Casino Infernale

CHAPTER NINE Poker: It’s Not How You Play the Game; It’s How You Play the Players

I hate being nervous.

It doesn’t help, it doesn’t get you anywhere, and it just gets in the way of thinking how to do things properly. As the elevator carried Molly and me up through the hotel to the penthouse floor, I felt more nervous than at any other time on this mission. Because everything I’d done so far, everything I’d been through and endured, had all been leading up to this. The Big Game. My one and only chance to break the bank at Casino Infernale. If I won, if I pulled this off against all the odds, then I could stop a war, save any number of innocent lives, and strike a blow against an organisation I was learning to despise more and more. And, I could win my soul back.

But if I lost, if I screwed it up in the final stretch . . . it didn’t bear thinking about. So, of course I couldn’t think about anything else.

I looked at myself in the mirrored steel wall of the elevator. I thought I looked pretty good in my tuxedo. (Magically restored by Molly to all its former glory.) I looked ready for anything. Because that’s how my family trained me. To be a secret agent, to look just the way I needed to look for any situation. To show a mask and mirror to the world, and never let them see you’re hurting. So I was Eddie Drood, or Shaman Bond, as the situation demanded. Only Molly ever got to see the real me with all my defences down. And even then, only occasionally. Because when you wear a mask long enough, it gets really hard to take it off. The mask becomes your face. I looked at my reflection in the elevator wall and Shaman Bond looked back—shifty and cocky, always looking for an edge. Just the man I needed to be, for the Big Game. So why was I so nervous?

Eddie, or Shaman, or me?

Molly stood beside me, up for anything, as always. She looked magnificent in her new ball gown and she knew it. I don’t think she was nervous. I’m not sure Molly is ever nervous. I saw her scared, on Trammell Island, but then, she had reason to be. I knew how to deal with being scared—everything forward and go for your enemy’s throat. Being nervous, being unsure, is different. When you can’t plan your tactics because you don’t know what you’re getting into.

Luckily, my family’s Sarjeant-at-Arms had a simple answer for nerves: Shut the hell up and soldier.

I breathed deeply a few times, and made myself concentrate on the matter at hand. I had a lot to think about. All the souls I’d won, that I never really wanted, just so I could take a seat at the table at the Big Game. I had to win, because if I didn’t, everything I’d been through so far had all been for nothing. I glared at my reflection. I could do this. I could. I’d been through worse. But that was when there were just lives on the line, rather than souls. I had no armour this time, no backup, just me and Molly against the world. And I had to smile, despite myself. I’d bet on Molly and me, any time. She squeezed my arm reassuringly, and I smiled at her. I might not have my armour, but I still had her.

“Do you think anyone knows what’s happened down in the car park?” said Molly.

“I don’t see how,” I said. “No one in the Big Game should have heard anything. You disappeared all the bodies.”

“And cleaned up all the bloodstains and stuff.”

I grinned. “Always said you’d make a good housewife.”

She punched me lightly in the arm. “I also performed a full mystic sweep, to keep any of the hotel psychics from picking up on what happened. You didn’t even notice, did you? You don’t appreciate me; you really don’t.”

“Unless the hotel’s got a major league telepath stowed away somewhere,” I said. “This is Casino Infernale, after all.”

“Second-guessing never gets you anywhere,” Molly said briskly. “Just makes you nervous.”

“You were the one who was worried whether they were laying a trap for us at the Big Game.”

“You see? Nerves, worrying, second-guessing. And stop frowning like that; you’ll get lines.”

“It just bothers me,” I said, “that our standing at the most important Game depends on whether Jonathon Scott was telling the truth when he said he hadn’t told Franklyn Parris who I really am.”

“He wasn’t lying,” said Molly. “I would have known.”

“You ready to bet your life on that?”

“We are, aren’t we?” said Molly, brightly.

“I will never bet on anything else, ever again, after this,” I said.

The elevator finally slowed to a halt at the penthouse floor. Hopefully, we’d have more luck than the last time we were here, to burgle Parris’ office. The elevator doors slid smoothly open, revealing a corridor packed with heavily armed guards. Molly tensed, and I quickly put a hand on her arm to hold her still. I looked quickly around, but there were no Jackson Fifty-five anywhere. I very slowly and very carefully put my hand inside my jacket, brought out my invitation card, and held it up. Immediately all the guards lowered their guns, just a little. I stepped out of the elevator, doing my best to radiate confidence, and Molly was right there with me, glaring down her nose at everyone else. A small and svelte Japanese lady strode quickly down the corridor towards us, the guards falling swiftly back to get out of her way. She had long black hair, a calm and heavily made-up face, and wore a tight strapless little black dress. It was so still and quiet in the corridor, I could hear the soft tap-tapping of her shoes on the polished floor. She stopped right before us, and bowed to both of us, very politely.

“Hello and welcome to you both, Shaman Bond and Molly Metcalf,” she said, in a soft breathy voice. “I am Eiko. Head of hotel Security. I am here to escort you to the Big Game.”

“You know who we are?” I said carefully. “I don’t think we’ve bumped into you before.”

“I have studied both your files at length, Mr. Bond, Miss Metcalf,” said Eiko. “To make sure I know everything I need to know about you, to protect you more efficiently.”

“Of course,” I said. “How very reassuring.”

“Bet my file is bigger than his,” said Molly.

“Bet mine was more interesting,” I said.

“I think it best that all bets are saved for the Big Game,” said Eiko, diplomatically.

She turned and strode quickly back down the corridor, leaving Molly and me to hurry after her. The guards stood well back to let us pass, lining both walls.

“How long do these affairs usually last?” I said, to the stylised dragon embroidered on the back of Eiko’s dress.

“They take as long as they take,” said Eiko, not looking round. “Hours . . . days . . . it all depends on the players.”

“Why all the armed guards?” Molly said pointedly.

“All for your protection, of course,” said Eiko. “We have had to tighten security recently.”

“Why?” I said, because it would have seemed off if I hadn’t.

“It would appear that we have lost contact with the Jackson Fifty-five,” said Eiko, just a bit reluctantly.

“What? All of them?” said Molly, innocently.

“So it would appear,” said Eiko, still stubbornly refusing to even look back at us. “Given that they are all clones, it is hard to be sure. Since they are gone, we cannot count them, and therefore we cannot be sure they are all missing. Still, for all of them to be out of contact for so long is . . . disturbing. But you must not worry, I have called in all of my own people to guard all of the players for the duration of the Big Game. And the hotel staff are searching the entire hotel, very thoroughly, from the top down.”

“Best way,” Molly said solemnly.

“We are now approaching the designated setting for the Big Game,” said Eiko. “You will pardon me, but before you pass through the door and join your fellow players, you must be scanned.”

She stopped abruptly, so we had to stop too, to avoid bumping into her. She turned and faced us, and summoned two of her people forward with a sharp wave of her hand. The guards were carrying hand scanners instead of guns, and came just a little closer to Molly and me than I was comfortable with. They didn’t bother frisking us, which was just as well, but they did run their hand scanners over us with great thoroughness, from top to bottom and back again. I studied the scanners carefully, and then raised an inner eyebrow. Given their sheer complexity, and complete unfamiliarity, there was no way they were Earth tech. The scanner covering me made a series of low beeping noises, as though disappointed in me. Eiko smiled coldly.

