note: I'm still not very happy with this chapter, but I couldn't put it off any longer. Oh well, I just wanted to get past it - now we get into the fun stuff. Haaa.

sixteen: stakes II.

I followed my liaison through the twisting maze of streets and alleys, not bothering to pay attention to where we were going. I didn't have the energy to keep track of all the turns or the backtracking or the vaguely familiar landmarks. I just walked. We walked quickly – but not too quickly. We looked as though we had purpose, but we weren't in a rush. And we weren't careless. I saw more than one set of glowing eyes from a dark corner waiting for the chance to act on an unsuspecting passerby. I didn't want it to be me.

The man with the silky voice had not said anything to me since I'd agreed to come. He walked a few paces ahead of me, which gave me plenty of room for my thoughts. He never looked back; he must have just assumed that I was still following, or else he had excellent hearing.

I felt a shiver crawl up my spine as we traveled on. The moonlight was not as positive a factor as I'd originally thought; though it served to illuminate everything to a certain extent, it was not pure light like the sun. Instead, it was dim and gray and deceiving, shimmering sometimes like it was temporary. It played with your eyes, played on your face and hands, disappeared behind a cloud and cast strange shadows on the ground. I decided that I didn't like it.

Normally, though, the streets were almost pitch black. Some sections of the city had streetlamps, but whatever wasn't broken was barely ever lit. Sometimes there were lights in the windows, but that was usually just shops or bars. Most houses didn't like to draw attention to themselves and turned down their lights with the setting sun. Swifty, he didn't care, but he could get away with stuff like that.

I shivered again. We were uptown now, passing through a district known for its nightlife. The still night had gradually grown louder until all the noise and raucousness were impossible to ignore. Here, it was brighter, and safer too, believe it or not. Here there were people, mostly stumbling around wasted, but people nonetheless. And I, for one, would take a drunken brawler over a pair of glowing eyes any night.

We made our way away from the lights and sounds until they were distant, until they were more like suggestions of the atmosphere than an actual presence. That's when the man stopped. I was still deep in my thoughts and almost bumped into him. We were on the left side of the street, outside a large, metal door. He hit it three times, pausing between each knock, and then took a step back and waited patiently. He still did not look at me. It wasn't because he had anything against me. He just simply did not care.

Maybe thirty seconds later the door opened a few inches, then all the way. It was dark inside, so dark that I couldn't see who had opened the door, if anyone. The man at my side went in without hesitation, so I just shrugged inwardly and followed.

The door shut behind us with a screech. We walked down a long, still dark hallway, the walls so close that I could touch them with my elbows. It sloped subtly downward, so gently that I didn't even notice it at first. But the air got colder and somehow thicker. As we walked, noise grew, and at last a dim glow appeared at the end of my line of sight. The messenger hurried down a couple stairs – luckily I noticed and so did not fall down them – and then threw open the door from which the light had been emitting. I shielded my eyes against the sudden glare and pulled the door closed as I entered. This wasn't quite what I had been expecting, to say the least.

It was one room – or maybe a couple, my eyes were still adjusting – and it was packed with bodies and light and heat and noise. My man had already disappeared and now I was alone among a crowd of people. Under different circumstances, I may have been amused at the assortment of guests there. Some were dressed to the nines, others looked more like me, casual and dirty. I took off my hat and ran a hand through my hair self consciously. What now?

My answer came in the form of One Lung Pete, who fought through the throngs of people to get over to me. This time I did have to laugh. He was all done up, at least in the sense that he was One Lung Pete. He had this huge black cape that was somehow still intact in one piece and he wore it over a multicolored three piece suit. His hair – which usually looked like it had been cut by a blind man – was actually somewhat presentable, and he was chewing on a wooden pipe, which he took out of his mouth with a flourish so that he could talk to me.

Or, so I thought. Instead he just stopped about a pace away from me and crossed his arms, tapping his chin with the pipe and looking me up and down. I squirmed a little under his gaze and ended up putting my hat back on.

"Wicked glad yuh showed up," he said finally, and stepped forward to give me a good clap on the back.

"Yeah, sure," I said in reply, and found my eyes wandering. "But, what is this? Where am I?"

"Heh, wait 'til you 'ear this," he chuckled. It was kind of a nervous chuckle, and it put me immediately on edge. I crossed my own arms. "N'er mind, n'er mind," he continued, and grabbed my arm. "Come on, I'll introduce you to some a these peoples 'forehand."

I let myself be dragged along, still a little wary of the whole situation. Our first stop turned out to be the bar.

"What'll yuh 'ave?" One Lung Pete asked me, resting an elbow on the bar top.

