Demon's Punish Ch. 02

According to what one of the elders said, taking an enemy on the battlefield is like a hawk taking a bird. Even though it enters into the midst of a thousand of them, it gives no attention to any bird other than the one it first marked.

Past that place was a grand hall with six marble pillars and another balcony running around the exterior. More of the eclectic people in masks bustled about overhead in whispered conversations. Below on the first floor where Gideon was walking, there was a space with six tables. Each table had eleven seats. The goth girl explained that buy-in was $10,000, but being a non-standard tournament for rich people trying to have fun, someone that got busted could buy back in once. They'd have to pay double to get a $10,000 stack, and depending on where in the first round it might not even matter anyway. Furthermore, unlike with standard tournament rules this was winner take all. Thus there was at least $660,000 dollars to be won, but that number could go higher depending on how many bought back in. There were at least 140 people talking, sizing each other up, and sipping on drinks. The room held them all with plenty of space for an army of underwear models to waltz around with trays of drinks and hors d'oeuvres.

"Here you go my Lady," one of the semi-nude men said, ducking into a half-bow and handing a glass of dark red wine to the goth girl escorting Gideon.

"Will you join me?" she asked.

Gideon raised an eyebrow at the drink and shook his head. "I'll take a double of dark rum on a rock."

"Louis," she said, her hand falling upon the semi-nude men's raging bicep, which looked like the crags of a mountain. "Please use the Maximo Extra Anejo for our guest."

"Yes my Lady." The semi-nude man executed a half-bow while still holding a bottle of the red wine aloft. He disappeared back into the crowd.

Gideon's lips curled. "The Anejo?"

"Nothing but the best." Her dark eyes searched his face, for what he had no idea. He felt like a mouse, and she the hawk. Perhaps she was. He felt the psychic weight of her pressing against him, but it was more like a heavy hug than an aggressive display. It confused him, so he didn't waste his time trying to figure it all out.

He caught a waft of lust from her, but it was short shrift to leverage. Since he was running on empty anyway, he just flashed another smile and let his gaze wander back to the poker tables.

"I'll have to ask you to promise not to actively manipulate the outcome of the game. To not be caught doing harm to another here unless they consent. We also ask our guests to refrain from any overt displays while in the presence of the uninitiated. Reasonable precautions all here have promised save yourself as our newest guest."

Gideon felt the weight of her words for any untruth or hidden meaning but found no fault. He'd broken a few people with promises of less weight, and there'd be massive leverage given upon breaking this one.

"Lady, have all here sworn to you and you alone?" Gideon asked.

Her black lips pulled back into a wide grin. She had eight canines instead of the usual four. She laughed. "No, you'd swear by proxy to her grace, Isabella Du Graf, my mother." She dropped into a curtsy. "If it pleases you, you can kneel before her, but you'll find her much less pleasant than me."

Again her words rang true to his ears. "In turn, I receive your mother's protection and enforcement of all privileges, rights, and duties befitting a guest of her household?" Those words felt old and ritualistic as he spoke them.

The goth girl started, and her eyes narrowed on him. "I should very much like to get to know you." Then she smiled again and nodded. "Yes, all in accordance to the Rules of Eld."

Gideon nodded to himself, looking once more at the tables. The thing within Angie needed its food. "By my name, I do swear to abide by the terms and conditions set forth during the present duration of my stay at these premises as a guest of her grace, Isabella Du Graf, your mother, so long as you so promise in turn." It was his greater self that spoke those words with the full weight of his authority.

"No proxy?" the goth girl said and then shook her head, sending black hair cascading along her back with the movement. "Gideon." She said slow, tasting his name for the first time. "It is well suited."

Several of the people around turned to watch them. Gideon noticed three of those were like the goth girl. Pretty girls with porcelain skin, black hair, black eyes, and black nails in black dresses. There were boys that looked like fraternity jocks with pastel polo shirts, wearing leather boating shoes without socks. They had ice chip blue eyes, golden skin, and wild shocks of hair. Then there were the semi-nude, underwear models serving everyone, the closest ones had also taken notice. Not to be missed as well were the strange eclectic masquerade people above. Those right above them had raised their masks for a second, giving him a hard look. Their faces were hideous, bloated things with fat, pus filled pimples everywhere.

