Lucky Heart

Across from the future Starlight Museum was the Lucky Heart casino. Its manager and quote-unquote owner stewed in his office overlooking the floor. He was a metahuman with a red squirrel soul, his slender build fitted perfectly inside a meticulously-tailored suit. This was a big day, and there was a certain voice in his head that wasn’t letting him forget it.

Don’t make any mistakes on this, it said. You won’t like what happens if you do.

“Would you shut the fuck up for three seconds?” He wasn’t usually in the habit of talking back to the thing with its claws around his soul, but he was on a short fuse today. “You’ll get your damn meal, and we both know the plan. You’re not getting it any faster by threatening me.”

Oh, I’ll definitely get a meal.

The implication, as always, would that it would eat him if he wasn’t nice to it. He’d heard this one before. “You’re annoying.”

His name was Gin LaChance, and the voice was a thing with no name or identity beyond its hunger. He’d tried to come up with something, offering it a series of possible names, but it had rejected every single one. So it was simply ‘the demon.’

Gin brought his bushy tail around to his front for another brush with a delicate, thin bristled comb. Maintaining one’s image was important, especially when stuck in Starlight, miles from his usual sources of product. That was why he was here, after all— to show he could make it in a city where wealth didn’t even exist, and without any help from the family.

Really, though, he was just killing time. It was the late morning, the casino was closed and his ‘appointment’ was still an hour away. The roulette wheels and card tables held their breath and awaited that glorious moment when they became the judges of fortune for the people of the city.

There was a rapping at the office door, light and timid. There was only one person who’d be knocking on his door like that.

“Come on in!”

He kicked the floor with his foot to slickly rotate his chair towards the door, completing the movement just in time to see his assistant, Forrest, quietly slip inside. The black strips of his badger pelt were particularly shiny and attractive this morning. A cute, timid boy, but his mind was sharp. When it came to organization, nobody was better. Gin’s brother would have passed him up for not kissing enough ass, but Gin knew better. If you have a guy like Forrest, you keep him happy, even when he doesn’t ask for anything. That way, you win his eternal loyalty.

“Mister LaChance, sir?”

Gin let all his worries stuff themselves into the back of his mind. Never let the staff see doubt. “How’re things looking out there?”

Forrest bowed just slightly. “No movement yet, but we’re ready when you are.”

“It’s the world that has to get ready, m’boy.” He was actually about a year younger than the badger. “As my mother always says: Luck is half born and half worn.”

“I know, but this… could be dangerous. Witches have all kinds of dark magic at their disposal, right?”

Gin swept a speck of dust from his employee’s shoulder. “These uniforms are great, you know. The little vests? Fantastic. You did a great job pulling this together.”

“Thank you, sir. But—

“-And tonight, you don’t even need to do something half as difficult. Just deal. I’ve got everything else accounted for. Win or lose, we get eyes on the Heart. Understand? The outcome doesn’t matter.”

Forrest nodded slowly, seeming to pull himself together as he digested and internalized the lie. It was possible that he knew better; that he was choosing to trust Gin simply because it was easier. That was smart. It was how someone like him could survive in the world. As for Gin, he was betting his soul. He could only survive by winning, and he could only thrive with Forrest’s support.

“Come on,” he said, and beckoned his little buddy outside. Gin pushed his glasses up his nose, even though they were enchanted to stay up on their own. It was important to look good— he was about to challenge the Tolling Witch herself.

—

Daniel couldn’t help but feel that he was the only human in Starlight. He’d been told that they existed, but he hadn’t seen a single one since arriving. And he was lost! Lace had gone so far as to draw him a map on paper— he only needed to find an artificer who could set him up with a magic phone, then he’d have access to real-time guidance. The problem was that halfway down the route Lace had drawn him, he’d run into a brick wall where the road should have been— The city had rearranged itself overnight. It was either turn around or bother someone, and either choice made him feel like a child.

The fight for independence was already going badly.

To his left, there were the cobblestone streets he was used to, drenched in the morning sun. To his right were asphalt roads not unlike his own home. Apparently, the city could grow any of it, and driving a car into town was likely to result in a stranding. There was plenty of foot traffic, though, and Daniel searched carefully for the animal or creature who seemed least judgmental. The goat was too trendy, and the poofy samoyed looked annoyed, probably because of the humidity. Neither of them were suitable.