“All weapons, and devices of any nature, must be handed over at this point, Mr. Bond. No matter how innocent they may be. We will start with the handgun you were seen using earlier at the hotel restaurant. Everything confiscated here will of course be returned to you, after the Big Game.”

“Of course,” I said.

I carefully removed my Colt Repeater from its pocket dimension, and handed it over to the guard standing by with an outstretched hand. The man with the scanner ran it over my hip again, and looked at Eiko again as the scanner beeped reprovingly.

“Pocket dimension,” I said to Eiko. “It sort of floats around my hip. Afraid I can’t remove it; don’t know how.”

“The room’s mystical null will close it off, for the duration of the Game,” said Eiko.

I had to empty out all my pockets, one by one. Eiko hesitated over the pack of cards the Armourer had given me. They did look very ordinary. The scanner didn’t react to them at all. Eiko studied the cards carefully, and then raised a painted eyebrow at me.

“Sentimental value,” I said smoothly. “Had my first big win with those cards. I carry them everywhere with me, for luck. I was told that such lucky charms are permitted. . . .”

“All gamblers have their superstitions,” said Eiko. “If it was up to me . . . but apparently it isn’t worth the fuss. So yes, Mr. Bond, you may keep your pack of cards. Though of course you will not be permitted to actually play with them.”

“Oh, of course,” I said, slipping the pack away in an inside jacket pocket.

The other guard was running his scanner all over Molly, and getting nothing. Eiko gave him a hard look. “Change settings, fool. She is a witch.”

The guard hastily made corrections to his hand scanner, while I raised another inner eyebrow. It was very rare tech that could detect magical energies. Molly made a point of glaring down her nose at Eiko.

“I had to leave the tall pointy hat behind. It clashed with the gown. There are no toads in my pockets, no mandrake or mushrooms, and I never was one for the whole broomstick and cat business.”

“I used to love Bewitched,” I said. “Especially when she used her magic to change her husband into an entirely different actor.”

“Well?” said Eiko, glaring at the guard with the scanner.

He was down on his hands and knees now, having struck out everywhere else, and was banging the scanner on the floor, trying to make it work. It finally gave off a single beep.

“Oh, that!” said Molly. “Sorry, Shaman, I’d quite forgotten I was still wearing it.”

She lifted up her gown to reveal a simple silver charm bracelet around her left ankle. She leaned over and undid the clasp, straightened up, and then dropped the bracelet onto Eiko’s outstretched palm.

“It’s safe enough,” said Molly. “As long as you don’t meddle with it. And whatever you do, don’t drop it. Unless you’re really good at running very quickly from a standing start.”

“We will guard it most carefully,” said Eiko.

“Do I get a receipt?” said Molly.

“Don’t push it, witch,” said Eiko. “It’s all about trust.”

“I’m really not the trusting type,” said Molly.

“Me either,” I said.

“Then you’ll fit right in, Mr. Bond, at the Big Game,” said Eiko.

She led the way down the corridor again, and the ranks of armed guards fell back to let us pass, forming two rows of something very like an honour guard. If they hadn’t all still been covering us with their guns. Beyond the last few guards lay a single door, blocking off the end of the corridor. Molly’s hand tightened on mine as we approached the door.

“That is another dimensional door,” she murmured in my ear. “Just like the one that transported us to the world of the Medium Games. Which would suggest . . . the Big Game isn’t actually being held on the hotel’s penthouse floor.”

“Of course not,” said Eiko, in a perfectly normal tone, still not looking back at us. “The Big Game is being held somewhere far more private, and secure. For your protection.”

“The more she says that, the more protected I feel,” I said.

Molly nodded solemnly. “I could still kick her arse.”

“She can hear you,” I said.

“Good,” said Molly.

Wisely, Eiko said nothing. She produced a special electronic key, apparently out of nowhere, opened the quite ordinary-looking door and led the way in. Molly and I braced ourselves, ready for anything, and strode through the dimensional door.

I didn’t feel a thing, but we were suddenly standing in a really large open room, more than twice the size of our suite. At first glance it might have been just another hotel function room, bigger than most and far more luxurious. But most of the room was just . . . empty, a great carpeted wasteland, surrounding one long table, in the middle of all the open space. A bar took up one corner, with a handful of high bar-stools, but no other furniture. And the three huge windows in the far wall were all covered with heavy steel shutters. So no one could know exactly where the room was. The lighting was clear, and just a little on the dim side, to be comfortable on the eyes.

Several familiar faces were already seated around the long table, waiting impatiently. None of them looked at all pleased to see me, or Molly. A figure sitting at the bar slipped off his high stool and came forward to greet us. Eiko moved politely to one side to let him do it, which told me immediately who this had to be. The one person the head of hotel Security would still defer to. Franklyn Parris himself.

At first glance, he seemed disappointingly ordinary. Just another executive type in a good suit, with an expensive tie and flashy cuff-links. Handsome enough, about my age, nattily turned out with a brightly patterned look-at-me waistcoat. He was smiling politely, but it didn’t even come close to touching his eyes. Nothing showed in his face apart from what he allowed the world to see. He shook me firmly by the hand, and let go as soon as he politely could. He nodded briefly to Molly, so he could more quickly give me his full attention.

“Good to meet you at last, Mr. Bond,” he said, in a dry dusty voice. “I am Franklyn Parris. Here to oversee the Big Game, and keep everyone honest. Normally that would be Jonathon Scott’s job, but he seems to have disappeared.”

“Along with the Jackson Fifty-five?” I said, innocently.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a stirring among the players seated at the table. They hadn’t been told that.

“Indeed,” said Parris. “Perhaps Mr. Scott has taken them all off somewhere to investigate a threat to the hotel. I am sure he, and they, will be back soon. No one should feel at all concerned. You are extremely safe and secure here, Mr. Bond. I feel I should point out that you and your companion were very nearly late. We were preparing to start without you.”

“The elevator took forever to arrive,” I said. “Do you want to see my invitation card?”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Parris. “If you hadn’t had the card with you, the door wouldn’t have brought you here. It has no further purpose. Feel free to keep it, though, as a souvenir.”

“I still can’t help noticing a large number of armed guards in this room,” I said. “Are you expecting . . . trouble?”

I looked meaningfully around the room, at the twenty or so armed guards in formal suits, scattered around the perimeter, cradling their weapons. They were all ostensibly relaxed, with their guns pointing at the floor, but it didn’t make them look any less professional, or menacing.

“A series of . . . unusual events have occurred during Casino Infernale this year,” said Parris. “I felt it best to err on the side of caution, for the good of all. These gentlemen, and the formidable Miss Eiko herself, are here for everyone’s protection.”

“Oh, I feel very protected,” I said to Molly. “Don’t you feel protected?”

“Oh, lots,” said Molly. “I feel so protected I can hardly stand. Think I’ll have a little sit-down, and a drinkie.”