She held up her hand and invoked, "By the Rules of Eld holding proxy as daughter of Isabella Du Graf, do swear that we will uphold our end as to the terms and conditions set forth during Gideon's present duration while on these premises as guest."

"Bijou Du Graf," Gideon said, taking his time to taste her name on his lips. It was light and delicate, so much like a dark jewel. His eyes once more swept over her body and a wicked grin traced his lips. "It is as pretty as it is fitting for your mother to so name you." He leaned close and whispered, "So are you?"

There was a look of shock on her face. She blinked it away, but it took a few pretty shakes of her black mane until she once more had her poker face in place. "That's..." She wet her lips and then tried a coy smile on her black lips. "Quite bold of you."

"For one so young," Gideon added, letting his eyes trail around the room.

"My Lord," the semi-nude waiter with the biceps said, bowing and presenting a tumbler with one glistening cube of ice surrounded by a moat of dark rum.

Gideon frowned. He'd caught a swish of platinum blonde hair that had made him think Lucy was here, but what were the odds on that? He shook his head and looked at the waiter. He took the tumbler and inhaled. The smell started smokey then matured into a sweetness that carried hints of vanilla cinnamon. The first sip was rich velvet - not unlike a cup of espresso. The finish was long, soft, and fruity.

He raised the glass to Bijou. "Delicious."

She peered at him over the rim of her wine glass, and then took another sip herself. She swirled the blood red liquid around her mouth before swallowing. "I'll walk you to your table. Everyone is waiting to begin."

As she led him towards the table on the far side of the room. The crowd separated into the poker players and the bystanders. Those playing in the tournament took her lead and moved towards their tables. Each table had one of the semi-nude models serving as dealer. None of the ten goth girls were participating. Most of the crowd playing was comprised of the frat boys as well as normal men and women dressed in fancy clothing. Each table had someone that looked out of place, which Gideon surmised was the poker expert invited to spice up the game. The rich and powerful wanted to mingle with the superstars of the poker world. Or at least the online poker world, as Gideon didn't recognize anyone from the World Poker Tour. In some ways, these people were normal, everyday individuals trying to fit in and wallow in the greedy excitement about the prospect of winning over half a million dollars.

"This is going to be fun." Bijou said, smiling as one of the frat boys made his way to Gideon's table. "Lord Craven." Bijou gestured to Gideon, "Please meet 'Jack D 42'." Bijou made air quotes around Gideon's online poker screen name.

Craven had a wild shock of blonde hair and a black polo shirt with the collar popped up. He ran his hands through his hair. His looked Gideon up and down. "Oh goody, goody gum drops." He sighed and rolled his eyes.

Gideon raised his glass and took another sip.

Craven's eye narrowed, and he turned on Bijou, "Was this your doing?"

She chuckled. "Really, now Lord Craven you are getting paranoid. I gave you free reign over your little tournament."

Craven turned and glowered at him, then shrugged and laughed. He chugged down half of the foamy beer in his hand. He belched and laughed again. "Fuck it, whatevs; I'll rip his face off as easily as all the rest of these pissants."

Gideon smiled a little smile and sipped at his drink. "It sounds like there's a wager there." He could feel the pride Craven had in his skills at poker, mingle with his greed over what sort of harvest he was expecting to reap tonight.

"Don't you even start!" Craven said around another long swallow of beer. "Don't."

Gideon shrugged. "I understand. You thought you'd get some nerdy internet kid, all eyes and greed. Just happy to be invited in the first place. Someone you could feel superior in beating. Maybe feast on his greed?" Gideon sipped again. "This I could drink all night." He sniffed, enjoying the vapors rolling off the dram of rum remaining.

"Of course," Bijou said, snapping her fingers at a semi-nude waitress sauntering by. "Please refill our guest's drink." The waitress ducked and looked up at Gideon with simpering eyes.

Gideon drained the last drop and plopped the ice cube into his mouth. He handed the glass over and shattered the cube with his teeth. Around the other tables the players had drawn cards for positions already. At four of the other tables, the frat boys got lead position. The man at the fifth table with the lead position looked middle aged and normal. He was probably one of the invitees from the Internet. Something about that man tickled at his thoughts.

"Your card?" Bijou asked, holding the deck out to him.