There! Coming down the way and looking distracted was a fluffy gray cat-person in a ridiculous purple coat and witch hat. Probably not an actual witch— July was a real witch and she dressed normal. An eccentric was less likely to mock him. Or was everyone else more likely to mock him for speaking to an eccentric? Whatever. Down here, he was the weird one, and he had to take the chance before anything happened to change his mind. If he didn’t, he’d be here all day.

He flagged the cat down. “Um, excuse me?”

They stopped short and blinked twice, as if they hadn’t noticed him at all and couldn’t figure out where his voice was coming from. When they realized he was speaking to them, their eyes widened and their gaze locked directly onto him, as if they had glimpsed an oasis in the desert. Daniel was suddenly deeply certain that he’d made a mistake.

“Good day!” said the cat. “If I don’t miss my guesses, you’re not a local, are you?”

“…Right. I was just looking for directions.”

“Of course! Anywhere! I’ll walk you there myself if I must.” Oh, this was definitely going to turn out badly.

“I don’t need that much! I’m actually in a rush, so-

“Even so, this is a confusing city, isn’t it? Directions are only worth so much. Ah, but I haven’t introduced myself!” Daniel wished he was asleep. Or dead. “The name’s Pewter Undermoon, the Cosmic Witch.”

Oh. “A witch?”

“Naturally! It would be ridiculous to introduce myself as such otherwise!” They were pacing around and attracting only the smallest amount of bemused attention, but it felt like the dam was about to break at any moment. Maybe they wanted him to buy something, or work for them, or just do them a favor, but it was something. And he wasn’t sure that they were telling the truth about being a witch, either— July had told him that witches weren’t welcome as permanent residents of Starlight.

“I’m Daniel. Daniel Wells. So… are you also from out of town?”

“Well! I’m new to the area, but I do live here. Well, not exactly here. Nearby. Ah, that’s assuming I can find someone able to do me a small favor.”

“Sorry, I’m busy.” Daniel made a run around the cat, trying to get out of this situation before it turned into even more of a hassle than it already had. Like any good salesman, this Undermoon was persistent, and grabbed at him as he passed. Daniel twisted around to get free, but their little claws had dug into his jacket, and it partly slipped off of him. Undermoon suddenly released him entirely, looking at him with the closest thing to hostility their babylike face could manage.

“You’re not an ordinary person, are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“That watch.”

He habitually kept it around his neck, and it was dangling free now: the watch, his burden. He’d asked a few people in the city already, but nobody had thought much of the thing at all. Nobody until now.

“You recognize it?”

They nodded. “I’ve never seen that specific watch, but I’ve seen ones like it. And I’ve seen that symbol.”

This was tricky. If this cat knew something about the watch, then Daniel was basically required to deal with them. A few weeks ago, he’d have been excited about it, but he hadn’t forgotten last time. He wasn’t going to be exploited just because he was in need anymore.

So he shrugged and acted casual. “This? I’m just holding onto it for somebody. Why, is it special?”

“How did you get it?” Undermoon had returned their expression to one of neutral curiosity, but it was clear they were suspicious of him. They’d avoided the question, too.

“Like I said, I’m holding onto it for someone. I’m just a tourist, so whatever you think it means, you have the wrong idea.”

Undermoon reached up and pulled their hat down a little, obscuring their face. “I don’t think it can be a coincidence that we met here today, Mister Wells.”

No such thing as a coincidence with magic, right? July would hate that, though. It smacked of predestination stuff she was always railing against. “Maybe not. Why do you think so? To me, this is just a watch with a funny carving on it. It’s not magical or anything.”

The cat looked up at him again. There was a small object clutched in their hand, and their right eye was different. Deformed. No: changed. Their pupil was pitch black aside from a curved sliver on the right side, like a perfect moon shape. This was a magical affect, and the little circle they were holding was a contact lens designed to hide it. It felt rude to stare, but he couldn’t quite stop. Magic was made to be witnessed. To inspire awe.

“Judging by your reaction, you’ve never seen a witch’s brand before,” they said.

“I don’t even know what that is,” he replied.

Clicking their tongue, the cat replaced their contact. A few passerby had turned and looked, and Daniel felt incredibly self-conscious. Was it that Undermoon was strange, or him? No matter what, he couldn’t shake the feeling.

“When you become a witch,” they said, “You gain a mark on your soul, unique to your patron. They can be anywhere on the body, and soul modification can’t remove it. It’s becomes embedded in any ritual you use.”

“Uh huh.” Daniel had never heard of this before, even from July. If all of this was true, then it was entirely possible that hers was just under her clothes, somewhere she wasn’t willing to show off. Why was the cat telling him this, though? Unless…

“Oh, you mean this symbol is one of those?”

