At Large

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At Large Page 16

by Andrew Seiple


  Chase itched to ask what the name was, but her instincts told her it was better to let him talk, get it out of his system.

  “He was a bookie. Originally we had numbers games, bets, even the occasional river raft races. I had him in my office every other day, arguing about the numbers. He was the only one who ever stood up to me, ever argued with me.” Enrico smiled, and pulled his glasses off. “Brave, brave man. Idiot sometimes, no real common sense. Smart as a whip, but dumb. Dumb enough to leap in front of a frenzied wolfman.” He closed his eyes. “Idiot.”

  “Brave,” she said. “You meant everything to him.”

  “A brave idiot, then.” Enrico chuckled. “Yeah. Anyone will stick by you when times are good. When times are bad, you find out what your friends are really worth.” He stared. “A lot of people separate friends and lovers. They say you can’t be both. But to me he was always my best friend. I know a lot of people... hell, I’m related to a lot of people, who decided that their lovers were lovers, not friends. And it’s caused so much grief, messed up so many marriages. A lot of people live in misery, because they think that’s how the gods want it, or because it’s good for the soul.”

  “And how many of those people would stand between their lover and a beast?” Chase asked.

  To her surprise, Enrico smiled. “Damn few.” He pushed his spectacles up and rubbed his eyes. “You’re all right, kid.”

  “Thank you,” Chase said, simply, and though she was bursting with questions, she let the silence work its magic. She let the Gambler piece himself back together.

  “Heh. It’s funnier because you don’t understand,” Enrico said, filling his pipe again.

  “Then please tell me, so I can laugh at the joke.”

  “Once we grabbed you, I had you two put through every test you could imagine. We keep a scout on staff. I know every bit of your status screen. Hell, I probably know things about you that you don’t know. And just by looking at your jobs, you’d be the last person in the world I’d trust with a damn thing.”

  Chase fought back an angry protest. Her fingers curled around her skirt, at the casual dismissal. Was his mood so fragile that he’d flip-flop so casually?

  “Looking at your jobs you seem untrustworthy,” the Gambler emphasized. “But you haven’t fired up a single skill. Haven’t tried to get a single edge on me. Jobs are one thing, but they aren’t the measure of a person. The status screen shows you some things, but it doesn’t tell you what you truly are inside. That’s the part that’s hidden, that’s the part that nobody can see.” He smiled. “My screen? It doesn’t show that I like men, or women, or anything of that sort. It doesn’t matter to these words, these weird things that rule our lives, and dictate how we can excel. It isn’t a limitation, or a condition, or anything. It’s just how I am. And that’s a special kind of thing. And you have so, so many ways to manipulate me, but you haven’t reached for a single one of them. That tells me you’re all right. And that’s why it’s funny... because to you it’s a casual compliment. Until you know the context.”

  “Text? I see none here,” rumbled the Muscle Wizaard.

  Enrico chuckled. “You’re all right too, big guy.”

  “Thank you!”

  “So...” the white-suited man said, sitting down and wiping at a speck on his desk, “I like you. And I have nothing to lose by helping you out. I’ll help you as much as I can. You wanted clues? I guarantee I don’t have all of the picture, but I can maybe do you a landscape or something.”

  “All right. Let me think,” Chase said.

  Where to start? Where to even begin?

  Well, the basics were a start. “Why are the werewolves hunting you?”

  “They’re hunting me because two decades ago Dona Tarantino called in a favor with my family. No, I won’t go into details on the favor. But I was one of the hunters who teamed up to take down the pair of werewolves that were terrorizing Arretzi.” He sighed. “The doge at the time wasn’t as competent as the current guy. The underworld had a bigger reach back then. They tapped us and a few other of the noble families, to lend support.”

  “The Bianchis!” Chase burst out. “Is... did their victim survive too?”

  Enrico snorted. “No. Well, I mean I don’t know for certain, but she wasn’t nearly as clever as me. They’re usually more goody-goody. Lotsa Paladins come out of that family. They don’t work the angles, like we do.”

