Rolling for Love

by Kate Messick

  Joe Smartin

  I watch as my players solve each of my puzzle rooms in turn. Some easily and some with much argument and speculation. As they activate each room, I play creepy music-box music to emphasize the point that what they are doing is changing something. They don’t know, but as they plug holes, open levers, and think their way through the various organs in a body, they are bringing to life a monster. A monster who’s already in the room with them.

  “You come to the end of the hallway,” I describe. “The final door is made of steel, its surface smooth and sterilized.”

  “Is there an obvious way to open it?” Dillon asks.

  “I cast detect magic,” Ruby tells me.

  “Roll perception,” I tell Dillon. “Ruby, take two damage. You are temporarily blinded. Nothing in this place is not lit up like New York at Christmas. There is so much magic, it hurts your eyes.” Dillon rolls. “Maybe not obvious,” I continue after he gives me his total, “but it still looks like a door in a hospital. With a little exploring, you find the lever.”

  “Let’s do this,” Sandy says excitedly.

  I beam, she seems to be really enjoying the puzzles. She and Dillon are working together exceptionally well. A little too well. I spent more time making some of these puzzles then they spent solving them.

  “Can we wait until I can see?” Ruby asks.

  “You can see,” Joe amends. “It just hurts to look around.”

  “I want to open it, too,” Zack adds.

  “We don’t know what’s behind the door,” Steven says reasonably. “Let’s be smart about this and not just open it, but make a plan.”

  “I open the door.” Sandy interrupts Steven’s planning.

  “God-damn it, Sandy,” Steven yells. “Your teamwork is terrible!”

  “I’m a rogue. What do you want from me?” she asks.

  “To talk to your team and let us all agree on something before you do it,” he responds. “It’s not that hard a concept.”

  “I close the door,” Sandy says.

  It surprises the table. Me included. I narrow my eyes when I see Dillon nod encouragingly to Sandy. I can see his arm move under the table. Is he holding her hand? No, it moves back; either he had an itch or he quickly squeezed something. She gave him a drive in today. I didn’t think anything of it, but … damn.

  “What does the party want to do?” Sandy’s question brings me out of my musing.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Campaign, Poogses’ Country Estate, Room Five

  Fear is a powerful motivator. It changes perceptions and emotions. It can stop an army in its tracks or inspire an entire country to change its laws.

  Goliath (Zack’s character)

  Ruby’s scream echoes horribly as her small body curls in on itself. The door opened to a demented playground. The equipment is decades old, bent, and swaying slightly despite the lack of movement in the air. The full moon shines bright above us, casting shadows and tricking the eyes into seeing things that are not there.

  I can’t help Ruby while holding the witch, and I look for a place to set her down. I end up propping her against the building we just came out of and run to Ruby. But there is nothing any of us can do as Ruby’s body rips apart, the transformation to werewolf now a natural part of her existence. I hear another howl from our right and a second huge werewolf enters the playground. Only there is something wrong with this one.

  His hair is matted and falling out in places. I realize I can see part of his insides through his rib cage and his eyes glow orange. The sound of a music box tickles my ears eerily.

  “Oh shit,” Nozomi says. “I think that’s Humpty.”

  “What?” I exclaim.

  “Really, you rolled a one?” Sandy says to me, outside of the game.

  “Hey, at least everyone else rolled over 10. Gotta get my low numbers out on group rolls, teamwork right?” I respond merrily.

  “The wolf is missing the same number of ribs as in the bone room,” Nozomi explains. “His paws are oozing blood. I can see green-yellow acid dripping to the ground from his jowls, same as the acid in the stomach room …”

  “Roll for initiative,” Joe cuts off Sandy.

  Dice fly.

  “That’s a 19,” I announce. “Suck it, perception roll of one.”

  “Wow, the character that’s designed to go first actually gets to go first,” Joe says, surprised.

