Black Lotus

He watched the brackets. Tia won again, almost too fast. Simon also triumphed, which meant he would play Danny next. He mentally cycled through the decks he'd seen Simon use over the last few months and concluded he'd be all right. More results rolled in. Mike won but Liam fell. He made his way out of the game tables to the waiting area and plopped down next to Danny. "Ah, well."

"Sorry, Liam."

"No worries. It was fun and I won my first match." He grinned. "I'll cheer for you and Mike."

"Don't waste your breath." Simon paused in the act of striding past the table. "I'm gonna send you packing, Danny."

Danny shrugged. "We'll see."

"You don't get it, man. Even if you win, you already lost." Simon's donkey-like laugh turned more than one head as he walked away.

Liam watched him go. "What did he mean?"

"Who knows. He's a fruitcake." Danny caught Joel watching him from across the room. While Joel normally looked down his nose at Danny, today he gazed back with a smirk that was unusually oily, even for him. Unease trickled into Danny's thoughts.

The organizers called the third round. Danny found his seat across from Simon. Contrary to the man's boasts, Danny wiped him out in a matter of turns. Simon slammed his fist on the table. "Fuck! Fucking crappy-ass deck!"

A nearby ref turned, glaring. "Hey. You want an instant disqualification and to be escorted out of the Con? Keep it up."

Simon visibly struggled, then relaxed. They played the second game and again, Danny prevailed with relative ease. He picked up his cards, waiting for Simon to have another juvenile attack.

He didn't. His malevolent grin matched Joel's. "Like I said, you already lost."

"What the hell are you talking about, Simon?"

"You'll see." He got up and left.

Danny found Mike and Liam sitting together. Mike nodded. He'd won again. Danny watched the board long enough to see Tia win again. Three rounds had culled the field from two-hundred-fifty-six to thirty-two.

Only going to get harder from here on out.

Tia exited the play area. She stalked past Danny and his friends without a word.

"What happened to her?" Liam asked. "She used to be so friendly."

Danny didn't answer. He wouldn't have known what to say.

The day wore on. Round after round. Thirty-two became sixteen, sixteen became eight. Danny won again and again. Mike survived until there were eight left, when he played Tia, and fell to her. Danny was dying to grill Mike on her deck but he knew the taciturn man wouldn't reveal anything. He concentrated on his own games and before he knew it, he was in the semi-finals, the last four.

So was Tia.

His opponent that game was a heavy-set man with a thick beard and glasses, wearing a Star Trek shirt that was two sizes too small. Danny gave the man a friendly smile as they shook hands—Rick was his name—and took his seat. He stopped smiling as the game developed. The man's deck was similar to Joel's, with lots of protection and healing. It was very defensive and tough to crack and Danny lost the first game. He did not panic, as he'd spotted a weakness. He reached for his sideboard and shuffled in his four miniature dragons—creatures that could fly over the heads of enemy creatures. He knew he'd guessed right when he played the first one, and Rick's eyes grew large. Danny rode to victory.

Their third game—the deciding one of the match—was tighter. They fought back and forth, forging deep into their decks.

Rick stared at his cards. As opposed to when he'd started, when he had held his cards in one hand and leaned against the back of his chair, he now hunched forward, holding his cards in both hands. Sweat dotted his forehead.

Danny waited. He had Rick down to three health points, though Rick had destroyed his last dragon. Nothing in his hand would help; if he could draw a direct damage spell, he could finish the game. Waiting, he glanced at the board and his blood froze.

Tia had won. She was in the final game.

Oh shit.

Rick sighed and played an Ivory Tower, which would give him health back if he held more than four cards in his hand. Unfortunately, he didn't have enough to activate it. Clearly, it was a desperation gambit, with Rick hoping he could stay alive long enough to draw a few more times. Wincing, Rick announced the end of his turn.

Danny drew a card from the top of his dwindling deck.

Lightning Bolt.

The three points of damage would finish Rick off. Danny studied Rick's array of lands and glanced at his discard pile. He'd counted the four Counterspells in Rick's deck and they were spent. He still had a few cards that might be able to prevent the Lightning Bolt from landing. Danny bit his lip. Did he risk it?

Even if I win, do I really want to play Tia in the finals?

He hesitated.

Fuck it.

He tapped a Mountain for red mana and cast the Lightning Bolt.

Rick stared at the card, sighed, and laid his cards on the table. He extended his hand. "Good game, Danny."