“That would be best,” said Parris, as Molly headed determinedly for the bar. “Only players can sit at the table. Come with me, Mr. Bond, and I’ll introduce you to the other players.”

I went with him. The guards all followed me with their eyes, if not actually their guns. Parris stood at the head of the long table, and smiled benevolently on the people seated before him.

“Mr. Shaman Bond, allow me to present to you . . . Leopold, the famous gambling priest. Jacqueline Hyde, famous for all sorts of unpleasant things. Earnest Schmidt, head of the reformed Brotherhood of the Vril, who wants very much to be famous one day. And a gentleman who prefers to be known by his old sobriquet, the Card Shark. Once, the most famous card player of them all.”

We all nodded to each other, more or less politely. The only one I didn’t already know was the fat old man called the Card Shark. His name meant something, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. . . . He sat half slumped in his chair, bulging out of his suit as though he’d outgrown it, his stomach pushing out the bulging, food-spattered waistcoat. He had large fleshy hands, not quite as steady as they should have been, and a broad sweaty face with unhealthy grey skin. His eyes were flat and dark and suspicious. He didn’t look at all well. He looked old and tired, as though he should have been in some retirement home, and that, at last, helped me to place him.

The Card Shark dismissed me with a glance, which was as it should be. He had no reason to know Shaman Bond. Wouldn’t have lowered himself to move in such circles. But he’d have known my cousin, Matthew Drood, back when Matthew was the family’s main field agent in London. He’d amassed quite a file on the infamous Card Shark—a man already well past his prime, but still a fearless and much feared card player in all the sleazier gambling houses in London. The Card Shark got his reputation from driving other card players to their deaths. The Shark liked to goad inexperienced young players into games and bets they weren’t ready for, and then demand every penny he was owed, immediately. Many suicided when they couldn’t pay.

I thought the nasty old scrote had retired. Was he back here for one last big game? And if so, how did he get this far? Last I heard, he was broke and vegetating in some nursing home. Could Casino Infernale have funded the Card Shark’s return, so Parris could be sure of at least one celebrity name at his first Big Game?

I made a point of looking away from the table and the players, and gestured at the great steel-shuttered windows.

“What’s out there?” I said to Parris. “Where are we, exactly? Why aren’t we allowed to see?”

“Because you wouldn’t like it,” said Parris. “It would only distract you from the game. All you need to know is that this is home ground to the Shadow Bank. And we take our privacy very seriously.”

I looked across at the bar, where Molly was perched on a high stool opposite Eiko. They were talking quietly to each other, not even bothering to hide their mutual hostility.

“Only the players are allowed to sit at table,” said Eiko. “You are allowed to observe, Miss Metcalf, as long as you don’t try to interfere.”

“Well, whoopee,” said Molly. She shot me a quick reassuring glance, and then glared at the bartender. “Give me a bottle of brandy and one glass. I would offer you a drink, Miss Eiko, but I’ve only got the one bottle.”

Eiko ordered a single glass of saki.

“Am I the only guest here?” said Molly.

“No one else took advantage of their plus one,” said Eiko. “Unless you count Jacqueline. But then, in my experience, I have found most gamblers to be solitary types.”

“Are you sitting here to keep me company, or to keep an eye on me?” Molly said bluntly.

“Yes,” said Eiko.

“If we could have your full attention, Mr. Bond?” said Parris.

I pulled out a chair, sat down at the table, and stared openly round at my fellow players. They looked me over just as openly. I supposed they weren’t used to playing with people they didn’t already know at this level of Casino Infernale. I smiled easily about me.

“So!” I said brightly. “Let’s all get acquainted. Why are we all here? You first . . .”

“One last big game,” said the Card Shark. His voice was harsh and breathy, as though he had trouble getting enough air. “To prove I’ve still got it. That I’m still the best.”

It had to be said, no one else at the table looked particularly convinced. Most of them were looking at the Card Shark with barely disguised contempt.

“Go on, Shark,” said Jacqueline. “Make yourself at home. Ruin someone’s life and drive them to suicide.”

“Why are you here?” Schmidt said to Jacqueline. He sounded politely interested.

“It’s no secret,” said Jacqueline. “I need to find a way to separate myself from Hyde, so we can exist separately. So we can be properly together, at last.”

“But you’re from the Nightside,” said Leopold. “If you couldn’t find an answer there . . .”

“Who says I didn’t?” Jacqueline said harshly. “But miracles cost money, lots of money, even in the Nightside. Perhaps especially in the Nightside.”

“I am here to fund the Vril,” Earnest Schmidt said flatly. “The world is waiting for us, waiting for a Fourth Reich to bring Order out of Chaos. The world is waiting for the reformed Brotherhood of the Vril to return from the shadows and force the world to make sense again. Movements cost money. So here I am. Look on my cards, ye mighty, and despair.”

“Molly and I were attacked on our way here,” I said, “by big blonde Nazi girls, riding flying lizards. Pan’s Panzerpeople.”

“I know nothing of this,” said Schmidt, not even looking at me.

A brandy bottle flew past his head, barely missing him, followed by raucous laughter from the bar. Schmidt went pale, and developed a twitch.

“I know,” I said quickly to Parris. “She’s my responsibility.” I looked back at the bar. “Behave, Molly. Or they’ll throw both of us out of here.”

“Spoil-sports,” said Molly. “You, bartender. Give me another bottle. And if you say I’m cut off, I’ll start cutting bits off your anatomy.”

“Girls just want to have fun,” I said to Parris. I looked at Schmidt. “The Pan’s Panzerpeople are all dead now. So are their Pteranodons. Hope you kept the receipt. Maybe you can get your money back.”

“I am here to raise funds for Mother Church,” said Leopold. Intervening graciously.

“What’s the matter, priest?” said Jacqueline. “The Church doesn’t own enough land, or cathedrals, or works of art?”

“I raise money for charity,” said Leopold. “For orphanages and missionaries. Feed the hungry, and pass out Bibles to the lost.”

“Ever think maybe you’re part of the problem?” said Jacqueline.

“No,” said Leopold.

I studied him thoughtfully. “How do you justify owning souls, priest? Doesn’t it bother you?”

“I have been given a special dispensation by the Church,” Leopold said calmly.

“And what happens?” I said. “To the souls you own?”

“Souls are currency, or ammunition, in the Great Game between Heaven and Hell,” said Leopold. “You might say . . . the souls I win have been conscripted, to my side.”

“Slavery is still slavery, however you justify it,” I said.

“Then how do you justify owning souls, Mr. Bond?” said Leopold. He seemed genuinely interested in my answer.

“I don’t,” I said. “But then, I don’t have to. I’m a bastard, not a priest.”

“I work for the greater good,” said Leopold. “The sacrifice of the few is sometimes necessary, if the many are to be saved.”

“Even conscripts should have some say in what happens to them,” I said.

“You are a far more thoughtful man than I expected,” said Leopold. “We should talk, afterwards. I’m sure we’d find a lot in common. Why are you here, Mr. Bond?”

“I’m here to break the bank,” I said, and everyone managed some kind of smile at that.

