text: “Gentlemen, The Flop.” With a glint in his eye, The Dealer deftly flipped 3 cards upright before us. I glanced around the ornate poker table at my new friends to study their faces, but the bourbon had rendered their tells nigh unreadable. “Jorge, the bet is to you.” Jorge, the amiable thirty-something to my left, squinted at the cards face-up on the table: The nine of clubs, three of clubs, and queen of spades squinted back at him. “Check,” he said with a sheepish grin, “Gotta pace myself tonight with you cutthroats!” He looked to his left at Hector, the stoic forty-something with a baseball cap. He seemed to be pleasant enough, though “friendly” wasn’t exactly a word I’d ascribe to him. “Check,” he said with a grunt. Even through the bourbonic haze, it was evident that no one was thrilled with the cards on the table. Except, of course, the quiet fellow across from me. The one I’d followed here. “Ten dollars,” he said, placing a red chip in front of him. A mix of chuckles and groans rose through the thick cigar smoke in the dimly lit parlor. “Call,” said the next man, placing his chip in front of him. He was a big man with broad shoulders and a faint European accent. I couldn’t quite place it; Austrian, perhaps? He appeared to be trying overly hard to disguise it. Chips bounced and slid onto the table as each man called the bet. I glanced at my cards, a Four and a Jack, both of clubs, keeping my attention on the quiet man. He’d made his rounds at various poker dens, though none of them as posh as this. Old house, Tudor style on a large property in the hills, expensive whiskey. We were seated in the house’s great room with a large fire crackling in the hearth. The room was dimly lit, with the primary light source directly over the ornate gaming table. The only other light came from the hearth, casting long shadows across the wall nearest us. The rest of the room was veiled in shadow, with tall ceilings and a wide floor plan, making it difficult to truly make out the scale of the space. It was a far cry from the tobacco-stained folding card tables in the basement apartments that he frequented. I’d certainly gathered enough information to confirm his gambling habit to his wife. But this evening cracked open another case of questions. What else are you involved in? The eyes of The Dealer moved to me. “Call,” I said, placing my chip in front of me. His eyes rested on me for a second longer, piercing blue and full of discernment, before he flipped another card onto the table. “The Turn, gentlemen.” He slid the Ten of Spades into the center. The quiet man’s countenance remained the same. Whatever was in his hand was good. Even a rookie could tell he probably already had a straight in the bank. And I’m no rookie. Another round of betting ensued. Of the five of us, the quiet man, Paul was his name, had the largest pile of chips. He was having a good night. The next in the ranking was, unfortunately, me. I hated drawing the attention to myself, but I couldn’t help it if the rest of these knuckleheads were trash poker players. Besides, I’m there, I might as well play like I’m there to win. It’d be suspicious not to. Glancing down at the Jack of Diamonds in my hand, I weighed my options. I could fold now and cut my losses or stay in to see what the final card was. If it was a king, I’d have a straight and good odds of winning the hand. It was a risky move, but I had to keep up appearances. Besides, the money didn’t matter this evening. I decided to hold out for the straight and tossed my chips in while the European folded. The betting concluded and The Dealer made another glance around the table before flipping the final card. “The River, Gentlemen.” The hair stood up on my neck as The Dealer’s eyes rested on me again. They seemed old, much older than the man himself appeared to be. Who was this guy? Did he run this gig or was he just a hired hand for tonight? No amount of sleuthing had uncovered any information about this operation. I don’t normally go in so blind, however this was too intriguing to pass up. But...I was starting to feel unsettled about the whole thing. I was sorely tempted to start in on the bourbon with the others to calm my nerves. Jorge let out a little giggle. “Ah screw it,” he said, pushing his last 5 chips in, “I’m not diggin’ myself outta this hole. Better to go down swingin’!” “Idiot,” grunted Hector as he folded. Paul, of course, matched the bet with a quiet smirk. I didn’t have to think too hard about my decision. The King the dealer had flipped onto the table gave me the straight that I was waiting for - I matched the bet as well. “Gentlemen, reveal your hand,” came the command from The Dealer. He seemed amused, as if he already knew what the results would be. Jorge shrugged with a drunk grin as he revealed his hand. The nine he was holding gave him a pair with the nine on the table. A horrible hand to go all in