Gideon refocused on her. There were only two cards left. Gideon grabbed the left one. It was a three of spades. He'd be big blind on the first hand, which was supposed to be one of the weakest positions at the table. Craven and a few others snickered. Those who weren't kindred, rich bastards and the trust-fund entitled, looked excited. There was some small talk that Gideon ignored. He didn't need to expend dark essence to read his opponents expressions.

They took their seats around the green felt table. The chairs were hard oak and worn leather. Gideon grabbed his refilled drink. Some at the table had water or nothing at all. Craven continued to pound beers and belch. There was a white haired lady sipping at a white wine and an old man with a cane and a top hat. Also at the table was a baby faced youth with a Cubs baseball hat and a suit jacket over blue jeans. Another was a fat man stuffing a piece of shrimp into his gullet, sucking it down, and then handing the chitinous tails to one of the semi-nude waitresses like she was a street urchin lucky to receive scraps. A trio of middle aged rich men in fancy suits might as well have been the same person to Gideon. The final two people at his table were a young Latino that couldn't take her eyes off of him and a fiery haired girl that couldn't take her eyes off the Latino. Both of the girls were caked in jewels whose worth approached what could be won at the tournament. There was no greed in those two, just unabated lust.

$10,000 dollars in chips were put before each of them, and their semi-nude dealer worked her delicate fingers first unwrapping and then shuffling a brand new deck. Gideon's dark eyes found hers, and he felt the weight of her desires. She didn't wear a bikini but rather a lacy black bra and panties with a pair of black tights anchored with garter belts. She was gorgeous and all the non-kindred that eye fucked her reeked of unchecked lust and envy. No doubt the losers would be looking to blunt their wounded pride and greedy ambitions in the bosom or pectorals of one of the underwear models. The dynamics of the party were falling into place for him. That's when he caught sight of Lucy parting the crowd like a ray of sunlight cutting through a dark storm.

She was golden and pure, rolling her eyes at the semi-nude models and all the gawking they received. She hadn't seen him. Her baby blues were seeking the mild aged man in lead position hunched over a pair of cards at a table on the other side of the room. She walked up behind the man and patted his shoulder, whispering something into his ear before the billowing crowd cut off his view. Of course, that guy ended up being her father.

Gideon was the big blind at his table for the first round, so he didn't even glance at the cards while they were dealt to him. Instead, he spent his time watching his opponents. He was surprised that most of them weren't all that greedy. They wanted to win, but it felt more of a matter of pride than desire for more money. He suspected that Craven and his ilk got off on punishing the prideful, otherwise he would have expected for more at the table to be the desperate and debt ridden. As he searched he did taste hints of lust, gluttony, and greed from the table. A plan was forming with how to have his cake and eat it too.

One of the middle aged men in a blue suit sat between Gideon and the Latino, whose name occurred to him as being Lavinia, little beloved one. She wasn't Latino so much as Brazilian, which made him wonder what her connection to her grace Isabella Du Graf was. Across the table the fiery redhead with pale skin and freckles like the night sky looked at Lavinia with a puppy's longing.

The fat man intrigued Gideon as well. The man was kindred. He also seemed like he was here playing cards as an excuse to nibble on the appetizers carted around by the underwear models. Insatiable hungers presented some opportunities. The rest at the table were just obstacles. That was until he set his full attention on Craven.

Craven had just received his cards. He chugged his pale ale, while he flicked up the edges of his two cards. Craven had been watching everyone else at the table like any good card shark should, but Craven had started the night sure he would win the tournament. Gideon wasn't sure how the social structure for the frat boys went, but he was willing to bet Craven was at the top for that particular clique.

His lesser self had always hated frat boys, and how easy they seemed to waltz through life. The college was a big part of the city, and the never ending tide of arrogant sun tanned men had always galled him. They preyed on high school girls with the same ambivalence as college co-eds and other townies. They were like a swarm of horny locusts that devoured all chances a guy had at finding a girl in this city. His greater self recognized that even though punishing people of pride held little gain for whatever he was, humiliating another kindred in front of this crowd would be counting coup. Like the white feather, his profit from prevailing would be huge. He thought little about the ramifications beyond that.

Now play had gone around to the little blind, the white haired lady sipping her second glass of white wine, to either pay the remainder of the ante or fold. She set her glass down and looked around the table. Gideon winked at her. She folded.

