| Summer Series 2002: The Journey of the Fool Story the 10th ~ The Wheel of Fortune By Kuzibah |
| Disclaimer: Spike is not mine, more's the pity. Spoilers: For "Grave." Archive- Please email request. Feedback- Absolutely. ******************* ~ Paris, France Spike sorted through his money again, and sorted through his forged papers. Even with the sack of diamonds, the amount was small, but he thought he could spare enough to spend the night in a hotel. It was the safest thing, and when would he get back to Paris? He found a car lot and told the attendant he�d return for his vehicle that evening. �One day, sir?� the attendant had said with surprise. �You can�t see Paris in a day.� �Thanks for the advice,� Spike had growled, and headed for La Poche du Diable, a section of the city few human eyes ever saw. Paris, like a handful of other international cities, had a district solely for the creatures of darkness. Guarded by wards and charms, one had to be in the know to find one�s way in, but within was a place that catered to the needs of its specific population. There were hemo bars, and even fresher blood to be had. There were inns completely hidden from daylight, and every manner of blasphemy seen on earth. Spike headed for one of Angelus�s favorite haunts, a casino and hotel called Palais d'Enfer. Although it served demons, violence of any sort was prevented by spells. Spike was fairly certain he could stay there undetected. It was much as Spike remembered it--- a dim, smoky room with gaming tables in light, like islands. The dealers, all human-looking demons, all wearing sequined and beaded masks, kept the action going while less-human-looking demons kept watch from chairs above the floor. Spike moved to the bar. �One pint,� he told the bartender. He pulled a handful of Euros from his pocket and turned one in his fingers, looking at the design until he was served. The blood was human, and fresh, and while Spike tried not to think about where it came from, he couldn�t really, and abandoned it after a few sips. It had been a mistake to come here, he thought. He should just find a nice vampire-friendly inn and wait for sundown. He was heading for the door when a demon stepped into his path. Well, slithered, actually, for she was a lamia, snake from the waist down and, like vampires, a drinker of blood. �Well, well,� she said. �We were just looking for a twelfth to round out the table. Care to win big, vampire?� Spike gave a lazy smile. �Of course,� he said. �My trouble is, I can�t afford to lose big.� �You won�t,� she said, her tail moving across the floor to half-encircle them. �We�re playing Rondolet. If you�re smart� and cautious�� Spike knew Rondolet. A game played only in demon casinos, it involved a deck of cards and a roulette wheel with slots corresponding to suits and numbers, and two balls, one black and one red. Depending on the way the balls fell, cards won or lost, and payouts and penalties varied. Each player �bought� cards from the dealer to stay in play, but cards could also be traded and sold among players. Games often lasted several hours. There were basically two ways to win at Rondolet. You could buy cards low from the dealer and sell at a profit to other players as their potential increased (but also the risk), or you could be holding a card when it hit on a winning spin. The first way made less, but if one were patient, and a clever trader, one could bring small amounts in steadily over the course of play and make a neat profit. This was why Rondolet tables were nearly always full; every casino had players willing to sit and trade all night for a sure thing. The second way had a much higher risk, but the payoff� Spike had seen winners at Rondolet leave the table with millions of whatever the local currency was on several occasions. Spike glanced over the Lamia�s shoulder at the gathered Rondolet players. There were various demons, a few vamps, and one human. Spike was surprised--- one rarely saw humans in the Hell districts--- but the man was giving off the supremely confident aura of a master sorcerer, and Spike nodded knowingly. �I�ll play for a little while,� he said, �only until someone new wants to be dealt in. I need to get some sleep.� He joined the table and exchanged one of the diamonds for a stack of chips. Stakes were high in Rondolet. Play began, and the game was a spirited one; players shouted at the wheel and each other, cards were sold and traded back and forth, stacks of chips dwindled and grew. But as the game wore on, something strange began to happen: the cards Spike was selling were starting to win big. He wasn�t actually winning spins himself, but a pattern was emerging where any card that passed through Spike�s hands and was sold to another player would win a spin within a few rounds. The payoffs began small, then slowly increased. Other players bid against each other for the privilege of buying Spike�s cards. And when another interested player came along, they refused to let Spike leave the table. Spike tried to leave, had gone as far as exchanging his chips for diamonds and cash three separate times, but the other players were insistent, plying him with drinks and other bribes. At last the dealer told them his shift was over. They were, of course, welcome to simply continue play under the next dealer, but the gamblers, ever superstitious of changes at the table, cashed in their chips and left. The human sorcerer caught up with Spike at the check-in counter for rooms. �You had a good night,� he said. �Congratulations.� �Thank you,� Spike said, anxious to get upstairs and assess his winnings. �I could not help but notice,� the human continued, �that you are not like other vampires. That you have that� extra something.� �No need to beat around the bush, mate,� Spike said irritably. �I was there when it got installed, you know.� �Quite,� the sorcerer agreed dryly. �Then let me get to the point. I�d be happy to relieve you of it. In fact, I hope I haven�t jumped the gun offering my down payment.� Spike�s eyes narrowed. �What down payment?� �At the Rondolet table,� the sorcerer said casually. �The transfer of luck to the cards you sold. Naturally the protective wards on this place make it impossible for me to make any winners via magic, but the nature of Rondolet allowed me to work through you as a proxy, going under the house spells and, not coincidentally, earning you a tidy purse.� �What do you mean, �not coincidentally?�� �Call it a gesture of good will,� the human said with a wolfish smile. �A first bid on the purchase of your soul.� If Spike had had a working circulation, the blood would have drained from his face. �It�s a fair proposition,� the sorcerer said. �I get something I want, you get rid of something you don�t.� He lowered his voice to a seductive whisper. �You know you�d be happier without it. I could help you with your other� accessory, as well.� For just a moment, Spike was there: evil, powerful, free of duty or consequence. A master killer without remorse. He dropped his winnings onto the counter between them. �By rights, these are yours,� he said. �I�m not selling anything else today.� Go on to the next part - Justice Main Menu ~ Return to Summer Series 2002 Menu |