with; but at this point in the evening the bourbon was doing the betting for him. Paul smiled as he turned over his hand, revealing a Jack and a King, giving him a straight. Called it. The Dealer’s penetrating eyes moved to me once again as I revealed my cards, a Four and a Jack; another straight of equal value. Paul’s eyes darkened as The Dealer announced that we’d be splitting the pot, kicking half the chips my way. I may have been a bit too bold there. Jorge let out an exaggerated yawn. “Well, looks like I’m out, folks!” “Indeed,” replied The Dealer with a cold smile. There was a sudden change in his eyes. A look that was almost... Hungry. A whoosh from my left immediately caught my attention. I snapped my eyes toward it just in time to catch a glimpse of a tall, dark, hooded figure gliding out of the shadows and latching onto Jorge. Inhuman claws peeked out from the dark cloak as the creature yanked the screaming man into the shadows and out of sight. In seconds we were left with nothing but the sound of the rain pattering against the window and a growing dread in our bellies. The Dealer smiled. “To hell with this,” said Hector, hands and voice shaking as he stood up from the table, “I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is but I’m out!” “Mr. Rodriguez,” The Dealer’s cold voice asked, “are you forfeiting your place at the table?” “Yes. I’m leaving,” he snapped as he headed for the door. “Very well,” replied The Dealer with a grin. Hector was halfway to the door when it burst open and another of those cloaked creatures flew through it, tackling him to the ground. “No!” he yelled as he kicked and squirmed against the horrible thing dragging him out the door and into the night. His protests were abruptly cut off as the door slammed of its own accord. “Would anyone else like to forfeit?” asked The Dealer with a wry smile. No one said a word. “In that case,” he said, “we will continue to the next hand. I’m sure you’ve all grasped the true nature of the stakes this evening.” Not even a little bit. I reached for the bourbon and gave myself a pour. The Dealer paused, those eyes drifting back to me. “My, your first drink in 3 years, Mr. Philips,” he commented, smiling. How the hell could he have known that? “Seems appropriate for the situation,” I replied. “Indeed,” he said, dealing two cards to the remaining three of us. Guess the money does mean something tonight . Picking up my two cards, my eyes glanced around the table. The European was visibly sweating; understandable, considering his dwindling pile of chips. Paul was calm and collected. He seemed to be the only one who was not surprised by the evening’s latest development. Dammit, man, what the HELL are you up to? “The Flop, gentlemen,” came The Dealer’s voice, interrupting my train of thought. He flipped three cards out on the table. A Nine of Spades, a Two of Hearts, and an Eight of Hearts. I checked the cards in my hand. An Ace of Clubs and a Ten of Diamonds. Not much I can do with that . The European hesitantly placed a white chip in front of him. “Five dollars,” he croaked. “Fold,” I said, placing my cards down in front of me and looking to Paul. The man’s analytical eyes were examining the European like a cat of the Sahara. He was about to thin out the competition. “Raise,” he said, first placing a white five dollar chip and then a green twenty-five dollar chip, “Thirty dollars.” The European’s face flushed, looking down at his three remaining chips, two red and one white. Exactly twenty-five dollars left. The sonofabitch was calling him all-in. The European’s eyes flitted from his cards to his chips, hand quivering over the table, unsure where to go. Pressure makes men do strange things . With a resigned sigh, the European pushed his remaining chips into the center. “Very well,” said The Dealer. With one of two players all-in, The Dealer revealed the final two cards in quick succession: a Four of Diamonds and a Three of Clubs. Glad I stayed out of this mess. “Reveal your cards,” instructed The Dealer. The European timidly placed his cards face-up on the table: an Eight of Spades and a Ten of Hearts. With that Eight he at least had a pair with the Eight in the middle. Not a horrible hand, but maybe not one to bet your immortal soul on. But again, pressure is a funny thing. Makes men’s gears jam up. Paul was resolute as he revealed his two cards: a Two of Spades and a Nine of Hearts. With the Two and the Nine in the middle, that gave him Two Pair. The European went white as a sheet. Another whoosh and rustling of fabric from the shadows. “Who are you?” The European asked The Dealer. “You’ll find out soon enough,” came The Dealer’s reply with that same sinister smile. A SHRIEK broke the silence as another cloaked creature swooped from the ceiling and knocked the poor man from his seat. The figure turned on a dime in the air, maneuvering back toward the European. To my