany went on after a minute, and the monitor screens changed to a thirty-something woman with flowing white-blonde hair and sapphire eyes, wearing a crooked smile. “Miss Beach has been a resident for nine years, and was the winner of the thirty-fifth Four Skulls tournament.”

  More loud cheering for Miss Beach. “She was at my table earlier,” Mist half-shouted over the commotion. “She totally killed it. Better watch out for her, Seth.”

  “Oh, I will. I’m watching out for everybody,” I said. Especially Joad. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that I wouldn’t be sitting right next to the bastard.

  “In tonight’s fourth chair will be Dario Lancaster, who is celebrating his fiftieth year as a resident of our fine city,” Tiffany’s fake-excited voice boomed over the speakers. On the monitors, a photo showed up of a smooth-faced, slender man with brown hair and hazel eyes who didn’t look a day over thirty. It made me a little uneasy. If he’d lived here for fifty years and looked like that, either he wasn’t human, or he’d sold his soul. “Mr. Lancaster is a three-time winner of the Four Skulls tournament.”

  “Does anybody know that guy?” I said as the crowd swelled into the expected cheering.

  “He’s all right. He owns the Curiosity Shop,” Elias said. “You know, that bookstore next to Cato’s? Lives there too, so he doesn’t get out much.”

  I nodded. It didn’t explain the way he looked, but if Elias vouched for him, it was good enough for me.

  “And competing from the fifth chair, we have Joad Baylor,” Tiffany announced. I thought her forced cheer wavered a little when she said his name, but I probably imagined it. As the weasel’s photo flashed onto the monitors, Tiffany continued, “Mr. Baylor is a six-year resident and the winner of last year’s Four Skulls Tournament.”

  There was a lot of cheering for Joad. Probably because everyone owed him money, favors, or both.

  “Well, there you have it,” Tiffany said when the crowd settled. “Our final game will begin promptly at nine. Players are reminded to be in their seats at least fifteen minutes before the start time. Any late player will be disqualified. And while you’re waiting for the big finale, folks, why not try your luck in the main casino? Remember, everyone’s a winner at the Chute.”

  There was a brief pause in the announcements, and I imagined Tiffany giving poor Jeremy the evil eye. Finally, he droned his bit into the microphone. “The UV’s biggest, brightest casino, where the fun never sleeps. Ask our staff about complimentary slot machine tokens for senior citizens, and don’t forget to—”

  A squawk and a feedback whine cut him off, and Tiffany came back through. “Thank you, Jeremy,” she said stiffly. “That’s all for now, ladies and gentlemen.”

  I chuckled under my breath. That kid was probably going to get fired sitting in the booth with Fezak, but I got the distinct impression he didn’t care one way or the other.

  “Okay, so we’ve got an hour,” I said as the talking in the room ramped back up, and the slow exodus began. “What should we do with ourselves?”

  “I vote for staying right here,” Arden said with concern edging her voice. “I mean, look what happened during the last break. Joad almost got you disqualified, and now you’re in the final. He’ll probably try something even worse.”

  Much as I hated to admit it, that was probably the best idea. I didn’t think Joad would succeed at whatever else he was going to try, but I also didn’t want to waste the energy thwarting him. I’d have to be at the top of my game for the final round.

  Just as I opened my mouth to agree with Arden, I caught sight of a flash of red hair swimming against the exiting crowd, headed this way.

  “Hey, there’s Zorah,” I said, raising an arm to wave. As she got closer, I made out the look of distress on her face and started to worry. “Excuse me for a second, guys,” I said as I started out to meet her, knowing she probably wouldn’t want to discuss whatever was wrong in front of people who didn’t know she was a Collector.

  She reached me and grabbed my arm like a lifeline. “Seth, I’m so glad you made it back in time,” she said. “What happened with that Enforcer, anyway?”

  “Not much. Joad tried to frame me for cheating, but Titus and I came to an understanding.” I looked back at the center platform, where the Enforcer in question still stood, watching everything. At least he wasn’t glaring at me for the moment. “But that’s not why you look like somebody walked over your grave, is it?”

  “No, it isn’t.” She glanced around briefly and moved in closer, lowering her voice to a near whisper. “One of the casino officials owed me a favor, so I got him to let me take a look at the tournament prize,” she said. “It is a luck pendant, but it’s not just that. There’s a very powerful enchantment on it. I couldn’t get a clear read, because my magic is … well, not as strong as it should be.” She cast her eyes down and released a short breath. “But I was able to read that the spell is specific, keyed to one person. Not human. And I think I know who because I’ve felt that energy before.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Please don’t say Joad.”

