“Sure,” I said. “Good luck with that.”
He tried a kick shot. He clipped the red ball but missed my cue.
I had a tough leave, but I made my shot anyway, just barely grazing the second ball.
As I straightened up, the Pharaoh said, “We could start a real game, and play for the answer to a question. You already know what I’d ask, and I daresay you can think of something to ask me.”
“I can think of a bunch of things,” I said. “But I figure that a guy who can move a cue with his mind can move the balls, too, and that just might explain this little hot streak I’ve been on. But I like the way you let me miss one shot, and just barely make another. You didn’t oversell it.”
He laughed. “You continue to impress me.”
“And just think, I’m saving all my best stuff for the poker table.”
“I have every confidence. But seriously, have you thought about the future? More specifically, have you thought about the implications of what happened after I caught your astral body in my snare?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The cleaving into five. I suspect that it marked you, and that whenever you work magic now, particularly when you’re improvising, you tend to achieve your effects by drawing one of the five souls to the forefront.”
Just like I’d told Timon. Jesus, this guy was sharp. “Okay. So what?”
“So nothing bad, I assure you. You’ve set your feet on a noble path. But it is your path now, and Timon, powerful though he is, can’t teach you to walk it all the way to the end.”
“But you could.”
“Yes. Unlike anyone else you’re ever likely to meet.”
“So I need to throw the tournament to buddy up to you.”
The Pharaoh stubbed out the butt of his smoke in a cut-glass ashtray. “You have an unfortunate tendency to put things crudely. But yes, of course, that is what I’m proposing.”
“Sorry,” I said. “If you want to win, you’ll have to knock me out the old-fashioned way.” I leaned my cue against the wall and went back out into the hall.
Where I needed to fix my expression and body language. I’d wanted to look tough for the Pharaoh’s benefit, but now it was time for something different.
So I imagined myself back in Georgie’s coffin. Back running with Epunamlin’s Lugers cracking behind me. Back reeling through the dark, endless house with the floating skull snapping at my back.
Either I’ve got a good imagination or I’d just gone through too much shit in too short a time, because it almost worked too well. I started panting, and a shudder ran through me. I even felt like I might start crying.
But I made myself take slow, deep breaths, and after a few seconds, I managed to dial it back. Then I only looked like a guy suffering from panic attacks, or at least I hoped I did.
I climbed the marble stairs to the mezzanine. Gaspar was outside the door to Timon’s hideout. When he saw me coming, he said, “Here he is!”
“Get him in here!” Timon snapped.
When I stepped through the door, I saw that he once again had a deck of cards scattered across the table, along with an assortment of drugstore reading glasses. The irises were mostly distinct from the whites of his eyes, and the pupils were pretty round, though still not the same size.
I could tell he was relieved that I’d turned up, which meant he still couldn’t see well enough to play poker. But he was getting there. I needed to wrap up the game while he still needed me.
But I’d suspected it might well end tonight anyway. One reason poker tournaments don’t last forever is that the blinds get bigger as you go along. That means you reach a point where you can’t afford to sit and wait for premium cards. My opponents and I were going to have to play more starting hands and get aggressive.
Timon sniffed, pulling in my scent, and the wet sound yanked me back from thinking about the game to the here and now. I hoped that wallowing in some of my nastier memories from the past couple days had left me smelling scared.
“I’m here,” I said sullenly, trying not to seem too much like a beaten, broken man. He was more likely to buy my act if I appeared to be trying to walk and talk like my same old insolent self, but the damage showed through underneath.
“Please sit,” he said, waving to the chair across the table. I hesitated like a dog that’s scared its master will hit it, then did as ordered. I tried not to wince at a whiff of sour BO.
“I didn’t necessarily expect you to be out and about early today,” he continued. “But when the afternoon was well underway, I sent Gaspar to check on you. And then, when he reported you missing, I had to hope our little lesson in respect hadn’t rattled you so much that you’d run away.”
I sighed. “That wouldn’t have been very smart, would it?”
Timon smiled. “No, it wouldn’t.”
“I was just walking. I needed to clear my head, and I… I didn’t trust myself to drive.”
“You really shouldn’t have left, but never mind. I understand you were upset.”
“I need to know that stuff isn’t going to happen anymore. Not if I do what you say.”
“You have my word. I didn’t enjoy doing it this time.” Maybe, but his little smirk said otherwise. “Embrace the role that fate has assigned to you, and I won’t ever have to do it again.”
“I’ll do whatever you need.”
“Good. And there’s no need to sound so depressed about it. You’re going to have a wonderful life.”
“Yeah, well… when I was trying to get my head together, I tried to see the up side. And I admit, Monte Carlo was pretty amazing. To go to a place like that whenever I want, to go anywhere and do anything I want… you were right. I do want to learn.”
Timon smiled a yellow-toothed smile. “Splendid! I can’t promise to teach you to do everything I can do as well as I can do it. You’d have to be born to it. But I guarantee that at a bare minimum, you’ll learn to bend dreams to your own purposes whenever I welcome you in.”
“Can I start right away?”
He hesitated. “If we’re going to work on your magic, perhaps we should stay focused on the waking world for now. That’s what might help you at the table.”
“I know, but… last night, I saw a lot of the stick. I feel like now I need a little more carrot. It might settle me down. Which will definitely help me at the table.”
“Well, all right. I suppose a few minutes won’t hurt. Have you ever been hypnotized?”
“No.” I hoped I wouldn’t end up quacking like a duck.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Timon and I worked on my magic for quite a while. After we got back from dreamland, he tried to teach me how to float a card up off the tabletop with my mind. He probably thought that if I could do that, I could use my mojo to elevate the cut or deal seconds, too.
As it turned out, I could make a card wobble a little, but that was all. I remembered how I hadn’t been able to make the fire-escape ladder drop, either. Obviously, for me, this particular kind of magic wasn’t going to come easily.
Although Timon didn’t let me work at it as hard or as long as I could have. He and I were caught in the same trap as usual. The only way for me to learn to use my gifts was to burn mojo. But I couldn’t show up for the game with an empty tank.
When my concentration started to slip, and our stomachs started to growl, we headed down to the buffet. I noticed that as we passed, members of the Tuxedo Team looked at me differently. A’marie, Epunamlin, Sylvester, and maybe even Murk had spread word of the plan, and although I was willing to bet that nobody had a hell of a lot of faith in it, it made a difference anyway. They no longer saw me as the enemy.
I wished they did, or at least that they were better at faking it. But, maybe because his vision was still too blurry, Timon didn’t notice they weren’t giving me the covert stink eye anymore.
In the dining room, I piled my plate high with lobster ravioli, green beans, and garlic bread-as usual, a busy afternoon and evening of running for my life and working magic had left me hungry-and wandered over to Queen. Most of her children were at her feet, crawling over one another as they gobbled and slurped raw hamburger from several serving trays. They were an inch or two bigger than the last time I’d seen them.