surprise, he didn’t scream. In fact, the big man nimbly stood and swung his chair at the thing as it advanced on him. The chair smashed against the creature, breaking to pieces and sending the ghoul sailing into the darkness. The big man stood tense, brandishing the leg of the chair, waiting for his assailant’s return. When silence greeted his challenge, he exhaled and turned back toward The Dealer. “I’ll be le-“ I felt the thud in my chest as the creature soared out of the shadows and slammed into the big man’s back, knocking him to the floor. The European grabbed fruitlessly at the legs of the poker table as the thing clamped onto his leg with one of those hideous claws and yanked him across the floor and into the shadows. Silence returned. “Gentlemen,” said The Dealer, breaking the silence, “shall we resume?” “Why not,” I said, trying to keep the shiver out of my voice. The Dealer simply chuckled and began shuffling the deck of cards. “Why have you been following me?” I looked at Paul as he spoke candidly for the first time this evening. “That’s what’s on your mind right now?” “I’ve seen you before. Why did you follow me here tonight?” “Why the hell are you here tonight?” “Who hired you?” “You know I can’t tell you that.” “ Who hired you?” I looked toward The Dealer, but the man just sat peacefully observing. Clearly he was in no rush. I sighed and returned my gaze to Paul. His stern eyes demanded an answer. “Someone who cares about you very much,” I replied, “Someone who sees the desperation in your heart, your desire to provide, and the crushing weight of the debts you hold.” Paul’s jaw clenched. “She loves you, Paul,” I continued, “and she wants to tackle these problems with you.” The man’s eyes dropped to the table. “You can’t do this on your own, son.” “It’s too late, now,” he replied, meeting my gaze, “but if I beat you tonight, I can fix everything.” I looked to The Dealer. “What have you promised this man?” I asked him. “The same promise I made to the others,” he replied, “The opportunity of a lifetime - the chance to be granted their greatest desires. A game with the highest stakes possible.” “Who are you?” “I’m certain you’ve already guessed my name,” he said with a grin, “Pleased to meet you.” My stomach churned at that. I looked back to Paul. “My poor friend, you’re not the only man at this table with a family,” I said, “and I am not going to lay down and willingly die for your mistakes. But promise me this: if you walk away from this table tonight, do not accept whatever this man offers you.” Paul made no reply, but the resolve in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. His course was set. The Dealer slid our cards to us. “Mr. Philips,” he said, “the bet is to you.” “Check,” I said. “You’re not even going to look at your cards?” “I said ‘Check’.” The Dealer looked to Paul. “Check,” the man replied. With that, The Dealer revealed The Flop: Three cards up in the middle. Three sixes. “Mr. Philips?” said The Dealer. “Check,” I said, resolute. “There’s no use in dragging this out,” Paul said, “One of us is going to walk away from this table, and one of us is going to die. Let’s end it right now.” Don’t do it. “I’m all in,” he said, pushing his entire pile of chips into the center. I had no choice but to call his bet. I nudged my pile forward as well. “Well met,” said The Dealer. Since there was no more betting possible, The Dealer swiftly revealed the last two cards in the middle, both of them Aces. “Gentlemen, the grand finale,” The Dealer said with delight in his eyes. Paul revealed his cards first. He was holding a six. Four of a kind. He smiled. I sighed and flipped my cards over. Paul’s smile vanished as terror flooded his face. I looked down at my cards. Two Aces. I too had Four of a Kind. And mine was higher. Paul’s ashen face blurred in my vision as tears filled my eyes. I squeezed them shut as I heard the rippling of fabric from the darkness. The sound of wood scraping on wood echoed throughout the big room. I kept my eyes closed for what felt like an hour. When I opened them, Paul and his chair were gone, skid marks trailing off into the darkness. The Dealer stood. “Congratulations,” he said with that same sinister smile. I didn’t answer. Didn’t move. “I don’t suppose you want to hear anything that I have to offer,” The Dealer continued. I shook my head. “Very well,” he said, “You’re free to go.” -- The wait for the cab was excruciating. When it finally arrived, I gave the driver a start as I scrambled into the back and urged him to floor it. “Man, I don’t blame you for wanting to get outta here quick,” he said as we sped toward the gate, “This place gives me the creeps.” I nodded and turned to look out the back window. The house was dark save for two windows on opposite sides of the second floor that were lit. A figure stood silhouetted in the frame on the right. And I could feel its blue eyes watching me.