“Really,” said Schmidt, smiling avuncularly, if a little coldly, “I think all of us would admit, if pressed, that we are all here for the thrill of the game. Even you, priest.”

“Perhaps especially me,” said Leopold, calmly.

“Before we start,” said Jacqueline, “I want a bigger chair. Because this one will just break when I change into Hyde.”

I think it was the way she said when rather than if that put the wind up everybody. Including the armed guards around the room, who immediately snapped to attention and aimed their guns at Jacqueline. Parris gestured to Eiko, who hopped down from her bar-stool and left the room through the dimensional door.

“I’m assuming there is a null zone generator in this room, somewhere,” Molly said loudly. “To keep everyone honest. And to keep Jacqueline . . . Jacqueline. Can she really become Hyde, under these conditions?”

“I’m afraid she can,” said Parris. “Hers is a pre-existing condition, a result of taking the Hyde potion long ago. So we must all therefore rely on Jacqueline’s self-control.”

I shot a look at Molly, who nodded briefly to me. We were both thinking of the potion the Armourer gave us, before we left Drood Hall. And then we all looked round sharply as the door banged open and Eiko strode in, leading two security guards carrying a really big chair between them. They set it down at the table, and backed quickly away. Jacqueline looked the chair over, and then tried it out for size. She looked small and lost in it. She nodded, briefly. Eiko went back to the bar, hopped up onto her bar-stool, and went back to glaring at Molly. The two security men left the room, at speed, closing the door firmly behind them. There then followed a certain amount of changing chairs and jockeying for position, because no one wanted to sit next to Jacqueline Hyde any more. In the end, Leopold sat down on one side of her, and not to be outdone, I sat down on her other side. Schmidt and the Card Shark immediately sat down on the other side of the table, facing us. Franklyn Parris sat at the head of the table, and produced a pack of playing cards. He smiled easily about him, shuffling the pack with calm, practised movements.

“I shall be dealer,” he announced. “As the only truly impartial figure here. The game is, of course, poker. The traditional game, with no cards showing. None of the . . . amusing variations. Poker is the only game to have a real, almost mystical significance to all Major Players. A matter of chance and skill, and a test of character, poker has always been the Big Game, to decide the future of all souls won at Casino Infernale.”

He set the pack of cards down carefully on the polished tabletop, and then produced, apparently from nowhere, a large red-lacquered box, to set down beside the cards. He waved his hand over the box, and the lid slowly opened. Parris then consulted a list, and counted out piles of obols for all of us. To serve as our gambling chips. I wasn’t entirely surprised to find that everyone else had a much bigger pile than mine. The next largest pile belonged to the Card Shark, presumably courtesy of the Casino. I examined the obols I’d been given. Each small coin had been stamped with a stylised death’s head, on both sides.

“Cool,” I said. “Cool touch.”

“We thought so,” said Parris. And then he dealt five cards to each of us, round and round, while we all watched with avid eyes.

I picked up my cards, and took a look. A pair of eights, and three assorted hearts. Didn’t mean a thing to me.

I hadn’t played cards in general, and poker in particular, since I was a kid. And only then because all forms of gambling were strictly forbidden at Drood Hall. If it was against the rules, I was up for it, back then. But . . . it didn’t take me long to discover that I had no gift, no skill, and no luck at all when it came to cards. So I gave it up, very quickly. Never once felt the urge to go back.

I looked at my cards again, with what I hoped was my best poker face, and hadn’t a clue what to do for the best. I could discard as many cards as I wanted, and take more from the dealer, in the hope of improving my hand . . . but I had no idea what the relevant odds were. So I sat back, and allowed the others to make up their minds behind their various poker faces, and waited for the Armourer’s potion to kick in. Only to quickly realise that the potion only helped with card counting and pattern recognition. Neither of which would be any use until a few hands of cards had been played. By which time . . . I could have lost all my carefully gathered souls.

Everybody anted up, throwing the bare minimum of coins onto the table, to show they were entering the game, and I had to go along. And then everyone discarded some cards in return for others, while I thought furiously. Finally, Parris looked at me and raised an eyebrow when I just smiled at him, placed my cards face down on the table, and shook my head.

“I’ll play these,” I said.

And while everyone else was still staring at me, I pushed forward every single coin I had, to start the next round.

“All of it,” I said brightly. “Every damned obol. Anyone want to see me?”

I saw Molly sit bolt upright at the bar, out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t dare look at her directly. She was looking at me as though I’d gone mad, and to be fair, so was everybody else. But, because everyone else at the table was an experienced gambler, and knew what they were doing . . . they assumed I knew what I was doing. So they all folded, and threw their cards in. Rather than throw good obols after bad. I smiled again, and raked in all the coins already bet. With one single bluff, I’d just about doubled the number of souls I had to bet with. Enough for me to sit back for a few hands, watch the game develop, and allow the Armourer’s potion to kick in. I leaned back in my chair, and felt my heartbeat slowly fall back to something like normal.

Parris reached for my cards, and Schmidt suddenly leant forward.

“No!” he said. “I want to see the cards our callow young friend thought so highly of.”

“Sorry,” I said, pushing the cards over to Parris, still face down. “You didn’t pay for the privilege of seeing them.”

“Quite correct, Mr. Bond,” said Parris, shuffling my cards back into the pack.

“So,” said Schmidt. “That’s how this game is going to be played.”

My first big win had surprised, if not necessarily impressed, everyone else, and they were all very cautious in their betting through the next few rounds. I anted up the bare minimum, just enough to stay in the game, and watched the other players as closely as the play. My card counting skills eased in almost without me noticing, and I was soon starting to recognise patterns in the play. Just enough . . . to give me an edge. The cards went back and forth, and I won a few hands here and there, while avoiding what might have been nasty losses. The other players were taking me more seriously now, and genuinely seemed to believe I knew what I was doing.

And then the Card Shark bet big, just as I had. He bet all his obols, all his souls, on one hand of cards. And then he sat back and glowered around the table. Only I knew he couldn’t have the kind of cards he needed to win that big. I’d been counting. So I called him. It took pretty much everything I had. The Card Shark glared at me, outraged that a nobody like me should dare to call him. He wasn’t giving anything away; he’d looked angry and outraged at pretty much everything and everyone since he sat down at the table. There are, after all, all kinds of poker faces. He turned to Parris, who was already shaking his head.

“No credit, Card Shark. You can only bet what you bring to the table. You have bet, and Mr. Bond has called. It’s time to see the cards.”

The Card Shark turned his over: a pair of kings. While I had three eights. And that was that. The Card Shark had bluffed, trying to intimidate the table with his old reputation, and he had lost. The others looked at him almost pityingly. The Card Shark lurched to his feet, and pointed a shaking finger at me.

“Cheat! I call cheat! There’s no way you could have bet that much, on a hand like that, unless you knew what I had!”

“I suspected,” I said.

“Enough,” said Parris. “There is no room at this table for a sore loser. Perhaps you should have stayed retired, Mr. Fisk.”

“No! No! Give me another chance, another stake!” The Card Shark looked wildly around him, as the nearest armed guards moved forward. He was still begging and pleading, without shame or pride, to be allowed to stay at the table, where he belonged, when he was dragged bodily out the dimensional door. He was crying when the door slammed shut after him, and the sound cut off abruptly. Parris smiled apologetically around the table.