  “No, not him.” She pressed a trembling hand to my chest. “I felt it from her. Princess.”

  With her words, I felt Princess stir inside me. How is that possible?

  “I have no idea,” I said and repeated the question to Zorah.


  The reluctant Collector shook her head slowly. “I don’t know, either,” she said. “But if he wants it, I’m afraid …”

  When she didn’t continue, I put an encouraging arm around her. “What are you thinking?” I said. “Go on, it’s okay.”

  She shuddered. “Maybe the luck pendant isn’t the key to the lock,” she said, so softly that I almost didn’t hear her. “Maybe … he needs Princess to open the way.”

  My blood ran cold at the thought, especially since it carried the ring of truth. If Princess really was from the ruling class of alterspace, it was possible she could be the key.

  But Oberon would get his hands on her over my dead body.

  34

  Joad seemed a hell of a lot more confident than he should’ve been at the final game.

  He looked even worse than the last time I’d seen him. His eyes were bloodshot and bleary, the bags under them big enough to hold a week’s worth of groceries. Sweat pooled at his temples and dampened his collar, and his clothes had somehow gotten more rumpled. It almost looked like he’d been in a fight just before the game or something. The player next to him, the creepily youthful Dario Lancaster, kept inching his chair away and sending half-horrified glances in Joad’s direction.

  It occurred to me that I hadn’t seen Cayn at all today. The Collector probably should’ve been here, if for no other reason than to make sure Joad didn’t kill me and ruin his precious watch. But he was conspicuously absent, and I started to wonder if Joad had somehow put him out of commission.

  But whatever the rich little prick had been up to, it hadn’t affected his game. He’d stayed sharp and played hard, and after the first hour, we were down two players. Only me, Joad, and Ivory Beach remained at the table, and things weren’t looking too good for Ivory.

  The dealer had just laid the turn, and Ivory had first bet. I knew she’d connected with the flop since she looked away fast when the last of the three cards were turned over, which meant Joad knew it too. Now she was deliberating just a little too long on her bet, and I figured she was about to go all-in a few seconds before she pushed her remaining chips into the center.

  “The bet is five thousand, five hundred,” the dealer called out.

  Where Ivory’s decision had been too slow, Joad’s was too fast. He immediately counted out chips from his stash and stacked them in front of his cards. “Call,” he said.

  “Five thousand, five hundred to you, sir,” the dealer said as he turned toward me.

  I already knew my play, but I gave it a few seconds anyway. All I had was a lousy pair of fours with an ace kicker, and I knew Ivory wasn’t bluffing. I’d let Joad take her out since even if he took this pot, I’d still be up on him. “Fold,” I said as I slid my hole cards toward the dealer, and he raked them into the muck.

  Once I opted out of the all-in bet, Ivory and Joad turned their hole cards face-up. The community cards were two tens, a nine and a king, and Ivory held a pocket pair of kings, giving her three of a kind. But Joad had a ten and jack, so even though his three-of-a-kind didn’t beat Ivory’s, he could hit either a straight or a full house on the river. All he had to do was get lucky.

  Ivory went rigid and kept her gaze on the deck as the dealer went for the top card. “And here’s the river,” the dealer said as he turned the card over.

  Queen of hearts. Joad made his straight, and Ivory was out.

  There was a polite round of applause as the three of us stood, and Ivory turned toward me almost desperately, holding out a slim hand. “Good game, Mr. Wyatt,” she said in a voice that strained to stay even. I got the distinct feeling that she dreaded shaking hands with Joad, and I didn’t blame her.

  “You too, Miss Beach,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  I wasn’t sure why I’d apologized. Because she’d lost, or because I felt sorry for her with the impending formality of touching Joad. But my sympathy turned out to be misplaced because she didn’t even turn to look at him. Once she released my hand, she walked off the platform without a single word or glance at the man who’d knocked her out of the game.

  A faint noise of disapproval spread through the crowd. They probably thought Ivory was a poor sport, but they weren’t close enough to get a good look at Joad. Or smell him.

  He really was a complete wreck.

  “And we’re down to the final two players in the fortieth Four Skulls Tournament!” Tiffany bubbled over the loudspeaker. “There will be a fifteen-minute break, and then the game will resume. Players, please remain in your seats.”