“That’s right!” Despite everything, they grinned widely at having their meaning understood. “I encountered it a little while ago, and now here it is again, in the hands of a man being very shady about where it came from! Don’t you find that unusual, Mister Wells?”

Daniel felt that he might have been outplayed here. It also occurred to him that he’d been asking about the thing all over town. If Undermoon wanted to dig a little, they’d easily figure out what he was hiding. “Alright, listen: I have to find out where this watch comes from. It’s kind of important.”

Undermoon smiled cutely back at him. “Then, let’s trade!”

So much for being hardass about this. “Sure. Fine. What is it you want?”

They brightened up immediately. “Okay, so! What happened is: I got a letter giving me a job. More like a threat, really. Apparently, this city has been rather agitated recently, and the Great Sage requested that I deal with a certain problem if I want the city to let me stay. Only, I’m not sure if he means the city will kick me out or if he will. Does that make sense?”

Daniel started with the obvious question. “Who’s the Great Sage?”

Undermoon just blinked. “You really are a tourist, aren’t you?”

No matter how polite he was trying to be, a sigh still escaped his lips. “I’m from up north; it was barely even legal to know this stuff.” A simplification, but he was being naturally defensive, despite being fully aware of his own weaknesses.

“Well, the Great Sages run the Sage’s Guild, but that’s not what matters. What matters is that the Great Sage living in this city could have me driven off if he wanted. He’s got the respect for it.”

Daniel scratched the top of his head. So, he’d wandered into another frustrating political situation. Leaving an office job should have freed him from this. Still, he had to feel a little bad for the cat if this was all true— he knew the type. The guys in charge were always full of themselves and prone to power trips, in his experience. Just hearing it made him genuinely want to help Undermoon for their own sake.

“In any event, what kind of problem are we talking about?”

“A demon.”

Fuck. “I’m not going to be able to help you with that.”

They lurched closer, as if ready to pounce and hold him down again. “I don’t need you to fight the demon! It’s bound to an ordinary person as a host— all I need is for you to distract him. He doesn’t know you, so he’ll be willing to play a game with you, and you don’t even have to win!” Undermoon paced anxiously around in a circle, attracting ever more eyeballs, though nobody stopped walking entirely. With all these tantrums, this was starting to feel like babysitting.

“Just relax, alright? Let’s just find somewhere to sit and you can give me the details.”

They fidgeted in place, but seemed to calm down a bit. “Okay,” they whimpered.

Daniel took them by the hand like a little kid and started leading them towards a little bench that was by the side of the street. “Now, you mentioned a game. Let’s start with that: who is this host you want me to… deal with?”

“Well,” they said, “He’s the manager of a casino here in the city. You’ll need him to challenge you to cards. Or anything, really.”

Now, that was a surprise. A little alarming, even. It didn’t feel very likely that there was more than one casino in the city. “The Lucky Heart?”

“That’s the one!” The cat fell into the bench seat, seeming to finally relax just as Daniel found himself growing more tense. He joined them, eager for a break before things got serious again. And they would. No matter what she said, things that happened around July seemed to follow patterns. Actually, it was just the same as how she talked about rituals: the belief in a lack of coincidences had power. That was probably why Undermoon was so adamant that there was a significance in their meeting. They were probably right, then. Daniel picked up a leaf that had fallen onto the arm of the bench and regarded it absently.

“That’s right across the street from the museum where a friend of mine is. I think I should introduce you. She’s a witch, but probably not the one you’re thinking of. If she knew the symbol on that watch, then she’d have mentioned it.”

“I knew it!” The witch perked up instantly, mood suddenly sunnier than ever. “What’s her patron? What kinds of powers does she have? It’s been a long time since I’ve met anyone else who uses the arts. Years, in fact.”

That had been a few too many ideas to process all at once. “Uh, a time god. So she says. Her name’s-

“Don’t tell me.”

He stopped. Undermoon had suddenly gone completely rigid. They stood up quickly and turned back to him. “Please. Take me to her, but don’t say her name. I don’t want to lose my nerve.”

“You know her, then.”

The cat stared at him for a few seconds. For once, they hid their thoughts, rather than letting everything show on their face. “She’s famous,” they finally replied. An evasion, but not one that Daniel could fully understand. He didn’t even know, really, just how famous Bella July was.