  “Strider, Nozomi, flank it. I will hit it straight on. Trixy, do your thing,” I command. I look back at Ruby, still deep in her transformation. A wild card, hopefully she knows us well enough at this point that when she wakes up a werewolf, she fights on the right side.

  With a roar, I charge the ugly male wolf. It has been patiently waiting for me, and I feel acid sear into me as its mouth closes around my shoulder and we both go down. I can see spells and weapons whirl around us as my allies attack. It feels like hours on the ground, grappling this wolf before I’m able to roll over and beat my powerful wings to get back on my feet.

  A crossbow arrow sinks into one of the wolf’s eyes, Strider’s inspiration fills my heart. I move to bash it with my club when something barrels into me from behind and I’m again dropped to the ground. I roll and land on my back. Ruby’s werewolf eyes stare down at me, her lips pulled back in a snarl. I hear a painful whine from the male wolf that cuts off as Ruby’s eyes glaze over and streaks of green come out of her.

  “How is the wolf healing?” Nozomi yells the question to everyone.

  I hear another yelp as the wolf is injured again, and once more I see green light slide off Ruby. “They are connected,” I yell. I try to stand. Ruby’s werewolf form notices and whines as she brings her front paws down on my chest. Pinning me to the ground. This is not good.

  Nozomi (Sandy’s character)

  I curse as I miss with my daggers again and another stream of green travels between the two werewolves. The succubus currently has its attention and is using a maneuver called kiting, where she strikes and runs so that the wolf struggles to hit back. Great for Trixy, bad for us. A moving target is harder to hit. We need to get Ruby off of Goliath and away from here.

  “Hold you big attacks,” Strider bellows. Not that I was going to use them anyway. Seconds later, Strider peels away from the male werewolf. He stumbles as the wolf claws his back, but charges toward Ruby. I dash forward trying stab the werewolf. One of my daggers slices into his fur before he is once again out of reach.

  “I will kill you Trixy!” Strider’s theatrical bellow fills the playground. I risk a look, he has cast an illusion of Trixy and is charging it. I hold my breath, wondering if his flimsy ploy will work. Thunder strikes above us, sounding like dice crashing together.

  Ruby’s werewolf head is thrown back in a protective howl as she peels off Goliath, hot on Strider’s tail. With Ruby too far away to heal the big werewolf and Goliath once again keeping him in one place, I’m able to target the decaying holes in its side. The acid from his blood and innards burns as I sink my daggers into internal organs. Trixy blasts him with demonic force and Goliath batters him with holy light. The battle is almost over before it has begun. With a weak cry, the werewolf crashes to the ground. Its body falls apart as if nothing were keeping it together.

  “Nice touch there, Joe,” I tell him. Joe ducks his head to the obvious reference to his Humpty Dumpy rhyme.

  With the big male werewolf dead, I turn my attention to Strider, still pinned under Ruby’s werewolf form. They hadn’t gotten far; Ruby must have needed to stay very close to the decaying wolf to heal it. As I run, Ruby’s werewolf form lurches to one side and begins to transform. The moon, the entire room, is dissolving around us.

  I dive for Strider, feeling for a pulse, ignoring the nearby popping and tearing sounds from Ruby’s painful transformation.

  “I knew you cared.” Strider opens his eyes and they meet mine.

  I quickly remove my hand from his neck and playfully swat him. “We all care,” I tell him.


  “Saved by the power of friendship?” he asks.

  “Saved by your own quick thinking,” I correct.

  Ruby, now human, wraps her arms around her slight body. Trixy takes off her gawdy pink coat and wraps our druid in it.

  “Hold up,” Zack interrupts. “Is Ruby naked?”

  “She’s not naked!” Lynda immediately affirms. “Why on earth would she be naked?”

  “Well, her body just morphed into a werewolf and no one described any clothing on it,” Steven grins at his wife.

  “The clothing is part of the transformation,” Lynda explains. “It’s magical in nature and my clothing stays on as long as it’s all natural … as it is. But my shoes usually have rubber soles, so I lose them all the time.”