"Oh, is it my turn?" Gideon asked, looking around as if startled.

Craven rolled his eyes. "Quit being a jackass, jackass."

The fat man chortled and stuffed another shrimp into his mouth. The middle aged men sitting next to each other huffed. The baby faced youth with the Cubs hat didn't make any expression at all. The redhead's attention wavered from Lavinia, to her cards, and then to Gideon. She looked perplexed. Lavinia's smile was wide and sensuous, and Gideon found himself wondering what it would be like to exhaust Lavinia.

"I am able to do this, right?" Gideon asked, pushing all of his chips into the center of the table. "That's called 'all in', right?"

"Oh c'mon!" Craven stood up, his beer sloshing in his hand. "Bijou are you going to put up with this shit?"

Craven's outburst drew the attention of everyone in the room. The play at the other tables slowed. Lucy's eyes widened as she found him, blush crept up along her cheeks, then she looked away.

Bijou materialized from somewhere. "Yes, Lord Craven?"

"He's manipulating the game!"

Bijou arched one fine, black eyebrow. "That is a serious claim." Her delicate neck turned her head towards Gideon. "Are these accusations true?"

"Nope." Gideon smiled and raised his glass to Craven, "Cheers mate."

"Don't fucking mate me, you cock sucking-"

"Language please, Lord Craven." Bijou stood unblinking, her hands clasped over her slim waist. "And mind your accusations, we are amongst guests."

Craven looked around at the full attention of the entire room both there and above. He raised his glass, made to drink it, and then set it back down. "Fine. I'll prove it." He pushed all his chips into the middle of the table. "Call, bi..."

Bijou cleared her throat.

"Call. Let's see what you got."

"Ah, it's not your turn." Gideon scratched his head, "Or did I miss everyone else folding?"

"You...gah...fa." Craven leaned onto the table on his knuckles. He was panting in fury.

Bijou perked up, licking her lips. "My, my, Craven it seems like your wrath is getting away from you." She inhaled through her nose like she was smelling the sweetest perfume.

Craven's eyes flew to Bijou's. "I...no..." His face went white as a sheet.

Bijou chuckled. "Anyway. Is that all or do you require something else?"

"No." Craven fell to his seat, one of his hands spasming around his glass.

Bijou smiled, walked to Gideon, and leaned over his shoulder. "I'm enjoying being your plus one." She kissed his cheek, paused, and licked her lips. "I hope I am not being too forward, but you taste delicious."

Gideon regretted her choice of a high-necked dress. It would have been a great opportunity to purvey what were no doubt pretty handfuls of perky white flesh. Her kiss was still wet on his cheek. She inspired desire, and something about her demure manner made him want to dominate her.

Lavinia had taken notice of Bijou's attention and was watching them with rapture on her face, which only made the redhead across from them fume.

"Some parts taste better than others," Gideon added, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"I bet," Lavinia whispered so soft that Gideon shouldn't have been able to hear it, but he did.

Bijou turned and gave Lavinia a long look. "Be careful Lavinia, I can offer no protection from this one."

"Maybe I don't want any."

Gideon chuckled and cleared his throat. "Ladies, I prefer to eat desert after the main course, if you don't mind?"

Bijou smiled and moved behind him. She started to rub his shoulders. "Please, do not let me get in the way of your main course."

Craven opened his mouth to say something, and then put his tongue back into his mouth, and chugged the remainder of his beer.

Everyone else at the table folded as soon as Gideon's eyes fell on them. Boom. Boom. Boom. They all walked away from the looming confrontation. "I guess that leaves you Craven. Are you in or well, I guess you don't have a choice, but." Gideon paused, looking up at the second floor balcony and the masked people hovering and gawking. "I guess if you want to back out." Gideon shrugged, "That would be fine."

Craven's eyes widened and then his face hardened. Gideon suspected, Craven was looking for some sort of tell. Gideon wasn't playing the cold, calculated game he'd made his living with by grinding out the win over the expected value of the probability distribution of plays across multiple hands, taking into account his opponents prior betting habits. Playing in person verse across the computer required psychological brinkmanship. Plus the colt in him just wanted to run for the joy of running. He wasn't even a day old.