"Uh, nothing, thanks," I said distractedly. Alcohol was the last thing on my mind, especially when I still didn't know where the hell I was. I had a feeling that getting drunk was not going to solve any problems, not this time.

"Eh, just as well," One Lung Pete muttered, then said, "Find me something cold," to the bartender. He turned around and leaned back and looked out over the mass of people gathered. "Quite a pahty," he said. I nodded. He was less talkative than usual, less animated. He seemed nervous. I had no idea why, and in turn that made me nervous. One Lung Pete turned to accept a pitcher of beer and downed half of it in one draught.

"Where are we?" I asked finally, when it became apparent that he wasn't going to bring the subject up.

"Does it mattah?" he shrugged, motioning around the room with his half empty pitcher. "People are heah, havin a good time. I thought maybe you'd be wanting to'ave a good time."

"Yeah, okay," I said dryly. "Really. Where am I." I wasn't in the mood for games. It was late, I was in a strange place, and I was starting to get a little tired. Maybe I should have had something to drink, after all.

He looked at me, took another sip, looked at me again. People moved all around me, some pressing real close, but no one bothered to stop, no one even seemed to notice that I was there. For once I just blended right in, just like I'd always been trying to. Or maybe I just didn't stand out as much as I felt like I did. Now that I thought about it, One Lung Pete didn't seem to feel too at home, either. He kept looking about himself, and now just took quick sips of his brew as though he expected to be attacked if he let his guard down long enough to tilt the glass to his mouth. It bothered me, if only because nothing bothered Petey.

"D'ya want the good news or the bad news?" he asked after a few minutes. He wasn't meeting my eyes, but that was okay, because I wasn't looking at him either.

"Um, both? Good news first, I guess."

"Alright." There was a pause in which he set his now empty pitcher down on the bar top and then resumed his position from before. "I got ahold of yer potion."

"I figured," I said. Good news. Bad news. Potion. That still didn't explain why he couldn't have waited until morning to deliver the goods to me himself.

"But they's moah," he cut in quickly. "I did some research in my spare time, ya know, looked a few t'ings up. Tell me, does this sound familiar – Lucky feet?"

I froze but didn't let anything show on my face. I was still facing forward but I wasn't really watching the partygoers anymore.

"Maybe," I said casually.

"Ah, 's'what I thought," he said with a quiet chuckle. "Well, listen, I found them, too."

I was surprised. Maybe this night wouldn't turn out to be so bad after all.

"Okay," I said slowly, remembering that there was a 'bad news' aspect to this as well. "Alright, what's the catch?"

"Catch? Right, the catch. Well. That potion you need, well, it's a mite hard to come by, yuh. See, people, they use it for all sorts a things I won't get into heah."

"Get to the point, Petey," I said. "I don't got all night, here." That nervousness was returning.

"Right, right. Race, yer a gamblin' man?" I didn't answer that. "I jus' made a little bet, yuh know."

I closed my eyes. "What was the bet, Pete."

There was a lengthy pause. I didn't bother to open my eyes.

"Well, ah, it'll be a game a cards. Nothin too fancy, see. If yuh win, yuh get them feet you'll be wantin." I waited. "Right, if you lose, well, we lose the potion and the boy."

"You bet one of our ingredients?" I exclaimed, eyes snapping open. Then, "wait, the boy? What boy?"

"The boy, you've a boy with you. The Negro."

My blood chilled. Boots? He'd put Boots on the line?

"Yuh, now, before you get all worked up, know that I thought this through and it's a good decision. When you win, yull get another ingredient, yull be on yer way to success!"

"If I win," I said through clenched teeth. Now I turned and faced him and he didn't dare look away. At least I knew why he was so nervous. "Do you even realize that the "Negro" is not even in my charge? Or that… or that he's a boy? You can't just use him as money, you can't… I'm sorry, Pete, I know you were trying to help, but I can't do this. I may be a gambler but I'm not stupid and I couldn't live with myself if I lost Boots. Besides, Dutchy would murder me."

One Lung Pete shrugged. "Well, I guess maybe they's another piece a bad news."

"What now?"

"No backin' outta this one."

"What?!"

"No backin' out! It's done! Ya gotta play. An' ya couldn't leave, anyways." He nodded toward where I had come in. "Jus try. 's'not gonna happen." He was right. There were two large men standing in front of the door that I had come in through, and they were both staring directly at me.

"Oh, looks like it's time to go," Pete said with a light voice. He waved to someone I couldn't see and then signaled that I should follow him. We were headed for a corner of the large room, where more of the same types of men were watching and waiting. Yeah, there were more rooms than this one, all right, and it looked like I was going to be stuck in one of them.