  “And yet they helped out organized crime.” the Muscle Wizaard pointed out.

  “For a good cause,” Enrico puffed on his pipe. “And the famiglias know better than to ask the Bianchis for anything that they’d consider personally dishonorable. It’s a self-serving line to walk, but the Bianchis manage. They’re doing better now that the doge has been cleaning up the place, anyway.”

  “So it’s revenge?” Chase asked. “That’s all?”

  “That’s all?” Enrico laughed, and cursed gently. “—yeah it’s revenge,” he finished. “Cities fall, states crumble, because someone got slighted. Revenge is the most primal of all motives, you know. Even I’m not immune to its call...” he said, picking up a small portrait from his desk, and staring at it. His eyes hardened, magnified behind the spectacles, and Chase had a clear view as they turned bleak and cold. “Never underestimate vengeance, kiddo. It can drive a man to points where reason bailed out long ago.”

  Then he deflated, shrinking back into his chair, his suit wrinkling as he sagged. “Given time to fester, anyway. Me... I’m just hollow. Maybe when I am done mourning. If I live that long. But yeah, it’s revenge. We killed the runt’s mate. Now the runt’s all grown up and hunting us down. And he brought his pack.”

  “You’re sure of that?”

  “There’s at least three,” Enrico said, standing, and moving back to stare out the window. “The survivor, tall and thin and fast. He’s the alpha now. A squat one, muscled and beefy, maybe a kid of the old mate. And a small one... a new runt, I’m thinking. We learned that during the attack on our manor. We saw them by firelight, checked their tracks in the blood of our servants and guards.”

  “A small one. Halven sized?”

  Enrico tilted his head, as he turned back to consider her. “Yeah, maybe. The change makes it hard to tell, but the little one could be a halven when he isn’t fuzzy. Why do you ask?”

  Chase related the story of the leatherworker and the knife. When she was done, she caught his gaze. “Do you know why one of them would kill a leatherworker?”

  “No. But it could be that the little one’s new, still learning to control himself. Maybe the guy’s daughter cut herself or something, and he smelled blood and lost it.”

  “Maybe,” Chase said, remembering the raw stink of the tannery. Would even a werewolf be able to smell blood over that chemical reek? It seemed unlikely. But they were dealing with monsters, when all was said and done. She couldn’t say what they couldn’t do.

  But there’s someone here who can help rule out a few things, at least. “You say their blood burns when silver touches it? What other weaknesses do they have?”

  “Ah... it’s like vampires. There’s a few different types so the weaknesses can be different depending on how they ranked up,” the Gambler shrugged. “They have to hunt during the full moon. They regenerate like no one’s business. Silver that pierces their flesh burns them. Beyond that?” he raised a hand and opened it, palm up. “Dunno.”

  “They still have bones, right?” The Muscle Wizaard asked. “They’re flesh and blood, yes?”

  “Yep.”

  “I can work with that!” The big man slammed a meaty fist into his other palm, and the smack echoed through the office.

  “Let’s hope so,” the Gambler said, pulling out a metal disc and opening it with a snap. “We’ve got forty-six minutes to see if you need to test that theory.”

  “Okay. So everyone but the leatherworker that’s had a public death has had ties to the hunting party,” Chase got herself back on track. “Who’s left alive?”
<
br />   “Me. Don Coltello. Don Sangue. Maddalena Verde.” he shrugged. “We all brought some people, some support, but we’re the main four left.”

  “I’ll have to ask Cagna about Don Sangue, and whether or not any of Coltello’s people have been targeted. They probably have been, since some of the murders have been in the Outskirts.”

  “Not a bad conclusion,” Enrico said. “I think—”

  Shouts came from below, muffled by the glass, and the Gambler whirled.

  Half the room had gone dark, and as they stared, a howl resounded.

  High and keening, it reached out to the back part of Chase’s mind, the part that constantly reminded her that she was small, squishy, and tasty, and punched it like a boxer on a speed bag.

  Chase gasped.

  She hadn’t felt such fear since Pandora, since that dark prison, with the Butcher’s knife at her throat as he whispered threats.

