Playing With The Devil: Chapter Two
A/N: Sorry it took me a while to update. I haven't been home for a few days and I had to think about some points of this story that'll be important for the plot later on. I hope you'll keep on reading :)
House let his hand with the cards sink back on the table. He looked confused. Nothing of Wilson belonged to him. And he had no idea what that man was talking about.
The air in his livingroom was still freezing and he shivered. Something weird was going on, but House still believed that somebody played a trick on him. And if this guy was not the devil, but just a damn good actor, then he had nothing to lose. And of course the devil wasn't real, neither was anything like Wilson's soul. But obviously he knew how to stop the pain in House's muscle.
Nothing to lose and all to win – it seemed to be the perfect deal for House.
The two cards on the table before him looked tempting. House was never one who could resist a poker game. He lifted the corners of the cards and peered at the small sign. Two aces, not bad for a start.
"You take the deal?" The devil watched him closely, his red eyes beaming.
House took another deep breath and picked up the cards. He was in.
A mean chuckle came from the cloaked figure, accompanied by another wave of foul smelling breath. "Then let's see what we are playing for." He reached out a hand and pointed to the tv set. The screen flickered, House bent forward and saw a picture of Wilson.
"You spy on him with a camera?" House could hardly believe he could see directly into the hotel room Wilson was staying at.
"A camera?" The little chuckle sounded hollow and mean. "I've got my own ways." The devil looked at the screen almost longingly. "Such a devoted soul," he whispered. "He shouldn't have given it to you. You don't appreciate it … - I will."
The picture of Wilson on his hotel bed made House feel queasy. He was asleep, looking peaceful and content, almost like a child.
"He'll be mine. Now let's see what you'll get."
A cold hand reached out for his leg and as the pain suddenly shot back into it, House screamed in agony. He dropped the cards and gasped for air. The pain had not been this bad in years and instinctively he reached for the Vicodin bottle. It was still empty. House let out a loud growl like a wounded animal.
"Stop it!" House panted. He threw the pill bottle across the table and clutched his leg again.
"The more games you'll win, the more the pain will cease. For now" The devil picked up his cards, waiting for House to do the same.
Win? House couldn't even think. The pain crept into his head, that now felt like it was very close to exploding. He squeezed his eyes shut as another wave of pain shot through his thigh. He glanced up to the shelf where he had hidden his morphin. If only he could get there.
"Take your cards now!" The greenish face was only a few inches away from House's.
House grit his teeth, took one hand off from his leg and picked up the cards. Wilson was forgotten, all he wanted now was to win and get rid of the pain again.
"So let's just pretend we had started with the blind bets." The devil dropped a few golden coins onto the table. He pushed some of them over to House, left some in the middle and kept the rest for himself.
Nodding slightly House looked at his coins, picking one up and examining it closely. It was heavy and the golden surface looked dull. On both sides it had a "W" engraved, obviously standing for Wilson's soul.
So what was this thing that Wilson supposedly had given to him? The thing others might call 'a soul', House had thought to be personality, but that was certainly not something you can take or give away. Was there really something like a soul?
The devil dealed the flop, placing the cards on the table. House's heart made a jump, another ace. He quickly placed it into his hand.
"I raise." House thrust another coin into the pot.
"Fold." The devil put down his cards. House felt a slight relief in his leg, then remembered his ante and took a look at the tv. Wilson was still sound asleep.
Before he could protest, the devil had dealt the next round. He threw the small blind in and waited for House to add the big blind.
"Wouldn't it be my turn to deal the cards?" House complained, but knew right away that the devil wasn't necessarily bound to rules. He shrugged his shoulders, dropped a coin onto the table and picked up his cards. A king and a five.
The next cards did not provide any help at all. House was hoping for something better in the next round. Without even looking at his cards, the devil raised and flinged another coin into the pot.
House had to bluff to keep up with the bets. The stabbing pain in his leg was still distracting him from the game, but he tried to concentrate. The more he'll win, the more the pain would subside.
When it was time to show, House's king was beaten by the devils two pairs. Both turned to the tv, looking at Wilson. He was still asleep, but was rolling over uneasily. Maybe he just had a bad dream.
House was not sure if the pain in his leg got worse. It was already so bad that he hardly felt any difference. When he looked back at the table, his cards were already laying in front of him. He rubbed his ice cold hands to warm them and picked the cards up.
They both played without talking, but they eyed eachother closely, House trying to see behind the various bluffs and tricks of the hooded man and the devil seemed to enjoy House's pain and fruitless efforts to win.
House wanted to see, he had a full house and felt very confident that his opponent had more or less nothing on hand. He was wrong. The devils four queens beat him.
The tv flickered and House turned to watch Wilson. Rolling over in his hotel bed, he slowly woke up. Wilson pressed his hands against his temples, then his eyes, obviously not feeling well. He glanced around slightly disorientated and shivered. His breath draw small clouds in the cold air of his room.
"We're getting there," the devil grinned.
House digressed from Wilson's picture and glared at the cards that already lay before him. He rubbed his leg once more and took them. Two nines.
The poker game did not go well for House. No matter how well he bluffed or what his cards were, the devil beat him – round after round.
Every time they had shown their cards, both turned around to see what Wilson was doing. From the shivers and the confused looks, House guessed that Wilson had noticed the drop of temperature and the extincted street lights, too. His room looked gloomy and Wilson started to clutch his chest and his head in turns as if in pain.
But then, House thought, Wilson couldn't be in half as much pain as he was. His head dropped on the table while he fought hard not to pass out. The fierce pain in his leg made him feel nauseous.
The temperature had dropped a few degrees again. House was shaking from the cold and the pain. This has to go away, he mumbled. He had to win!
Again he picked up the cards, but the pain drove tears into his eyes and he had trouble recognizing them. Eights and threes, sixes and nines – it all looked the same to him. He grit his teeth and picked up another card. Diamonds!
They were all diamonds, House noticed and threw another coin into the pot, another piece of Wilson's soul.
If he had a choice now, he would trade Wilson's whole soul for just another five minutes without the stabbing pain.
What was a soul good for anyway?