"Please, sit down."

I had been standing behind the chair that had been designated for me, tapping my fingers on its back nervously. I was staring at the table so I wouldn't be staring at the man who had uttered those words. It just wasn't polite. He was dressed all up in bizarre elegance and I felt pretty small and unimportant in comparison. He was tall and lean, had a head of brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard, both speckled with gray. He wore a monocle, which at the moment was tucked into the breast pocket of his perfectly tailored, maroon velvet suit. A stately cane rested against the table.

The chairs were padded and also velvet, the table cherry. It stood on a large oriental rug. The room, which was a little small and covered in dark wallpaper, was lit only by a couple of candles on the table. They flickered enough to cast strange, dancing shadows and to give the whole atmosphere an almost sinister feel.

I sat, and the man followed suit. I didn't know his name or even the game we would be playing. In the middle of the table was a fresh deck of cards. I had never seen a fresh deck of cards. I eyed it hungrily. One Lung Pete stood near the back of the room, almost out of sight, nursing another pitcher of ale.

All noise from the party outside had somehow been left behind. The man had a nearly full glass of what I assumed was something like brandy in his right hand; I hadn't seen him touch it yet. He leaned back in his chair and studied me silently, I finally raised my eyes and looked back at him with what I hoped was cool indifference.

Whatever degree of casualty I'd managed to reach was immediately lost upon noticing her. I didn't know where she'd come from; it certainly hadn't been the door. She came from the wall as if she were a shadow splitting off and stood at the back of his chair. He didn't bother to look up. I was entranced. She wore a black dress that cut in sharply at the waist with sleeves that covered only a few inches of her shoulders. Her hair, a deep brown, was done up in an impossible fashion and revealed a pale face with sharp green eyes. These eyes looked straight at me and her red lips broke into a sick smile. She let her hands, hidden by long, black kid gloves, rest lightly on the man's shoulders. I forced my gaze to meet his once again.

"You may cut the deck," he said smoothly, amused. I took the cards, which felt slippery and unfamiliar in my hands, and began to shuffle. Nothing fancy, just basic stuff. I wasn't out to impress anyone, in fact I felt like I was hanging off the edge of some imaginary cliff. Poker face, I thought. I'd played in shadier situations than this. Right?

"What's the game?" I asked, still shuffling. I wanted the cards good and messy; I wasn't in the mood to be cheated. Not with these stakes.

"Poker," he said. "Five card draw. We will play seven hands. The first to win four hands takes the stakes."

It sounded simple enough. It was strange to be playing without any real betting, even when I was really young we'd at least thrown rocks and acorns into the mix to have something to keep the game going. But I went with it. The man continued to watch me without much interest. If anything, he almost looked bored. He had never asked for my name, nor I his – I got the feeling that it didn't matter, that he sat here most nights and just took the games as they came, making a rich living off of other people's – and his own – gambling habits. I almost smiled when that thought occurred to me. It didn't sound half bad.

I dealt the cards, five each, and set the deck between the two of us. He picked his up and immediately said, "two." He slid his discards across the table and I dealt him two more, then looked at my own cards. I raised an eyebrow – it was my reaction to any hand I was ever dealt, like a trademark back home with the boys. I got teased for it all the time. I remember someone once commenting that if the Lodging House exploded before my very eyes, my only response would be to raise an eyebrow, and then go about my business. So I was good at poker. Really good. And that meant having a stone face I could rely on.

I switched out for one card and looked at my own hand. A straight, seven through Jack. Not bad. Without a word I laid down my cards, and he his. He had a full house, high, too, three queens and two aces. Lucky, I figured, and pushed all the cards to his side of the table. Carefully, I watched him shuffle, keeping an eye out for any slight of hand or deck changes he might try to pull. He was professional, I had to give him that. He shuffled straight faced, still looking at me, still amused, the woman still at the back of his chair, watching idly. I heard One Lung Pete shift behind me but I didn't turn or look back. I wasn't impressed with him, especially if this little series didn't turn out in my favor. Already I was down one, but there were potentially still six hands to be played. He dealt the cards and I picked mine up. Nothing. I had an ace, so I put down the other four cards and looked across to him.

"Four?" I asked. Some people played that if you had an ace, you could trade four cards instead of the maximum three.

"Be my guest," he said with a shrug. His indifference was really beginning to irk me. I dealt myself the cards and he didn't move to stop me. I ended up with pretty much the same hand I'd been dealt, but my only reaction to that bad news was just that raised eyebrow. We laid our cards down again; he beat my ace high with just two pair. I didn't like this, not one bit. It was all dumb luck, it took no skill. I felt like I was being cheated, but that would have been almost impossible, so I just kept quiet and shuffled and dealt the next hand.