  “Oh good, you actually thought about this,” I respond, pleased. “I’m cool with either theory on werewolves.”

  “I’m so glad we have your permission,” Steven says sarcastically.

  I glare at Steven, but before we can get into it, Joe speaks up. “Good role-playing, Lynda. I’m glad you put thought into the nature of your beast. Now, the room is disappearing. What’s the plan?”

  We rush back through the door into our little prison. The dusty, lifeless portal mocks our plight. The bodies of the Poogse’s minions we killed have started to rot and the smell is terrible. We’re battered and running low on supplies. Ruby passes around little magical berries called “good berries”, each one an entire meal.

  “I need to tell you something,” Ruby starts. “I was a healer. One of those few humans blessed with supernatural gifts, brought into the supernatural world by good people. They trained me, nurtured me and, together, we traveled the world, helping those who couldn’t help themselves.

  “I was bitten in Africa during a mission. I didn’t know that it was a werewolf that bit me. I was very sick for days after, but we assumed it was African fever. But when I got better, I was noticeably faster, stronger, more athletic. My peers thought it was some latent power I was coming into and sent me home. I transformed for the first time at my parents’ home – my normal human parents who loved me more than anything in the world.

  “I woke up. My childhood bedroom of fairies, pinks, and unicorns splashed with blood. Claw and bite marks dug into the walls and door. When I tried to get out, I found it barricaded. When I went to sit back down on my blood-covered bed, I found an arm … my mother’s wedding ring still on a delicate finger.

  “My father eventually un-barricaded the room. My mother was at the hospital, but the human police were on their way. I needed to run, and I did. I have a few friends who did what they could to help me. But I have been running ever since. I’m looking for a cure, or at least acceptance. If a monster can find that? I don’t really know what I’m looking for. I just run. My two natures constantly battling inside of me.”

  “That was a beautiful back story,” Dillon tells Lynda as she looks up from the paper she was reading from.

  “Thank you,” Lynda responds sincerely. I look down and frown at my lap. I still have no idea what makes Nozomi, Nozomi.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Reality, 24 Hour Fitness

  24 Hour Fitness is a chain of gyms. Inexpensive to join, filled with equipment of various eras, mostly clean, and sparsely decorated. The gym caters to undiscerning folk who just want to work out and don’t mind bringing their own towel.

  Joe Smartin

  The gym is my sanctuary. It’s the place I go to leave my problems behind and just focus on myself. No work, no drama, nothing complicated. It’s just me versus my own goals. I have regulars that I see in the mornings and a few gym buddies, but no one I know is here on a Saturday evening. Or was here.

  I find myself standing behind the gym’s punching bag. It’s hanging in the corner of one of the aerobics rooms. Mirrors line each wall and reflect each other in an infinite loop of bright colors. Sandy is going to town on the bag. Currently, what her punches lack in strength and skill, they make up for in pure speed and anger. Real anger. As she keeps punching, tears leak out of the sides of her eyes.

  Her text message had nothing to do with punching the bag or going to a gym, but when I mentioned I was at the gym, and this is how I relieve stress, she jumped at the chance to join me. But now that she’s here, I’m at a loss of what to do.

  She finally screams at the bag and hits it with both her fists. I feel the weight of it push against me and I still it so it can’t swing back and hit her. She rubs at her eyes with the back of my boxing gloves and glares at me as if challenging me to say something.

  I don’t. Instead, I grab the back of her head and pull her into my chest for a big bear hug. She melts into me for a moment and I feel her body shutter with one more sob before she stiffly pulls away.

  “You smell terrible,” she snaps.

  “And you smell like hard work,” I snap back. She has not been friendly with me since arriving. Why did I invite her here? The gym is my space. And, of course, I smell. I’ve been sweating for over an hour.