  “So it begins!” Enrico snarled, slapping cards down on his desk, silver edges flaring in the lamplight. “Come on then! Ante up or fold!”

  “Chase!” Renny called, and everyone jumped. Enrico turned, eyes whipping around the room, cards in his hands faster than she could follow with her eyes. The Muscle Wizaard was up, hefting his chair in one hand.

  “Chase! There’s a new scent in the room! There’s somebody in the room with us—”

  And that was all the warning they had before a cloaked figure lunged out of the shadows and carried Enrico’s screaming form through the window.

  CHAPTER 13: WHEN YOUR LUCK RUNS OUT

  “No!” Chase bolted out of her seat, running around the desk and staring down through the window.

  Screaming people fled in all directions, overturning tables and sendings cards scattering like autumn leaves. She watched in horror as one running man tried to go through the player-only area, rebounded so hard that he fell, and was promptly trampled by the people behind him.

  And across the hall, the darkness suddenly grew as a chandelier went out.

  “Where is he? I can’t see him!” The Wizaard boomed behind her.

  “Let me look!” Renny hurried forward, and Chase smiled to see him. He was here all along! She didn’t know how he’d evaded capture, but she didn’t need to. The fact that he’d been silent backup made her feel a lot more in control of this chaotic situation.

  The feeling lasted until someone started banging on the office door and shouting.

  “Oh this is bad,” Chase said. “There’s no way they won’t blame us for this! They’ll think we pushed him or whatever!”

  “There he is!” Renny pointed, to where Enrico’s white-suited form was rising from the ruins of a card table. Miraculously, it had broken his fall almost perfectly.

  But then, of course a Gambler would be lucky.

  No sign of his attacker, though... but across the way another chandelier went dark, and the howl rose once more.

  “We need to get down there!” The Muscle Wizaard said and started flexing and intoning his buffs.

  “Jump! I’ve got you!” Renny said.

  “Er...” Chase said, looking down at the floor. How high up was it, precisely? It was pretty high.

  Then strong arms folded around her as she squeaked.

  “Hang on tight!”

  She grabbed double fistfuls of beard as the Muscle Wizaard threw himself through the window... taking her with him.

  Chase screamed... then stopped, as everything slowed down. Did I activate Foresight by accident?

  But no. Around her the screams still rose, the Muscle Wizaard’s beard still twisted in her hands. They were just falling slower.

  Above her, she saw Renny step out of the window onto thin air and hover downward, paws crossed over his chest, borne by air.

  I keep forgetting that he’s really good at this, Chase thought, and was thankful for it as the world revolved, and the Wizaard flipped himself over landing feetfirst on the ground.

  “Excuse me,” he said, putting her down, pulling out his hat, then ripping his robes off with a single tug. He stood there in only a loincloth, settling his hat on his head, pounding one fist into an open palm. “It’s showtime!”

  Enrico’s voice rang out across the floor, cutting through the din. “Cardsharp.”

  “What? Ow!” The Muscle Wizaard stumbled backward, as a flash of silver light carved into his side. Blood flew, and a red ‘128’ rose up from his head.

  “No! Stop!” Chase yelled. “We’re on your side! Lesser Healing, Lesser Healing!”

  You have healed Muscle Wizaard for 28 points!

  Your Lesser Healing skill is now level 31!

  You have healed Muscle Wizaard for 29 points!

  Enrico hesitated, staring at her...

  So she threw one at him for good measure. Going through the glass had to hurt, right? “Lesser Healing!”

  You have healed Enrico Rossi for 29 points!

  He grunted, then looked around. “Who got me? Who pushed me?”

  CHA+1

  Chase sighed in relief, then lost that relief when Enrico’s eyes found Renny’s floating form and drew back to throw. “No! The fox is with us! We don’t know who pushed you!”

  “It doesn’t matter who pushed you, little man...”

  The guttural voice rumbled from the darkness, and Chase froze. She turned, along with the other three. The bulk of the crowd was gone now, and empty and broken tables stood between them and the darkness. The player’s area was still lit somehow, an oasis of marble and gold and fountains, but of the speaker there was no sign.