“Some players just don’t know when to quit.”

And then the door slammed open again, and the Card Shark was back, brandishing a gun he’d somehow managed to take off one of the guards. We all sat very still as the Card Shark pointed the gun unsteadily at Parris.

“Give me another chance,” he said harshly. “Just enough souls for a few more hands, enough to get back in the Game. I’m not being cheated out of my comeback!”

“It was never going to be a comeback,” Parris said calmly. “Merely one last chance to play at the big table. Don’t be a fool, Mr. Fisk. Give me the gun.”

“I won’t give up!” said the Card Shark. “I’ve got a gun, so you have to listen to me! I didn’t come all this way just to be beaten by a nobody! You gave me the souls. Give me some more! You can afford it! I can do this!”

“So,” said Schmidt, glaring at Parris. “The rumours are true. You did back a player of your own.”

“You tried to fix the Big Game, Mr. Parris?” said Leopold. “I am shocked, I tell you, shocked.”

“There has been no interference in the Game,” Parris said carefully. “I merely wanted to be sure that there would be someone at the table that other people had heard of.”

The Card Shark suddenly pointed his gun at me. “You couldn’t have beaten me, you little shit. Not you!”

“You bluffed and you lost,” said Leopold. “No one likes a bad loser. This is no way to end a long and distinguished career, Mr. Fisk. Please leave now, before things get out of hand.”

“I’ve got a gun!” said the Card Shark, desperately.

“So you have,” said Parris. “But I have an Evil Eye.”

There was a pause as everyone looked at him. The Card Shark turned the gun back to Parris.

“I don’t see any Evil Eye,” he said.

“It isn’t in my face,” said Parris. “It’s in my hand.”

He held up his left hand, and there in his palm was an embedded metal eye. The lids crawled open, revealing a glowing eye, and the Card Shark couldn’t look away. He looked into the Evil Eye, and was lost. All the expression went out of his face, and he just stood there, staring blankly. An empty shell. The metal eyelids closed, and Parris lowered his hand. He gestured to the two nearest guards, and they led the unresisting Card Shark away. The door closed behind him again, and this time they stayed closed. Parris looked round the table, at all of us.

“All his souls go to you, Mr. Bond. And his soul, as well. Because no one defies the rules of Casino Infernale.” He turned and looked at Eiko, who nodded quickly, hopped down from her high stool, and hurried out the dimensional door. She left it standing open. After a moment there was the sound of a scream, stopped short by a single gunshot, and then Eiko came back through the door. She closed it, nodded briefly to Parris, and sat on her bar-stool again.

“That was the guard who was clumsy enough to allow his gun to be stolen,” said Parris. “I think you’ll find the remaining guards will stay on their toes from now on.”

He didn’t look around. He didn’t have to. Molly looked thoughtfully at Eiko.

Play continued. I bet small and played cautiously, counting cards and watching the play, waiting for another opening. Leopold seemed to be doing much the same. Perhaps he was waiting for God to whisper in his ear. Jacqueline studied her every hand carefully, glowering, thinking hard, as though everything depended on every hand. And perhaps for her, it did. She was winning steadily, playing conservatively, playing the odds. The pile of obols in front of her grew.

Schmidt seemed increasingly impatient. Things were not going well for him. He squirmed in his chair, rearranging his cards again and again, as though he could force them into a better combination. He scowled, almost sulkily, as he watched his pile of obols slowly diminish. No big losses or upsets, but he was running out of souls. He glared suddenly at Jacqueline.

“Come on! What’s taking you so long! Make your bet; you’re holding the Game up! We should never have allowed a woman to take part anyway!”

Jacqueline turned into Hyde so quickly none of us could follow it. There was no effort involved, no straining or crying out—one minute a small woman was sitting opposite Schmidt, and the next, there was Hyde. Huge and muscular, a great bear of a man. A big brutal engine of destruction. And before any of the armed guards could even react, Hyde reached across the table and tore Schmidt’s head off. Just ripped it away, with shockingly casual ease. The body fell backwards from the table, still in its chair, blood spurting thickly from the ragged stump of neck. Hyde held up the severed head before him, smiling horribly into Schmidt’s still-blinking eyes.

Some of the guards cried out, almost hysterically. They were trained to deal with men; Hyde was something else. Something much worse. Leopold and I had both risen up out of our seats and stepped quickly back from the table, out of Hyde’s reach. But he had eyes only for the head in his hands. He waited till Schmidt stopped blinking, and then he kissed the dead man on his dead mouth, and threw the head calmly to one side. It rolled away, stopping at the feet of one guard, who froze where he was, gazing down at the thing with appalled fascination. Hyde turned his great head slowly to look at Parris, who hadn’t moved an inch.

“Clear up this mess,” said Hyde.

Everyone in the room flinched at the sound of his voice. Parris gestured quickly for two guards to come forward and carry the headless body out. In the end, Eiko picked up the head and took it away, apparently entirely unmoved. The extra chair was removed from the table, and Leopold and I resumed our seats. Hyde turned back into Jacqueline. And once again, just for a moment, I thought I saw the two of them reaching out to each other in the only moment when they could meet. Reaching out, but never able to touch. This evil brute of a man, and this small delicate woman. Beauty and the Beast, or two sides of the same coin?

Jacqueline gathered the remains of her clothes around her. She didn’t look at any of us.

“I’m just a woman in love with a man,” she said. “I only want what any woman wants—to be able to hold her man in her arms. I only want to know what every other woman knows. I want to be together. And I will not suffer anything to get in my way. Do we have a problem, Mr. Parris?”

“I don’t think so,” Parris said carefully. “Mr. Schmidt broke the rules of the Game when he tried to intimidate you. I would have had my people remove him, anyway, if he’d continued.”

“Then play on,” said Jacqueline. And we did.

The cards went back and forth, to no productive end. Obols passed back and forth across the table, from pile to pile and back again, while I waited for my moment.

Leopold looked at me thoughtfully. “There’s something about you, Shaman. Something I didn’t expect. You’re so much more than your reputation.”

“The nail that stands up gets hammered down,” I said easily. “I prefer to hide my light in the shadows.”

“And I have to ask,” said Leopold, quite casually, “what the infamous wild witch herself, Molly Metcalf, is doing here with you? According to Church files, she is quite definitely involved with a Drood, these days. The remarkable Eddie Drood, no less. I think I can safely say, none of us saw that one coming.”

Molly snorted loudly at the bar. I carefully didn’t look in her direction.

“She still is attached to her Drood,” I said. “I just hired her to be my bodyguard. Dangerous place, this Casino Infernale.”

“And how did someone like you, Shaman, acquire enough money to hire someone like her?” said Leopold.

“With a percentage of my winnings,” I said.

“Of course,” said Leopold. “I knew it would have to be something like that.”

“How did you get to be the famous gambling priest?” I said.

“There’s a lot of card playing goes on at Seminaries,” Leopold said easily. “Almost the only vice we can indulge. Young men together—very competitive. . . . You know how it is. I discovered I had a gift for the cards, and the Church found a use for that gift.”