He shook Rick's hand, unable to ignore his own shaking fingers.

"All right," boomed the voice of the tournament organizer through the speakers. "We're gonna take a short break, then come back for the final round between Danny Carmichael and Tia Navarro."

Danny wandered into the hallway and found a water fountain. The cool liquid drained into his suddenly-parched throat. He took a few more steps, entered the hotel's public restroom, rested his fists on the counter, and stared into the mirror. He could not banish the overpowering sense that something was wrong—that something terrible awaited him. His instincts screamed at him to run, to get out of there, to let Tia have the victory. But another part of his brain, ruled by anger and pride, demanded he see it through. He'd not brought them to this point, nor had he refused contact with her.

If she wants cold and distant, that's what she's going to get. He took a couple of deep breaths until he had himself under control. Just another game. One more and you win. Two thousand dollars. You can do this.

He returned to the game. The crowd parted around him, some shouting encouragement. Liam gave him a thumbs up. Mike was impassive and rubbed his chin, as if contemplating something. Danny was only aware of all that on the periphery of his awareness. He concentrated on his destination.

Tia already sat at the table, her back ramrod straight and her cards in front of her in a neat pile. She did not look at Danny as he approached.

He slid into the chair. "Hello, Tia."

She ignored him.

"Fine. If that's the way it's going to be."

Pools of tears formed in her eyes.

The referees checked their decks. While they did, the announcer stated, "Please look to the big screen display. The center screen will display the game surface. Danny, Tia—good luck."

The bracket in the largest screen vanished, replaced by a top-down view of the table. The attendees watched the screen, waiting to see the final match unfold.

The refs cleared their decks. One held out a coin, flipped it in the air, and said to Danny, "Call it."

"Heads."

The revealed coin indeed showed heads. Both Tia and Danny both drew seven cards.

Danny opened his round by drawing a card. He stared at the hand, ignoring Tia. Strategy cycled through his mind. He projected four, five rounds into the game, building his course, and constructing counter plans as to what he would do if she took certain actions. He placed one of his Taigas—the trusty half-mountain, half-forest card—on the table, tapped it, and played his Kird Ape, giving him a moderate strength creature on the first turn. He kept his face still as looked up at Tia. "Turn."

She drew a card and placed a Swamp.

Danny frowned. Black mana? She always played blue and white. What— His mouth fell open as Tia dropped a familiar card, that depicted a black gem in a simple setting. This was followed by a similar picture of a blood-red ruby.

Mox Jet and Mox Ruby. His brain refused to recognize what was in front of him. She has mox gems. But how?

He raised his numb eyes, shocked to see tears leaking down her face. Without breaking eye contact, Tia took a card from her hand and laid it on the table. Gasps of surprise and awe erupted around the room.

Danny did not want to lower his eyes. He did anyway.

The card was simple. A black flower on a plain background. Simple, unassuming. Deadly.

Black Lotus. Power Nine. The only one who had these ...

The thought was sudden and the pain intense, almost crippling. Danny's chest contracted and his vision narrowed to pinpricks. Every muscle in his body tensed and a roaring filled his ears. Even so, the words echoed through his head with perfect clarity:

... Get down on your knees and blow me and you can have them for free ...

... Fine. Let your girlfriend. She looks like she can suck-start a Harley ...

Danny's stomach twisted. No. His eyes met Tia's. He searched for some sign, some clue that he was imagining things.

All he saw was the truth.

He flicked his eyes to the side, picking Joel out of the crowd in an instant. Joel laughed and pantomimed one fist in front of his face, while simultaneously poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

Bile boiled to the back of Danny's mouth. He placed his cards on the table and gripped the edge until the nausea passed. He looked at Tia one more time. Tears now covered her angry, grief-stricken face.

I can't do this. He whispered, "I forfeit."

One of the refs blinked in surprise and moved closer. "What's that, son?"

"I forfeit."

"You're aware there's no second prize, right?"

He scooped his cards into a stack and placed them in his backpack. "I know."

The refs looked at each other, then shrugged, and nodded to the announcer. He grabbed his mic. "Well, since we have a forfeit, please congratulate Miss Tia Navarro on her victory, and her cash prize of two thousand dollars."

Light applause filled the room. Danny scarcely heard it. He stood and gave Tia one last look. Her countenance had changed. Gone was the anger, the snarling. Shock, pain, and sadness remained. Her voice was barely audible. "Danny."