  As the dealer walked away from the table to stretch and probably find a drink somewhere, I settled back in my chair and looked at Joad, who was studiously re-stacking his chips. “You know, I really hoped it’d come down to this,” I said. “You and me, having our own private showdown in front of thousands of people. You know, so you can’t cheat or try to kill me.”

  Joad raised his head slowly. His sunken eyes burned fever-bright. “You’re dead anyway, Wyatt,” he said in low, menacing tones. “With everything you think you’ve figured out, I’m surprised you don’t know that. He’ll never let you live.”

  “Who, Oberon?” I said, laughing when he flinched at the name. “Look, I don’t give a damn what old antler-head thinks he’s going to do. I’m not letting him win … and you shouldn’t either.” I leaned toward him, cringing a little at the smell, and lowered my voice. “They call him the conqueror king, you know,” I said. “And guess what he’s trying to conquer next?”

  Joad blanched, and a rivulet of sweat streaked down the side of his face. “Nothing’s going to stop that now,” he hissed. “If you had any sense at all, you’d take his side while you still can.”

  “You know what, Joad? I almost feel sorry for you,” I said. “But not enough to let you win.”

  He flashed a sneer, looking like himself for just a second. “You don’t have to let me, Wyatt. I’m better than you, and I always will be.”

  I let that one slide and sat back with a shrug. “Guess we’re about to test that theory.”

  We spent the rest of the break in silence, and I used the time to mentally replay the game so far. Knowing that the most likely scenario was Joad and me facing off at the end, I’d watched him more closely than the others. And he was good, though I’d never admit that to him. He’d bluffed successfully more than once, pulled off some pretty complicated long plays, and constantly switched up his tells.

  But I had picked up on a pattern, one he’d used at least twice, spacing it out so it wouldn’t be obvious. Twice when he bluffed, he’d check and call through the turn, and then bet aggressively on the river to force everyone else out. And both of those times, I’d folded before the river.

  At least, I was ninety-nine percent sure he’d bluffed those hands. In this game, it wasn’t mandatory to show your cards when you were the last player standing, and Joad never did.

  I’d taken the opposite approach and showed mine when I bluffed, just to make him feel bad.

  Finally, the break ended, and the game resumed. I had a feeling Joad was going to drop back and start running a conservative game, at least for a while, since he wanted to draw this out just as much as I did. So, I matched his style, checking and keeping the bets small, sacrificing a few blinds on early folds until I got bored and went aggressive.

  Unfortunately, Joad wasn’t bored enough yet, and he kept folding every time I bet big.

  We’d been at it for a tense half-hour when Joad apparently decided to make his move. Our stacks were running almost even, with his slightly higher than mine, and the size of the pot at the turn would either put me over his stacks or give him the first significant advantage over me. The community cards had a potential flush with three diamonds showing and a pair of sevens that could connect with pretty much anything else.

  Joad had first bet, and he raised me three thousand. It was the highest raise he’d made since Ivory was played out, and it left me to decide whether he was bluffing. Considering the extremely conservative pla
ys he’d been making, there was a strong likelihood he’d connected. The flush was the most obvious, but I wasn’t holding any sevens so he might have trips, a full house, or even quads.

  I’d already made the flush with two diamonds in the hole, ace and king, which also gave me two pair with the community sevens and my ace, matched with the ace of hearts on the table. So if the river gave up an ace or a seven, I’d have a full house. But even if the river didn’t pay, the flush would beat anything but quads.

  He wasn’t bluffing, but the risk was acceptable. “Call,” I said, counting out three thousand in chips to push in.

  Joad didn’t react to my play, and he didn’t raise. The dealer turned over the next card and revealed the seven of spades. Trips on the table raised the odds that we’d both made a full house but also meant that Joad could’ve drawn four of a kind.

  He checked the bet, his expression utterly neutral as his eyes met mine and stayed there. He was daring me to raise. But I had a good feeling he hadn’t made quads, and if he had a full house, my aces would probably take it. Unless his pair was aces, too.

  I decided to let it stand, and laid my cards down.

  Joad stared at my ace and king for half a second and then flipped his hole cards calmly. He had the fourth ace and a queen. Which meant my king kicker took the pot.

  The crowds applauded as the dealer pushed the chips toward me, and I organized the stacks and watched my opponent. His blank expression remained, and beneath it, he was either supremely confident or terrified. I honestly didn’t care which one. I had almost five thousand on him now, and I planned to take it all.

  As the next hand started, I picked up on the pattern I’d noticed before. If I checked, Joad checked. If I raised, he called. He didn’t play with his cards, fidget with his stacks, or look around the room. In fact, he barely moved at all.