“And you always win?” I said.

“God gave me a gift, not a miracle,” said Leopold. “It’s all about knowing which cards to back. Like these.”

He placed his cards face down on the table, patted them almost fondly, and then pushed forward every obol in front of him. It was quite a large pile. Leopold smiled around the table.

“Would anyone care to call me? I assure you, God is on my side here.”

I pushed forward my entire pile of souls, to match his. “Do we really need to count them all?” I said to Parris. “It’s every soul I have, against every soul he has.”

“This is acceptable to me,” said Parris. “If it is acceptable to you, Leopold?”

“Of course!” said the famous gambling priest.

Molly was all but bouncing up and down on her stool, trying to catch my eye. I didn’t look at her. I knew what I was doing. I nodded to Leopold.

“You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.”

He turned over a full house. Jacks over tens. Should have been a winning hand. Anywhen else, it would be. But I turned over four aces. And for a long moment, no one at the table said anything.

“God might be on your side, Leopold,” I said. “But the cards are on mine.”

Leopold stood up abruptly, staring at me with a shocked, ashen face. He looked genuinely upset. “I don’t understand. . . . It’s not possible! You are not who you appear to be, Shaman Bond! You are in the employ of dark forces! It’s the only answer!”

I looked at Parris. “I’m not in the employ of dark forces. Really.”

“No demonic possessions here,” said Eiko, from the bar. “The mystical null is still operating.”

Leopold’s shoulders slumped, and the fire went out of his eyes. The guards escorted him out of the door, and he went quietly.

Jacqueline looked across the table at me. “Just the two of us now, Shaman.”

“Shouldn’t that be three?” I said.

“Funny man,” said Jacqueline. “But don’t try anything funny with my other half. You wouldn’t like me when I’m funny.”

“Lady and gentleman,” said Parris. “Let’s play cards. It’s still all to play for.”

He shuffled the cards, thoroughly, and play went on. It didn’t take long before Jacqueline decided she had the perfect hand, and bet all her souls on it. You would have thought that she’d learned better by now, or at least spotted a pattern. But no, she bet every soul she had on her hand, and I pushed forward my pile to match hers. She slammed her cards down on the table, and glared at me defiantly.

“There! Four kings! Beat that!”

“No,” I said, showing her my cards. “I have four kings. You have four queens.”

Jacqueline looked down at her cards, and her jaw dropped. “No! That’s not possible! I had the four kings! I did!”

“The cards in front of you are quite definitely queens,” said Parris. And they were.

“You cheated!” roared Hyde, as he lunged across the table at me.

I was expecting the change, but even so it happened so suddenly it caught me by surprise. Only the width of the table kept Hyde’s clutching hands from my throat. I threw myself backwards, rolling out of the chair and across the floor. Hyde threw himself across the table. I scrabbled backwards, and every guard in the room opened up on Hyde. He charged forward so fast he actually avoided most of the bullets, and the few wounds he did take healed almost immediately. He towered over me, massive and monstrous.

I could see Molly on her feet by the bar, frustrated because she couldn’t use her magics to help me. I was feeling equally frustrated without my armour. I yelled to Parris to give me back my gun, but he just shook his head.

“You don’t need a weapon,” he said loudly. “I have my own weapon. Eiko!”

There was something in the way he said her name that made Hyde stop and look around. Just in time to see Eiko turn into a female Hyde. She didn’t become big and bulky, like a female bodybuilder or wrestler. She was tall but slender, lithely muscular, full of a terrible burning energy. Like Jacqueline’s Hyde, just looking at what Eiko had become made you want to kill her on sight. She was wrong, awful, an abomination. Everything a human being is not meant to be, brought to the surface and made material. Evil in the flesh. Eiko launched herself at Hyde, and the two monsters slammed together in a horrid form of violence that was almost sexual. They tore at each other with their bare hands, ripping flesh away in great bloody handfuls. The wounds healed quickly, and the fight went on.

Until Eiko, the better trained fighter, got Hyde in a headlock, and held him there just long enough for Parris to shove the Evil Eye in his hand right into Hyde’s face. He cried out as the metal eye looked into him, and then he changed back, into Jacqueline. Because that was the only way he could escape what the Eye was doing to him. The moment Jacqueline reappeared, Eiko punched her savagely in the side of the head, and let go. Jacqueline collapsed, weeping in pain and loss. The guards all looked at Parris, the same question in all their faces. Should we shoot her now?

Parris thought about it, and then shook his head. “Let her live. As she is. That’s a far worse punishment.”

Two guards hauled Jacqueline back onto her feet, dragged her to the dimensional door, and threw her out. Before the door closed, Jacqueline looked back at me and screamed I’m glad I poisoned you at the restaurant! Which solved one small mystery, at least.

Parris gave the transformed Eiko a hard look, and she changed back into her previous self. I thought I sensed a certain resistance in her, but apparently Eiko was smart enough not to argue with Parris while he still had his Evil Eye. Eiko went back to sit at the bar, and Molly looked at her thoughtfully.

“That dress didn’t half stretch,” she said.

Eiko ignored her.

I picked up my chair, pushed it back into place, and sat down at the table again. After a moment, so did Parris. He gathered all the obols on the table into one big pile, and pushed them over to me.

“All Jacqueline Hyde’s souls are now yours, Mr. Bond. With the exception of her own, which she never bet. So, somewhat to my surprise, I must confess, you are now the winner of this year’s Casino Infernale.”

“The Game isn’t over yet,” I said. “You’re still here, representing the Shadow Bank. So let’s play on, you and me. What do you say, Mr. Parris?”

“I am tempted,” he said slowly. “Though I’m not sure that’s ever been done before.”

“Come on,” I said. “Don’t you want a chance to win back all these souls I’ve accumulated?”

Eiko stood up at the bar. “This is not acceptable, Mr. Parris. You know it isn’t. It is not in the traditions of the Big Game for the Shadow Bank to put the souls it owns at risk.”

“Our game,” I said to Parris. “We get to decide the rules.”

“I am in charge here,” said Parris, not even glancing back at Eiko. “I make the decisions.” He looked at me for a long moment. “Why should I play, Mr. Bond?”

“Because I’m not much of a catch, am I?” I said. “Who’s ever heard of Shaman Bond, that matters? You need a big name, a Major Player, someone important, to win this year’s Big Game. On your first watch as the man in charge of Casino Infernale. You need a celebrity to win. That’s why you brought in the Card Shark, just in case. But you won’t get much credit off my name. Shaman Bond as the winner? You’d be a laughing stock. So I’m going to give you a chance to be the big winner yourself. What would that do to your prestige in the Shadow Bank organisation?”

“You’re risking everything you’ve won,” said Parris. “Why do you want to play on?”

“I told you,” I said, smiling. “I want to break the bank at Casino Infernale.”

“All right,” said Parris. “Let’s play.”

“No!” said Eiko. “You can’t do this! I won’t allow it!” She strode forward, to glare at Parris. “I will become Hyde again if I have to, to stop you. To enforce the rules! The Shadow Bank will thank me for it, and give me your job!”

