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Jeux de Hasard - Part 5

Jules could feel his heart pounding in his chest. His mouth was dry and Lady Bella's fingertips brushing his neck were bringing a flush to his cheeks. Not wanting the distraction, he turned his head to ask her to stop, but she flashed him such a dazzling smile he was momentarily blinded by it.

The delay made him uncertain - the dealer made no move, but watched him. He glanced up at Fogg in question, but received only a shrug in reply. Finally, the veiled lady pushed the first of the markers before her into play, her hand then moving to pick up the cards.

From behind them, Arago cleared his throat rather loudly - her hand paused in mid-air. She sniffed, looked to one side with pursed lips as if annoyed and then sighed. "Very well."

The other two markers were shifted to the center of the baize cloth, until all four formed a tight, neat square. The dealer stared down at them for a moment, then looked up to meet Jules' eyes. "Are you certain this is what you want to do?"

"Yes," he said, pleased to find his throat wasn't too dry to answer. He nodded toward the cards, shot a quick glance at Fogg, and added, "If you'd be so kind--?" tagging a final, "Please?" on the end more out of habit drilled into him as a child, than any conscious attempt to curry favor.

It earned him a smile from her - he wasn't entirely certain whether she was pleased by his show of his manners or mocking him because of them. She tossed the cards to the table with an easy air.

Jules felt his heart beat squarely for each card that drifted into place. The turned cards first, then the face cards - he held a five of clubs, while the dealer held a ten of hearts.

This part he could manage, Lady Bella's light touch on the back of his neck and his scalp proving to be less of a distraction than actually remembering to breath. He flipped the hidden card to reveal a ten of clubs. He held fifteen.

His throat grew dry again as he stared across at the dealer's hand. What were the odds that he could draw a six or less? What were the odds the dealer held a four card, or even a three or two and would be forced to draw to match or beat him if he held with fifteen?

What were the odds he'd lose all their lives?

Fogg had leaned down beside him. "There are at least three fives and three sixes remaining in the deck. Pull one of them and you've got a chance."

Verne stared down at the two cards before him, raised his hand, and then touched it to his lips. He didn't know. He wasn't sure. However helpful his logic was in solving problems, however fanciful his visions might be, neither could determine how likely it was that the pasteboard thrown on the table before him might help or hinder him.

"What should I do?" He turned his attention to Fogg and gestured down at the cards. "Tell me - what should I do?"

In answer, Fogg took hold of his hand and tapped his finger once against the cards on the baize before him. It took him a moment to understand the significance - if this was the wrong choice, Fogg was willing to take the blame for the decision.

He wasn't about to be released that easily. The dealer raised her head and met his gaze again. "You would like a card?" she asked, in a tone so clear that everyone in the room must have heard her words.

Swallowing, Jules nodded, then tapped the table before him once, without the aid of Fogg's hand.

He gained a five of hearts.

He had twenty. The dealer was still showing only the ten. He realized he'd not thought to ask what might happen if the number of her pips matched his own. Did the dealer then take the trick?

The dealer flipped over her second card - a three of spades.

Jules released a breath he hadn't known he was holding as yet a third card dropped and a fourth - two of hearts and four of diamonds. With four cards, the dealer's pips totaled nineteen.

Had he not taken the card, he would have lost.

And he had not yet won. With an ace or a two, the dealer might yet beat him . . . .

Her final card was a knave of spades. Twenty-nine.

He'd won the trick.

Jules covered his face with his hands and sighed in relief, barely feeling the kiss Lady Bella planted on his cheek. He didn't dare stand - not yet - because his knees were weak. From somewhere, a clock began to strike twelve.

And from somewhere else, a voice whispered, "Take care."

He dropped his hands to find the Lady Bella had left him - she was kissing Arago on the cheek as well. Jules smiled as he saw his mentor blush beneath her ardent attentions. Fogg was taken with the dealer. She had risen to her feet and had offered her his hand. He had bent to kiss it, his lips just having touched her glove.

Jules didn't know whether it was the two words of warning or the movement of the veil that caught his attention - the dealer was lifting it back from her face with her free hand. Her lips were the color of freshly spilled blood, shining crimson. There was not that much distance between herself and Fogg. She was leaning in for a kiss, would catch him as he rose, unaware of her intent.

Time had seemed to slow, to stop. The soft words still echoed, fixed in his brain. Although he couldn't say that it was anything other than a feeling of impending danger that compelled him to move, Jules pushed himself to his feet with one hand, the other planted firmly at Fogg's shoulder. Someone called a warning, but it was too late. The dealer's arm caught around his neck instead of Fogg's, pulling his lips to her own.

Her kiss was cold, a brutal chill that spider-webbed through his body like the tendrils of ice that coated his loft windows in the winter. He opened his eyes at the shock of it and found that hers, too, were open. Wide and dark, they seemed even colder, swallowing his soul.

The chair pushed back and Jules began to fall, his last thought being that he would be dead long before he struck the ground.

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End of chapter 5

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