  Her eyes widen in surprise for a moment before they narrow. Her hands start pawing at each other, trying to get the gloves off. “You wouldn’t know what hard work smelled like if it was stuck under your nose,” she states flatly. Her movements to get the gloves off starts to get desperate.

  “Your hard work is so covered in bullshit, I’m surprised you even know what it smells like,” I growl angrily.

  “My bullshit?” Sandy hisses. “What about your bullshit?”

  I take two steps toward her and she steps back, as if I’m going to hit her. I grab one of my gloves. The sound of ripping Velcro echoes in the empty room. More genteelly, I start unwrapping the wrist supports I had covered her tiny hands in earlier. I can see the start of bruises on her knuckles despite my efforts. It’s easy to hurt yourself when you don’t know what you’re doing.

  “I am not doing this,” I say quietly. “I don’t know what happened to you. I don’t know why you’re antagonizing me. I have not and will never hit a woman, especially not you.” I finish unwrapping her first hand and reach for the second. The sound of ripping Velcro once again fills the quiet room. I can hear Sandy’s breathing slow.

  “I’m sorry, Joe,” she says quietly, studying her feet like a scolded child. “I’m confused. I’m hurt. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Maybe it would help to talk about it.”

  “Talking about things makes them real.” Sandy looks up at me and my anger and annoyance just melt.

  I pull her into my arms again and bend down to brush a kiss against the top of her head. “It’s real even if you don’t talk about it.” I think of my drunk father and my mother that spent her life living a fantasy reality. Anything to not deal with her truths.

  “I’m an idiot,” she says, her voice muffled in my shirt.

  “We’re all idiots in our own special way.” I hold her lightly in my arms as she very slowly tells me about a nameless childhood friend, who became her first lover, her first heartbreak, and had until very recently been using her to do exactly what broke her heart in the first place. I feel my blood boil when she finishes her very short, edited story.

  “I don’t know if I feel better,” she confesses, her voice almost sounding hopeful.

  “Well, I don’t. I want to punch him in the face,” I say. I motion my gloves. “Pass those gloves. My turn to hit the bag.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Reality, Bela Casa Construction, Home Development

  Patterns, habits, repetition. Like magic, once we form these they are difficult to break. Good or bad, right or wrong, they are what most of us live by even if we don’t want to.

  Sandy Yuhi

  I knew my luck avoiding Amorino would run out. This morning I found him seated at my desk waiting for me. Devon, nowhere to be seen. My hands ball into fists, the bruises coating my knuckles protest, but also give me strength.

  I’d pretended to hit Amorino for everything. From borrowing things as kid
s that he never returned, to teasing me for my math awards in high school, for cheating on me, and now this situation. That’s not my fault, as much as I feel that it is.

  “He lied to you, he used you, he’s not worth the ground you walk on.” Joe had said over and over last night. And I repeat them to myself now. My history with Amorino and my fear of losing something I might not be able to find again, have made me putty in his hands. But not again. The layers of dirt I look through, and the habits I have created for myself need to stop; It’s just easier said than done.

  “Hello.” I move to my desk and put my purse down. “Do you need something, sir?”

  “Sir? We are formal now,” Amorino teases. He stands and a hand caresses my cheek. “If we’re using new vocabulary, I can think of better places to try it out.”

  His voice and fingers send shivers of pleasure down to places they shouldn’t, but Joe’s words repeat themselves in my head. I hear the sound of a slap before I realize that I have moved. “Don’t touch me,” I say coldly. “You lied to me.”

  Amorino touches the cheek I slapped and looks at me like a deer caught in blinding headlights. Confusion clouds his handsome face for a moment. I’ve never slapped him before. Not even when I found out he’d been cheating on me. His mouth twitches into a smile.

  “If it was some adventure in the bedroom you wanted, all you had to do was ask,” he purrs.

  I step back quickly this time and prop open the door so anyone who wants to can see inside. “I need to do my inspection for today and get the paperwork going for you to find my replacement.”