Parris nodded to the guard standing behind Eiko, and he shot her in the back of the head. The impact sent her stumbling forward, but she didn’t die immediately. She’d already started the change, but it was too late. Too much damage had already been done. Her body lurched and twisted, muscles rising and falling, until she fell to her knees, cried out one last time, and died. She lay still, a horribly malformed shape that was neither one person nor the other. A single great eye bulged out of her face covered with blood from the great exit wound in her forehead. Parris gestured almost lazily to the two nearest guards, and they picked up the body and carried it out through the door. Parris looked round the room.

“I will not have my authority challenged.” He looked at me, and smiled a horribly normal smile. “It is so much quieter in here, without her, isn’t it? Now, what do you suggest, Mr. Bond? What game should we play? More poker?”

“I was thinking of something simpler,” I said. “Why not bet it all, bet everything, on one turn of the cards? Man to man, luck to luck. I’ll bet every soul I’ve won; you can match that with an equal number of souls owned by the Shadow Bank. You have the authority to do that, don’t you?”

Parris looked down at the pack of cards on the table, the back stamped with the same stylised death’s-head image as the obols. He looked back at me. “I do admire your style, Shaman! If not your sanity. Very well! Let’s do it.”

From the bar, Molly was looking at me as though I’d completely lost my mind, but she didn’t interfere. I hope you know what you’re doing was written clearly in her face. I shot her a quick reassuring grin. I knew what I was doing, but I was still so nervous my heart was all but jumping out of my chest. I had everything under control, nothing could go wrong, but this was Casino Infernale, after all.

Parris and I ended up standing at the head of the table, facing each other, the pack of cards between us. We both looked at each other, eyes steady and unyielding, the tension on the air so heavy you could have hammered in nails with it. Parris picked up the pack of cards, and shuffled them with professional thoroughness. He put them down again, breathed deeply a few times, and cut. His card was the jack of hearts. He smiled, pleased and relieved. A good card. A winning card, usually. I made my cut, and turned up the ace of spades.

Parris was so shocked he couldn’t even make a sound; just stood there, looking at his card, and mine. I’d just doubled my already considerable number of souls. The surrounding guards made a whole bunch of impressed noises, despite themselves. They were all edging in closer for a better look, caught up in the thrill of the moment. Parris had gone grey in the face. He looked sick. I think he was genuinely shocked, to have lost so many souls that belonged to the Shadow Bank, so quickly. A wise man would have quit right there, got out while the going was good. So, of course I pressed the point.

“Double or quits?” I said brightly. “A chance to win back all the souls you lost.”

He nodded quickly. He shuffled the cards again, not quite so steadily, and cut to his card. A ten of clubs. Not bad. I cut the king of clubs. And just like that, I owned four times the number of souls. Parris had lost, and lost big. Betting souls that weren’t really his to bet.

“The Bank will have my balls for this,” he said numbly. “They’re watching, recording everything that happens here. They see everything, know everything, that happens at Casino Infernale. And they have to acknowledge my bets, my losses, made with the authority they granted me, or no one would ever wager at Casino Infernale again. . . .”

“You’ve still got a chance,” I said. “One last cut of the cards. Everything you have, every soul you’ve acquired here at this year’s Casino Infernale. Set against everything I’ve won here. One turn of the card from each of us; winner takes all.”

“I have no choice, do I?” said Parris. “If I go back to the Shadow Bank with these losses, I’m a dead man. And even you can’t fight odds this big, Shaman. You can’t win three cuts in a row.”

“I’m ready to risk it,” I said. “It’s all in the cards, after all.”

Parris picked up the pack, and shuffled the cards slowly and steadily, taking his time, running his hands over the cards again and again, as though trying to remind them who they belonged to. He put the cards down, and looked at them for a while, breathing slowly, and then he cut the cards and turned up the king of hearts. He almost collapsed with relief. And then I made my cut, and showed him the ace of hearts.

Parris couldn’t believe it. He just couldn’t believe it. He stood there, staring in wide-eyed shock as I dropped the ace on the table before him. All the colour dropped out of his face. Even his lips went pale. He sat down suddenly. Molly let out a great whoop of joy, and ran forward to throw her arms around me. I grabbed her and spun her round and round, laughing aloud. We hugged the life out of each other. I grinned so hard my cheeks hurt. I’d just won every soul taken at Casino Infernale, and that had to include my own soul, and that of my parents.

“I did it!” I yelled, to the whole damned room. “I’m the man who broke the bank at Casino Infernale!”

And then Parris stood up suddenly to face me, with a strange, cold smile. “Wait. It isn’t over yet.”

I put Molly down, and we stood together, looking at Parris.

“What?” I said.

“He won, fair and square!” Molly said angrily. “The guards all saw it! The Bank saw it!”

“I still have one more thing left to bet,” said Parris. His face was still horribly pale, but his voice was steady.

“You do?” I said.

“What might that be?” said Molly. “What could you possibly have to equal all the souls won at Casino Infernale?”

“The Crow Lee Inheritance,” said Parris. “Yes . . . I see you’ve heard of it.”

“Who hasn’t?” I said carefully. “It’s all everyone’s talking about. A hoard of secrets, and treasure, and powerful things, left behind by The Most Evil Man In The World. There are people out there who’d do anything to get their hands on it. How did you get it?”

“Crow Lee willed it to the Shadow Bank,” said Parris. “Everything else . . . is just rumour and hearsay. Would you like to see it?”

“You’ve got it here?” I said, just a bit incredulously.

“Oh, yes,” said Parris. His smile, his gaze, and his voice were all almost fey now. He reached into his jacket and brought out a simple silver key.

“That’s it?” I said.

“Apparently,” said Parris. “This key gives the owner access to the Inheritance.”

“Okay,” I said. “I can see how the Shadow Bank might end up with the Inheritance. Crow Lee probably did a lot of business with them, down the years. But, how did you end up with the key? And what’s it doing here with you?”

“He didn’t just leave it to the Bank,” said Parris. “That would have been too easy. He left it to them, through me. Because I’m his bastard son.”

“I thought . . . Crow Lee killed all his children,” I said.

“All those he could reach,” said Parris. “My mother was an executive at the Shadow Bank, so I grew up under their protection. Crow Lee didn’t want to upset people he did regular business with. That’s why I got to run Casino Infernale this year, because I brought the Crow Lee Inheritance to the Shadow Bank. I brought the key here, to put it on display . . . but when it became clear so many important groups and people were ready to go to war over it, I decided that was probably not a good idea, after all.”

“But, it’s just a key,” said Molly. “What does it do? What does it open?”

“We don’t know,” said Parris. “Not yet. The Bank’s best scientists have been studying it, very carefully, from a safe distance. Crow Lee always was so very fond of his little jokes, and nasty booby traps. Once Casino Infernale is over, I will return the key to them. But it was left to me, so I get to decide what’s done with it. Come on, Shaman, you know you want it. Everyone does. One last bet—all your souls, against this key. What do you say?”