I won the third hand with four of a kind and the four with a full house. He took the fifth with three of a kind and I was beginning to think that that the third and fourth hands had just been charity wins, because he didn't look worried at all. Suddenly there was a terrific crash outside the room, loud enough that it gave me a start. He didn't budge, but his lady friend jerked her head around, and after a moment's hesitation, left the room. Now he watched her go, visibly irritated – the first expression he'd shown all night. He had the cards, and I waited for him to deal, but his hands didn't move. I was a little confused, and also then noticed that One Lung Pete was no longer in the room. When had he left?

I cleared my throat, he ignored it. After almost a full minute of that silence, the man still watching the door, I finally said, "Listen, can we get to this? I got somewhere I gotta be."

"I would rather wait," he said without moving. "She… I'm teaching her. I would like her to watch."

It was bullshit, but I was in his house, so to speak, and there wasn't anything I could do about it. I sat back with a grumble and waited. After a few minutes more it became apparent that she would not be returning, so he turned back around and started shuffling. His eyes were narrowed. I raised an eyebrow despite myself. What was the big deal?

One Lung Pete came back in just as I picked up my hand. He nodded to me and remained by the door. I was amazed to see that I had a straight flush in spades, and just waited as the man exchanged three cards and finally threw his hand down with a sour look on his face. There was nothing there. Now we were tied, and he didn't look too happy about it. In fact, he looked almost worried. He kept glancing back at the door, but all he found there was One Lung Pete's unsettling stare.

I took the cards and shuffled quickly. One more hand, the tie breaker, of course it would happen this way. It hadn't crossed my mind much before, but now I remembered exactly what was at stake, and when he pushed his chair back to try and look past Pete, I made a note of the bottom of the deck and dealt accordingly. He was barely even paying attention now.

To say I felt even a twinge of guilt for cheating is an overstatement. I was more annoyed that I hadn't considered doing it earlier. He didn't seem surprised when I laid out a beautiful royal flush, nor did he argue it. He didn't even bother to flip his cards over. He just gave me a tight lipped nod, stood, and stormed out of the room, using his cane to brush One Lung Pete aside. Pete bowed mockingly at his back and then bounded over to pull me out of my chair.

"That was the strangest fucking card game I've ever played," I growled at him. "Was that even a game? What the hell, Petey?"

He just chuckled and pushed me out of the room.

"What now?" I asked. The party seemed to be going on as it had before, which was strange considering that noise I'd heard earlier. I brought that up, too. "Where'd you go, anyway? You weren't responsible for that…"

"Just come with me," he cut me off cryptically, so I shut up and followed. "Now we collect our winnings. Aren't you glad I brought you here?"

I wouldn't be anything, glad or otherwise, until I had the elixir and the other ingredient in my hands. He led me through another door that dumped us outside, no dark hallways involved. We walked about two blocks and then ducked into a small brick building. The woman from before was waiting in a dimly lit kitchen, her arms crossed.

"That was a dirty trick," she told Pete as soon as the door was shut behind us.

"Yuh, an' yer tellin me that what you do ain't no bettah?"

She just shook her head. "If I'd known the stakes I wouldn't have left. Fine, though, it's over. Just take it and leave. He's angry."

"He's dumb," said Pete. She ignored him and shoved a wet paper bag into my hands.

"Just leave," she said. "I don't want to deal with all three of you at once."

I tipped my hat to her and we did just that.

"Git ta bed," Pete said once we were outside. He gave me the last elixir, which was in a small enough bottle for me to pocket. "Unless yuh want me to walk yuh home?"

"No thanks," I said dryly. "I'll manage." But before he left, I took a quick look inside the bag. Two bony, scaly, chicken legs were all that greeted me. "Uh, Pete? I think we got cheated," I said, and showed him the contents.

"Nah," he said. "Them's it. Why, what'd yuh expect? Bunnies?"

I didn't have an answer.

"They's her chickens. Should work."

"What?" Now I was just plain confused.

"Don't you know who that was?"

"The woman? No…"

One Lung Pete shook his head and cackled a little to himself, then started off down the street in the opposite way of where I'd be headed.

"Pete!" I called, trying to sound threatening.

He turned and walked backward a few steps, finally yelling back, "Lady Luck!"

I groaned. It just figured.

By the time I arrived back at Swifty's all the lights were out, but I was able to get in through the door. It was almost daylight, so to speak, and I was dead on my feet. I crept past Swifty, sleeping on the couch, and up the stairs. Boots had taken my bed but I didn't even care, I just found a spot on the floor and fell asleep immediately and was not bothered even by dreams.