It was on the tip of his tongue. The urge to say something sarcastic, to lash out and hurt her the way she'd hurt him, was so strong the venomous taste of betrayal flooded his senses. He constructed the insult in his mind: "Two thousand dollars. Way to earn that on your knees." The words formed in his mouth. He wanted to say them.

He couldn't.

I ... I can't hurt her anymore.

Danny took a deep breath. "Take care of yourself, Tia." He turned and left the room without another word.

He wandered into the parking lot, not sure what he was even doing. The events of the past few moments barreled through his thoughts as a series of images imprinted on the inside of his eyelids. Closing his eyes only made them starker, more intense. From nowhere, he remembered Raul asking him not to come to the convention. Danny wanted to laugh but he had no energy to put into it.

You were right, brother. I should have fucking listened.

He made it to his truck and fumbled in his pocket for the keys.

"Hey, Carmichael! Where you going?"

The voice. Danny knew it. He slowly pivoted in place.

Joel Jefferson had followed him from the convention. A sneer covered his face. Simon trailed behind, wearing an equally-idiotic grin. Joel stopped ten feet from Danny. "You don't have to leave. Don't you want to see Tia get her prize?"

"I'm going to say this once, Joel." Danny spoke slowly, measuring his words. The emptiness inside receded into the distance; in its place, a spark of anger flared, rapidly building to a raging bonfire of naked, unadulterated rage. His hands curled into fists. "Leave me alone."

Joel laughed again. "Or what?"

The bonfire swelled to a firestorm. "This is your last warning, Jefferson."

"Don't be mad because the better man won. Just because your girlfriend liked my cock better and—"

His mind burst, driving logical thought to the perimeter of his awareness. Danny surged at Joel like a tidal wave. Joel only had time to widen his eyes before Danny grabbed him by the lapels of his hundred-dollar designer shirt, whirled, and slammed Joel bodily against the side of his truck. Joel grunted as the breath was driven from his lungs. His head cracked against the metal and his eyes glazed. Danny released his right and drove it into Joel's gut, then again. Joel groaned at the second blow. Danny clamped his left hand on his enemy's throat.

"Hey!" Simon yelled. "You can't do that!"

"Stay out of it, asshole," Danny growled.

Light flashed in the corner of his eye. He risked a look away from Joel, who was struggling for breath and had gone totally limp in his grasp. Simon had drawn a switchblade and had started toward him. Desperate, Danny leaned to his left and kicked out with his foot. It was a move he had only ever seen in the movies and struck him as overly-dramatic and not very practical.

He got lucky. Danny's foot caught Simon in the hip, spinning him to the ground. The knife clattered away.

Joel squirmed. His breath came in a hoarse wheeze. "You ..."

Danny gut-punched him again.

Simon scrambled for the knife, got to his feet, and ran at them.

Another form emerged from behind Danny's truck, between him and Simon. Danny blinked in surprise. Mike?

Mike's voice was as placid as if he were working a library desk. "Put the knife away, Simon."

"Fuck you, asshole!" Simon yelled and stabbed.

Mike caught Simon's arm and wrenched it to the side. His fist hammered, faster than Danny's eyes could follow, striking Simon in the chin, who tumbled to the ground. Mike plucked the knife from Simon's hand, and calmly retracted the blade. His eyes met Danny's.

Danny returned his attention to Joel, whom he yanked forward by the neck and slammed his head into the side of the truck again. "You got anything else to say, motherfucker?"

"N-no." Joel's eyes were wide with fear. His arrogant bluster had completely vanished.

Despite them being about the same size, Danny was stronger, meaner, and enraged. He knew it and he could tell that Joel knew it too. "What was that shit with Susan?"

Joel stared at him.

Danny raised his fist.

"I told her to go back there when you were in the can," Joel blurted. "Susan owed me a favor after I covered for her when she ran over a stop sign while she was drunk. I said it would help me get back at you. Then I told Tia that you had been fucking Susan the whole time and were making out in the bathroom. I just thought it would create problems. It was a prank, man, I swear I didn't know she'd break up with you."

Get back at me. Jesus, how 'high school.' "And the cards?"

"She came to me later, told me she'd take the deal." Joel swallowed. His eyes darted from side to side. "I thought it was a trick but she was serious."

"And?"

"It was the worst blowjob I ever got. She cried the whole time and when I came, she spit it out, then threw up on the floorboard of my dad's Beemer. He was pissed."