I looked at Molly. I didn’t have to say what I was thinking. If I could win the Inheritance, right here, and walk away with it . . . that would be the end of the business. With the Inheritance safely in my family’s hands, the fanatics would all back down. No more war. I looked steadily at Parris.

“How can I be sure that key really is the real thing?”

“If I were to cheat on a bet as a representative of the Shadow Bank our reputation would be worthless,” said Parris. “They’d do far worse than kill me, for something like that.”

“All right,” I said. “Why not? Let’s do it. One last turn of the cards . . .”

Parris looked at the cards on the table.

“They’re your cards,” I said. “I suppose I could call for a fresh deck, but this one’s been good for me. Unless you . . .”

“No . . . no,” said Parris. “I had these cards checked out very thoroughly, before the Games began.”

He shuffled the pack one more time. Beads of sweat popped out on his grey face. He put the pack down on the table, and then cut to reveal the queen of spades. I made my cut, and showed Parris the ace of spades.

“The Crow Lee Inheritance is mine,” I said. “Give me the key.”

“What have I done?” said Parris. He wasn’t talking to me, wasn’t even looking at me.

“The key,” I said.

“Of course,” said Parris. “I’m a dead man now. What does anything else matter?”

He threw his card away, and handed me the silver key. The moment I took hold of it, Crow Lee appeared there in the room before me. Parris cried out at the sight of his dead father, and the guards all trained their guns on the huge, bald man in the long white Egyptian gown, with his bushy black eyebrows over dark hypnotic eyes.

Molly sniffed scornfully.

“It’s just an image! A recording stored in the key, activated by Shaman’s touch.”

“Why did it never appear to me?” said Parris. “He was my father.”

“Good question,” I said. “Let’s ask him. Assuming there is an interactive function . . . Crow Lee, what are you doing here?”

“Congratulations!” said Crow Lee, in a rich carrying voice. “Think of this as my living will. You have taken possession of my inheritance, my single greatest creation. A weapon big enough to destroy the world.” Crow Lee stopped abruptly, and turned to look directly at me. “And you, my dear sir, must be a Drood, if you are hearing this. It pleases me that my greatest enemies should have taken control of the key. It opens a door, to a Singularity. An artificially created black hole. And by taking the key, Drood, you have activated it. The key will open the door, and the black hole will destroy everything! Because if I can’t have the world, nobody can!”

He laughed loudly, triumphantly, as his image faded away. And then the key was jerked out of my hand by an unseen force. It thrust itself forward into the air, as though fitting into some invisible lock, and slowly began to turn. I grabbed on to it with both hands, but I couldn’t stop it turning. I threw all my strength against it, but I couldn’t even slow the steady remorseless movement. Molly ran forward, and put her hands on top of mine, but it didn’t make any difference. Parris looked at me wildly.

“There was no Inheritance! Just another of my damned father’s dirty tricks! And you—you’re a Drood? All along, you’ve been a Drood? But . . . you don’t have a torc! We checked you! We checked everyone!” He started to laugh, hysterically. “It’s you! You activated the key, so whatever happens now, it isn’t my fault!” He looked at his guards, standing around stunned by the sudden change in events. “Don’t just stand there! Kill him! Kill them both!”

But they looked at the key, still turning in mid-air despite everything Molly and I could do, and every single one of them turned and bolted, fighting each other to get through the dimensional door to safety. Molly left me and ran back to the bar. I hung grimly on to the key. Molly vaulted over the bar, and threw everything back and forth as she searched desperately.

“Parris!” she yelled. “Where’s the bloody null generator! I have to turn it off, so I can use my magics on the key!”

But Parris was still laughing wildly. He raised his left hand and looked into his Evil Eye, and just like that, he was gone. He’d escaped from a situation he found intolerable, and all it had cost him was his soul.

The key completed its full circle, and a door appeared in front of me. A flat black door, with the silver key set in a silver lock. The door began to open. I let go of the key, and put my shoulder to the door, trying to hold it closed, and it pushed me back with slow, contemptuous ease. A low whistling filled the room, as the air was sucked past the door’s edges, to whatever lay beyond. I dug my heels into the carpet, and couldn’t even slow the door. Given what it was, and what lay behind it, I probably couldn’t have stopped it even if I’d had my armour.

Molly cried out triumphantly behind the bar, as something smashed loudly. She vaulted back over the bar, and came running back to join me, stray magics spitting and crackling around her. She’d found the null generator. She stood beside me, and hit the door with the full force of her returned magic, and couldn’t even slow it. The air was rushing past the door’s edges now. Crow Lee had put a lot of thought and effort into his last act of spite against the world. The heavy table was edging forward along the floor, pulled by the remorseless force. I looked at Molly.

“Can you teleport us out of here?”

“I don’t know where we are!” said Molly. “Once we passed through that dimensional door, we could be anywhere! I can’t teleport blind without coordinates.”

The carpet was rolling up towards the door. The table was jerking forward. The air was rushing past me.

“Leave the door,” said Molly. “We can’t stop it. Let’s just leave, through the dimensional door, before someone thinks to lock it from the other side.”

“This is a black hole!” I said. “We can’t just leave it! If this door opens all the way it’ll suck in the whole world. Nowhere would be safe!”

“Isn’t there anything the Armourer gave you that might help?” said Molly.

“I’ve already used everything!” I said.

And then I stopped, as a thought struck me. In the Martian Tombs, one of the machines had insisted on giving me something. What Molly called the Get Out Of Jail Free card. I never did figure out what it was, or what it was for, but clearly the machines thought I’d need it. . . . I dug into my pocket dimension, and pulled out the card. I glared at it.

“Do something!”

And just like that, I began to fade away, as a teleport field formed around me. But only me. Not Molly.

“No!” I said. “No! I won’t go on my own! I won’t leave her behind! Take both of us!”

But it wouldn’t. The teleport field faded away. I thought hard.

“All right!” I said to the card. “Do something about the black hole!”

And I threw the card round the edge of the door, and into what lay beyond. Crow Lee magic, meet Martian tech. And just like that the door slammed shut again, and disappeared. The silver key fell to the floor. I picked it up, and put it carefully away, in my pocket dimension. The rushing air had stopped, and everything in the room was still and silent again.

“Deus ex Martiania,” I said. “Get out of Hell free card. I think I may faint. Or puke.”

“Puke first, then faint,” Molly said wisely. She hugged me tightly. “You wouldn’t leave without me. You could have saved yourself, but you wouldn’t leave me. How did I ever find someone like you?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” I said.

Molly pushed me away from her, and glared at me.

“What?” I said.

“Tell me the truth,” said Molly. “How could you be so sure you would win every game, and every cut of the cards?”

“Easy,” I said. “I cheated. Remember the pack of cards the Armourer gave me back at Drood Hall? With a built-in chameleon function, so it could look exactly like the pack it replaced? That would give me the winning hand or card, every time? I swapped it for the hotel’s pack, during Hyde’s first outburst. And no one noticed. Not even you. Parris trusted the pack, because he thought it was his.”

“I think I like Shaman better than Eddie,” said Molly. “He’s so much . . . sneakier.”

“And because neither of us could live without you,” I said.

“I could have told you that,” said Molly.