The Long Way Down (Daniel Faust #1)(26)

He paid into the bank and gave himself a fresh stack of chips, mirroring mine. Meanwhile, Carl watched Caitlin like a cat eyeing a mouse in a cage. He suddenly slapped his palm against the table, making the chips jump, and stood up.

“Have to make a phone call,” he snarled and stomped out of the room. Artie and I shrugged at each other and got down to business.

With the signals from his partners gone, so was my biggest advantage. We went back and forth for a few hands while I looked for a way into his head.

“Sorry about your loss, by the way,” I said as I laid down a winning hand.

His cheek twitched. “What loss?”

“That girl, what was her name, Stacie Velour? Heard she drowned. Damn shame. You must have been broken up over it.”

“Barely knew the bitch,” he said, staring hard at his hand. “We just worked together once or twice.”

I tossed some chips into the pot, raising the stakes, keeping my tone conversational. “Weird rumor on the Internet. Somebody said there’s a version of her autopsy report floating around, claiming she drowned two days before the rainstorm. Strange, huh?”

He nearly bent his cards in half.

“Internet’s bullshit,” he said, a faint stammer in his voice. “Bunch of pencil-neck geeks sitting in their mommas’ basements, making shit up.”

“Yeah.” I nodded slowly. “That’s what I said too. Still, I heard they’re going to assign more cops to the case, give it another review. Just to be safe.”

That was all it took. Flustered and nervous with his thoughts a mile away from the table, Artie made mistake after mistake, and I punished him for each and every one. I cut into his stacks of chips like a surgeon with a scalpel fetish, the clock ticking just shy of midnight by the time I finished cleaning house. I didn’t know exactly how much was in my pile, but it was a hell of a lot more than Artie had planned on losing.

“Sure you can still afford the video?” I asked, taunting him a little. It wasn’t bravado; I needed him angry and reckless for what I had in mind.

“I’m good for the money,” he growled.

“I’m sure you’re good for it, but do you have it? In cash? I don’t take checks.”

Carl came back to the table, thrusting his phone at Artie. “It’s your brother.”

He took the phone. I couldn’t make out the words on the other end, but I could hear shouting.

“No, look.” He could barely get a word in edgewise. “No, I understand how important he is to…no, that’s not…yes, I know how serious this…all right, all right, fine. Goodbye.”

Carl beamed with triumph as Artie handed the phone back.

“You’re an *,” Artie snapped.

Carl pointed at Caitlin. “I get her how I want, when I want, where I want. That is the deal. You don’t like it, I can stop holding up my end of the deal and we can have this conversation someplace a lot less friendly. I want her now.”

“Fine,” Artie said, throwing up his arms, “fine, take her in back. Just don’t cut her again, Christ. Or at least clean up after yourself this time. I’m not your goddamn maid.”

I should have been jubilant. Artie was out of his mind, easy to wrap around my finger, and Carl and Caitlin were about to step out of the picture. I had every advantage, every card in my favor. Everything was going according to plan.

I looked at Caitlin. She stared at Carl, dead eyed, resigned.

Fuck the plan.

I picked up my padded envelope and dropped it on the table, pushing it to the middle along with my pile of chips. “I’ve got a better idea,” I said. “One more hand. If you win, you get all my winnings, and the video, and I walk out of here with empty pockets.”

“And if you win?” Artie asked.

I pointed to Caitlin. “I get her.”

The room fell quiet. Artie looked at me for a moment, squinting. “You know what she is?”

I reached around my neck, unclasped the Black Eye, and put it on the table. The sudden rush of power, the whirl of sensations and currents, rode in on the pounding of my heart. I’d have to answer to Nicky if his seer was watching, but that was the least of my problems right now.

“I’m sure you recognize this symbol,” I said, knowing he probably had no idea what he was looking at. “I’m an adept of the Golden Dawn. We’ve been watching you for a long time, Mr. Kaufman. You’re obviously a magus of great power, but we didn’t know until now just how much respect you deserved.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding slowly, “I—I do. I do deserve respect.”

“This is bullshit,” Carl said. “You can’t be taking this seriously.”

Freed of the Eye, I stroked the envelope with my fingertips, tracing the sigil of Pluto across its face and flooding it with a stream of energy. You want this. You NEED this. A simple trick, but with Artie confused and pulled in four directions at once, the crude enchantment drew his eyes like a mound of diamonds.

“Unless, of course, you’re not allowed to wager her,” I said with a pointed glance at Carl.

“She’s mine, and I can do what I want with her,” Artie said, getting up from the table and walking into his bedroom. Carl followed him, arguing at his back, utterly ignored. Artie came back with a sheaf of papers in his fist. He dropped it onto the center of the table.