  “It matters that you’re down here with me. And unlike all those years back, this time I know what I’m doing.”

  “You got a lot of nerve,” Enrico said, drawing himself up. “Attacking me here, in my place of power. Attacking ME! You’re in my house, and the house always wins. I know when to Hold’em. And when to Fold’em.”

  The voice laughed. “Of course you do. Let me guess, you also know when to walk away, and when to run?”

  “What the caga are you talking about?” Enrico said, drawing back to Chase and the Wizaard.

  “Nothing you’d understand. Come on then. Show me what you got, Enrico. Let’s see if you can take out an eye this time!”

  “Quench Light,” a different voice growled from deeper in the darkness...

  ...and the chandelier over the little group went out.

  Enrico’s voice hissed through the darkness. “Quick! You guys got good fortune?”

  “What?” Chase called back.

  “Fortune! You got enough of it to take some hits?”

  Chase nodded. “Yes!”

  “Well, er, not really,” The Muscle Wizaard said.

  “Sort of, maybe?” Renny spoke.

  “Then I’m sorry in advance. Ante Up!” the Gambler shouted.

  Instantly, a familiar sensation rippled through Chase. It felt like what happened when she overused foresight too much in a short time. It was the feeling of her pool of fortune energy being tapped and drained of a good chunk.

  You have taken 50 fortune damage from Enrico’s Ante Up!

  Calculating winner...

  Around her, she saw three white ‘50’s float up from the darkness.... Enrico, the Wizaard, and Renny, she knew.

  And to her horror, she saw eight more white 50s float up in a semicircle around them, out in the darkness. “There’s eight werewolves!” she called out.

  “I know!” Enrico said. “Give me a second, and I’ll have enough fortune to take care of— wait, what the hell?”

  Congratulations, you are the winner!

  Fortune buffed by 600 for one minute!

  A surge of raw power burst through Chase, filling her and crackling like raw fire. In an instant she went from feeling scared in the darkness to having the world itself at her fingertips. Crackling with potential, humming with power, she gasped and heard it echo through the hall.

  “How did I lose? Agh, fight for your lives! Here they come!” Enrico called out.
/>   “Don’t worry,” Chase said, feeling things click into focus, knowing just how far, exactly, she could push her luck for the next fifty-five seconds. “I’ve got this. Foresight!”

  Seconds stopped and started, stopped and started, as Chase took control of the battle, using her premonition to figure out the best courses of action.

  “Renny! Make torches!” she commanded, after seeing how they’d fare in darkness.

  “On it!”

  Your Foresight skill is now level 23!

  “Wizaard, go after that one slinking around behind us!”

  “I cast silence! Have a Chokehold!”

  Your Foresight skill is now level 24!

  “Enrico, go all out! Good Fortune, Good Fortune, Good Fortune!”

  You have healed Enrico Rossi 9 Fortune!

  Your Good Fortune skill is now level 2!

  You have healed Enrico Rossi 10 Fortune!

  Your Good Fortune skill is now level 3!

  You have healed Enrico Rossi 11 Fortune!

  Your Good Fortune skill is now level 4!

  “Thanks! Cardsharp! Rapid Fire!”

  Your Foresight skill is now level 25!

  For a glorious moment, everything was going well.

  For a few grand seconds, the surprised werewolves hesitated. Six-to-eight foot tall furry forms wearing torn clothing, now bloodied and beaten back by unexpected resistance, hunched in the cover of the tables and considered the surprisingly competent foe.

  But only for a moment.

  The shortest among them, a mere six feet tall but so squat and thick with muscle that it looked more like a bear-person than a wolfman, snarled and pointed at Chase. “Geek the mage!”

  “What?” another rasped, as Chase whirled to face them.

  “Kill her!” the stout werewolf commanded.

  “Do it!” another one growled.

  “Bad Fortune!” Chase yelled, pointing at the one ordering her dead.

  Your target resisted your curse!

 

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