A New Man

The starting pistol fired and the gates sprung open - the greyhounds lurching out of the blocks and down the track, chasing after the little electric bunny attached to the rail. Francis leaned on the barrier and watched - he had 50 dollars on Speeding Bullet but, according to the fixtures, it was pretty much a sure thing … so his return wouldn't be that big. Still - money for nothing. He was going to need that.

Sure enough, seconds later, Speeding Bullet's nose touched the finishing line and she dashed into first place. Francis shuffled off to collect his winnings, and then took his paper back to the stands to start perusing where to place his next bet.

As he kept his head down and studied his paper, he became aware of someone watching him; the hairs on the back of his neck rose and he felt the familiar shudder between his shoulder blades that was a sure sign of being under silent, unwelcomed scrutiny. Slowly, he looked up to see who it was that was staring at him. He was just one man in a place scattered with lone men - no one should be finding him that fascinating. And yet someone did.

It was a man - standing about ten feet away - wearing a trilby pulled down so low it met his eyes. Francis looked at him - making his own gaze hostile, telling this other man, silently, to back off. But, instead of doing so, the man took the eye contact as an invitation to come over. He walked up to Francis, leaned on the stand in front and stared down at him. 'You're new round here, right? Not seen you before.'

Francis frowned. 'Uh - right.' He looked back down at his paper, hoping to shut the conversation down. But the man wasn't taking the hint. In fact, he actually peered right down to look at what Francis was reading. 'Ah - see - I can tell you're new. You're still playing it safe. How much did you just win on the last race?'

'30 dollars,' Francis told him, his voice laced with irritation, 'on top of what I put down.'

'Yeah - that's not much in the way of profit. You gotta think big to win big.'

Francis looked up again and tutted. 'I'm guessin' y' gotta think big to lose big as well, am I right?'

The man conceded the point. 'Well that's why they call it gambling. But if you wanna win big - I got a tip for ya.'

'Yeah - what's that?' His voice was hard. He didn't trust this guy or know why he had singled him out to talk to.

'Next race - PB and J - you'll win big.'

Francis scanned the fixtures until he found the dog in question. 'It's on 15 to 1 odds,' he said when he found it.

The man shrugged. 'Like I said - think big to win big. I've heard good things about that one. Real dark horse.'

'Thanks - I'll think about it,' he said, not really meaning it. He picked up his paper and walked away, heading back to the booth to lay down his next bet, intending to put his money on the clear favourite. But when he got there … filling out the slip … he found himself ignoring what the paper told him and going with what the man in the hat had suggested instead. He didn't quite know why. Everything told him it was a bad idea - accepting tip offs about dog racing from shady strangers in hats, there was clearly no good that could come from doing something that stupid. The man could be dangerous. Could want something in return ... But he did it anyway. Maybe it was the demon in him, determined to be as stupid and as destructive as possible.

'30 dollars on PB and J' he said to the bookie, handing across his money and his slip. That wasn't too destructive, he tried to assure himself - it was only gambling with his previous winnings so, if it went the way everything in his life seemed to go these days, he wouldn't have actually lost anything. And if the tip came to nothing, the man in the hat couldn't want anything from him.

Once the bet was laid, he headed back down to the track and waited. A while later, the pistol sounded and the dogs lurched out - just like last time. This time, however, Francis felt much more nervous, much tight around his chest. Last time he had expected to win, but not win much - this time he was flying blind and either about to lose or win big. He wasn't sure which would come as the more welcome relief, still not knowing what debt he would find himself in if this tip paid off - and yet, as the dogs rounded their first corner, he felt a sudden surge of adrenaline.

'Come on PB and J' he suddenly heard himself yell, his hand curled into a fist and thumped the top of the barrier - completely unbidden by his mind. 'Come on girl!' The dogs rounded the last corner and ran down the straight - and Francis found he was holding his breath. PB and J was catching up with the animal in the lead. Her nose was at its shoulder, then her front feet were level with its front feet - and then she was ahead by a nose - and then she was across the finish line. He had just won 450 dollars.

'Yes!' he pounded the barrier with his fist. 'Yes! Good girl!' And then he was suddenly aware of the man in the hat standing right by his shoulder. He stiffened up, wondering if there was going to be a price to pay. 'So - I see you took my tip, after all.'

He turned his head to look at him. 'Yeah … I guess. Thanks. That was … it was some tip. Why did you tell me?' His voice took on a wary edge, 'what do you want?'

The man smiled. 'Well - you gotta help a brother out when you can see he's struggling.'

Francis frowned, not understanding. That wasn't the answer he was expecting. 'What do you mean?'

'You're not human are you?' The man said, and Francis felt his stomach turn to ice. But the man didn't seem to notice, kept on talking. 'You're passing - same as me.'

'Passing?'

The man lifted his hat - ever so briefly - to reveal two pointed little horns protruding from his brow. 'In a world of humans - demons gotta stick together. There's a lot come here - like him,' he pointed at another shady looking man across the track from them, 'and that guy over there,' he pointed at someone else up in the stands.

'Demons?' Francis choked out, glancing between the two men just pointed out to him. This wasn't what he wanted to hear, he didn't want to know that he was recognisably non-human, or that he was surrounded by other non-humans just like him. Just like him. The very thought filled him with shame. Though at least this man didn't seem to want anything from him but to be friendly. It seemed like - demon or not - gambler or not - this guy was safe. And that was the kind of break that Francis was not used to getting. Not any more anyway. 'There are demons here?' Francis asked.

That made the man laugh. 'Sure thing. We gotta make money somehow in a world that don't recognise us. You're not the first to have this idea, buddy. Demons are everywhere - once you know what to look for - hiding in plain sight. Just like you. 'Course - we don't always hide, plenty of places for us to go where the humans don't bother us. You ever been to a demon bar? Or a poker ring?'

'There are demon poker rings?' Francis asked incredulously.

'Sure! We gotta keep that cash flowin' … although,' he coughed, 'not all the currency is cash - you play poker?'

'Well yeah - but -'

'Great! I can hook you up with some guys. Really there's a whole world out there - your life will be a lot easier if you're a part of it. Better than keeping all alone anyways - safer too … providing you're careful.'

'Ah - careful of what?' Francis asked nervously. The man shrugged. 'Well - you know, some demons are stone cold killers. You get on the wrong side of some of them and you can wind up a dead way of lookin'. And if you get into debt … well, these are not guys you wanna owe money to. But if you're careful … this is the only way to survive in a world that hates you and doesn't recognise your existence. The world of humans is a cold place for the likes of us - always gotta be looking over your shoulder, making sure the mob isn't after you with their pitchforks. Sometimes it's nice just to pitch up to a bar and order a shot of yak urine in a place that don't judge.'

'Oh - uh - I don't drink - you know - urine,' Francis said uncomfortably.

The man laughed again. 'Well they serve beer too. You really gotta get out there. Embrace the life. It's who you are. I'm Kizzie by the way,' he held his hand out to shake.

Francis took it, his lips drawing back to form the F when he suddenly changed his mind. 'Doyle,' he introduced himself. 'I'm Doyle.'