"You gave her the cards for that?"

"Yeah. It's just some Magic cards, man. I can buy 'em back, easy."

Danny rattled him. "Why, then?"

Joel's voice fell to a whisper. "It was a blowjob from a hot girl."

Danny's eyes flattened. His nostrils flared and his hand tightened on Joel's throat.

"Danny." Mike's voice came from right next to him. "Don't kill him."

"He's not worth it." Danny smashed Joel against the truck again, then threw him to the ground. "Get the fuck out of here, Joel. Don't ever come near me again." Joel stood and nodded. Danny growled. "And stay away from Tia." He turned away.

Joel Jefferson, like many individuals who had never experienced real hardship, was slow to recognize the difference between danger deferred and danger avoided. Away from Danny's grip and buoyed by the presence of Mike's seeming influence over Danny, some of Joel's swagger returned. He laughed. "That's fine, loser. But if you want your girl to learn how to give a proper blowjob, send her my—" His words terminated in a crunch as Danny spun and drove his fist into Joel's face.

Joel screamed and staggered, then flopped to the ground.

Danny stared at him, his face impassive. The anger fled, though the cold bitter tang of hate remained.

"I ... I think you broke my nose!" Joel sobbed.

"I only bloodied it, you baby."

He clutched his face. "I'm calling the cops!"

"I don't think you want to do that," Mike said. He gestured at Simon, who still lay on his back moaning a few feet away. "You two followed Danny out here. That shows intent. He pulled a knife. That's aggravated assault, a Class Three Felony. Morton-Thiokol is a federal contractor; probation alone will cost Simon his cushy job. Even if it doesn't, you're an accomplice. How fast do you think he'll throw you to the wolves? Just go home, Joel."

Joel stared at Mike, then helped Simon to his feet. The two battered men moved away.

Danny exhaled. As the tension left him, his hands began to tremble. "Thanks, Mike."

"Sure."

"How'd you know they were coming?"

He shrugged. "I watched them follow you, so I followed them. I thought you could use the help before someone got killed."

Danny nodded. With Simon pulling a weapon, it had been a real possibility. "You, uh, were pretty fast. You take martial arts?"

"Only the street kind." He pushed his left sleeve away from his forearm, revealing a disturbing mass of scar tissue between the elbow and wrist. In the center of his arm lay the faded tattoo of a horned white cattle skull emblazoned in crimson flames. "I was in the Toros Rojo as a kid. Bad gang, in a bad part of LA. We used to burn ourselves with cigarettes, to prove how tough we were. That's why I wear my sleeves down. No one likes looking at the mess my arms are now. I was into some really ugly shit. This is not my first knife fight, by a long shot." He lowered the sleeve. "I'm out now. I got tired of seeing people close to me get hurt and killed. You remind me a lot of a kid that used to run with me. He was killed in a drive-by. I left town a few days later.

"Sorry to hear that, Mike."

"Yeah. Me too." Mike glanced at the hotel. "So what are you going to do about Tia?"

Danny sighed. "I don't know."

"Can I offer you some advice?"

"Yeah."

Mike put his hand on Danny's shoulder. His grip was strong but strangely gentle. "Consider forgiving her. I know what happened that night at Cool Cactus with Joel's friend, and I know you didn't do anything. Tia made a mistake. You're both young. It happens. When I left the convention room just now, she was sitting by herself, crying. I can practically guarantee you she regrets her choices right now."

"I ... I don't know what to say to that. What she did hurts. Not just—" He stopped himself, unable even to voice the words. "What she did with Jefferson, but her not giving me a chance to explain myself. I thought she trusted me."

"Maybe she's learned what her lack of trust cost her."

"And maybe not, too."

Mike nodded. He withdrew his hand. "I'm not telling you what to do and I'm not saying you should put up with bad behavior. If she pulls this again, you'll know she hasn't learned anything. But maybe she did and if so, you'd have someone who's grown up a little. If nothing else, maybe she'll try really hard to make it up to you."

Danny eyed him. "Why do you care so much, Mike?"

The other man gave him a faint smile. "Because I'm the king of second chances, Danny. Considering how much I messed up my life, I know how precious a second chance is ... and I always root for someone who gets one to make the most of it. Some day, you may want someone to give you one too. Maybe karma's real and maybe it isn't. But it never hurts to be on the positive side of that ledger. You do what you have to, my friend."