“I beg your pardon?”
Howard pulled at the dressing on his arm and produced the chip Imanito had wrapped there. It bore the symbol of a rock-exactly like’ the chips Beatrice had given them. “Now how do ya suppose he knew,’ huh?”
“Once again, I must beg your pardon, Bob. I have no clue regarding your allusion.”
“Imanito gave me this chip from this club.” When Lovecraft didn’t share his wonder, Howard simply shrugged. “Whaddaya say, Hp? We’ve both got a chip, and now there’s this extra. How’ bout some blackjack? ”
“No thank you, Bob. I believe I’ve experienced enough cheap parlor tricks for one trip with our Indian companion last night.” He handed his chip to Howard. “By all means though, you go right ahead and give this fine establishment its money back.”
“Since you’re insistin’.”
Howard placed both chips on the table and on his first hand he hit blackjack: a queen of spades and an ace of clubs. The dealer stopped with eighteen, and Howard had doubled his money. He grinned with pleasure and let the money ride, winning again. “Hey,” he said. “This could get to be fun.”
The dealer lost the next four hands in a row, busting each time after a sixteen or seventeen and Howard was up to sixteen dollars. Lovecraft was suspicious, but was not sure why until he realized that Howard had never been dealt a red card. Lovecraft paid close attention to the dealer now, but there was nothing amiss about his dealing except for the occasional twitch in his neck-probably just a nervous tic from working in such a stressful establishment. Now Lovecraft turned his attention to Howard, watching from behind as he flipped his facedown cards over to examine them. There was also nothing amiss, but once, as Howard was in the process of turning the card over and it still faced the table at an oblique angle so that its suit was still hidden to Howard, Lovecraft was sure he saw a seven of hearts. He was certain of it-it flashed a brilliant red, but then as the card angled up between Howard’s thumb and forefinger, it seemed to shimmer for a split second, and what Howard saw was a nine of spades. Lovecraft rubbed his eyes and shook his head. He tried to follow the turning of other cards, but Howard never again flipped one at just the right angle.
Finally, Lovecraft pulled Howard aside. “Doesn’t this seem to be the least bit strange to you?”
“What? I’m up to thirty-two bucks already.”
“I do not profess to know much about games of chance, but this dealer seems suspiciously inept. And have you noticed that you haven’t held a single red card? That flies against the laws of probability.”
“Look, I know you see Cthulhu arid your Great Old Ones in every dark corner, but I don’t think he hangs out in a damned casino. Leave me be, okay?”
The dealer was looking off toward the dining area where a pair of well-dressed gentlemen were nursing their drinks. He turned back to Howard and nervously interrupted his conversation to challenge him to go double or nothing on one last hand.
“What-am I winnin’ too much for ya?”
“No, sir. I’m going off duty in a minute. You’re more than welcome to continue with the new dealer, but I thought I should do you the honor.”
Lovecraft could not fail to notice where the dealer’s eyes kept looking. Howard accepted the challenge and won again. “That was fast,” said Howard. “How about another hand before you’re off?”
“Sir, ah…”
Lovecraft pulled Howard aside and whispered, sternly, “Bob, listen to me very carefully. I would strongly suggest that you heed the old maxim ‘quit while you’re ahead.’ ”
Howard took a deep breath, ready to argue his point, but the genuine concern in Lovecraft’s eyes sobered him, and in a moment he regained control of his senses. “You-you’re right, HP. Hell, I’ve got more than enough to get my car fixed up.”
“Yes, you do. Now, shall we see if Miss McKenna has returned?”
Howard swept up his winnings with a flourish and thanked the dealer while Lovecraft eyed the man warily and cast a furtive glance back toward the dark corner booth. There was something familiar about that palpably thick darkness, and a sense of dread made Lovecraft hasten his steps to follow Howard out of the room.
They found that Beatrice was back in the cashier’s booth and Glory was loitering just in front of the bars, talking to her. Howard proudly scattered his winnings on the speckled marble counter in front of a rather surprised Beatrice and announced jubilantly, “Miss McKenna, I just won fifty dollars at the blackjack table thanks to the chips you gave me an’ HP.”
Beatrice was incredulous. “In ten minutes? With only a dollar to start with? Why you must be a regular card shark, Mr. Howard.”
Howard beamed with misplaced pride; Lovecraft rolled his eyes as Beatrice exchanged the chips for cash and counted it out. “Glory,” said Howard, “now we can get that damn suspension fixed so ya won’t be bangin’ your head on the roof no more.”
“I need to talk to you boys for a minute,” said Glory, her voice almost grave. She led the puzzled men away from the counter and her, sister. She hesitated before she said, “I-I’m staying here.”
“What?” Howard suddenly realized how much he wanted her to come with them. It was some unconscious assumption he had made, but now the thought of her staying in Vegas made him feel an unexpected desperation. “But you can’t—” He stopped himself as he realized that she had no way of knowing all the things the old shaman had told him and Lovecraft the night before.
Lovecraft quickly interjected to cover his companion’s gaping question mark. “Miss McKenna, Bob and I think that owing to the strangeness of the situations we’ve encountered recently, it might perhaps be in everyone’s best interests for you to accompany us on the remainder of our journey. Or at least until we can get things sorted out.”
Howard glanced over at Lovecraft, impressed by the subtle way he had just pleaded with Glory, but when he looked at her to see if she had bought any of it, she was frowning.
“What does that mean?” she asked. “Whose best interests? Yours or mine?”
For once, Lovecraft found himself at a complete loss for words.
“Look, I appreciate the ride and all—” Glory stopped in mid-sentence and laughed at what she had just said. “No, actually I don’t appreciate the ride at all, it’s been pretty god damn hellish for the most part!” The men were forced to acknowledge her candor with subdued, nervous chuckles, but she didn’t let that disarm her. “To tell you the truth, I’m just plain scared of whatever it is you two are mixed up in, and I’ve got a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that it’s going to get worse if I don’t get out of it right now.”
They knew she was right. And yet, even with what Imanito had told them about her still ringing in their ears, they had to admit that they did not fully believe him. They looked at each other, both thinking that they must tell her what the old shaman had said. Howard began:
“Look, Glory—ah, I don’t even know what the hell’s really happening here, but there’s something we’ve gotta tell ya—somethin’ the Indian told us about—”
Glory interrupted forcefully, “You both thought he was a crazy old man, right?”
“For the most part, yes,” Lovecraft reluctantly agreed.
“Right, so I couldn’t care less whatever it is he said when you all had that little powwow I couldn’t see. Look, I’m sorry, but I’m staying here with my sister and my little nephew-and that’s that.” Glory stood with her arms folded defiantly at her stomach, but her tone was soft now. “I wish you both the best on this quest or whatever it is you’re on.”
They had lost the argument.
“Thank you,” said Lovecraft. He saw that Howard’s posture was sagging, and yet tense, as if he had not decided whether to accept defeat or explode in anger.