—

The facade of the Lucky Heart Casino was sunken back a little compared to other buildings nearby. In fact, it was a little difficult to see from the street. Gin had decided that it didn’t need to be a disadvantage of he played it smart, and had constructed an elaborate double walkway leading up to the entrance, which passed through two grand heart-shaped arches. There was another one over the entrance, designed to contain a magical projection when he felt like providing some advertising or a live feed of a game. Nobody could walk by and fail to notice. The only trick was in getting them to walk by on what was currently a fairly minor street. In fact, Gin was as excited for the opening of the museum as its own currator— the two of them synergized quite nicely.

But at the moment he was absolutely furious with that little ferret, the curator. He always took lunch at noon, and he should have been coming out with the witch in tow by now. Gin was perched behind one of his own archways staring at his phone at the feed coming from a mundane camera pointed stealthily across the street and nothing was happening. He was just waiting. If the curator came out without the Tolling Witch, he had determined that he was going to… well, he couldn’t blow his cover. Shit, what if she had brought food with her and they never even left all day?

You better come up with the something soon, the demon whined.

“Shut up,” he spat under his breath. “I’ve still got plenty of time, so don’t give me that crap.” He had never quite determined if the thing could read his thoughts, but he hoped not. It had actually succeeded in its intent, though: Gin LaChance was now so annoyed with it that he pulled himself together. All he had to do was trust in the family luck. There was no reason whatsoever to panic.

He was so busy rallying himself that he almost missed his moment. His phone screen clearly showed the front door of the museum opening and two people exiting. The only two people who had entered in the first place: the witch and the curator. They were just chattering away like old friends, completely oblivious to all the problems they’d caused.

Gin only knew the witch from textual descriptions— she was notoriously hard to photograph for presumably-magical reasons. The curator was familiar, though: a handsome ferret man he’d seen going in and out periodically. Even if he didn’t, the witch gave off a certain aura. Between her physical size and the way she carried herself, she’d have stood out in any crowd. Also, she was carrying a staff with a sort of side-ways hourglass motif. Easy. Impressive. If Gin had liked women, he’d have been interested.

His luck held out as his targets didn’t rush away, but actually started wandering vaguely in the direction of the casino. The first voice he made out clearly belonged to the witch.

“What’s up with that place, anyway? It looks so… ominous.”

“Ominous in a witchy way or a ‘testament to the greed of mankind’ way?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“It popped up around the same time as the museum. A bit tacky, but that’s how some people like it, I suppose.”

Gin frowned in his hiding spot. He couldn’t really expect the general public to have good taste, but he’d thought that supplementing the neon with authentic sorcery formulae was appealing to the uneducated yokel and the sophisticated magician. Market research, that’s what he needed.

“Have you been?” July asked.

“Nah. What’s the fun in gambling with fake money?”

There! This was the moment. Gin suavely did a turn as he emerged from behind the pillar. Like his dad always said: speak like honey and stand like a tree.

“Is that so? How about a real wager, then?” He tilted his head sideways just so, to give things a little sauce, and he pushed his glasses up just so, even though they were too magical to ever slip down his nose.

The two of them turned and stared at him blankly for a few seconds.

“What?” The curator finally said.

A sigh bubbled up in Gin’s chest, but he tamped it down. “I’m saying that if playing for fake money isn’t to your taste, there are other options. Real bets. Real value. Are you following me, here?”

The ferret continued to stare, one eyebrow up. Meanwhile, the swishing of the witch’s tail mirrored Gin’s own. She piped up first. “You’re the owner of this place, I take it?”

“I am,” the squirrel said with a grin. “The name’s Gin LaChance.”

Her brow scrunched by mere millimeters. “Of the LaChances?”

“Who else?”

The way she was looking at him showed a deep disdain already blossoming. His name had an effect on strangers. It made some people kiss his ass, and those people were useful, but they were also boring. Bella July was the opposite: the people who were put on tilt at the mere mention of the name LaChance. Gin was already in a much better mood than he had been five minutes ago.

“That being said,” he quickly continued, “You don’t have to stand on ceremony, Madamoiselle. Nobody is rich here in Starlight. Do you appreciate what that means?”

“That you’re the same as anyone else,” the curator finally spoke up to offer his guess. It was close, but lacked the true essence of the point.

“It means everything is measured in glory, not cash. You and I are neighbours, aren’t we? We both took on the responsibility of managing a new business. You didn’t do that to get rich.”

The curator shuffled his feet, averting his eyes just a little. “I wouldn’t call it a business, exactly.” Adorably shy, that one. No killer instinct. He’d need some mentoring if he was going to succeed with the little museum venture… But that was something for later.

“Anyway! Money might not be allowed in Starlight, but bets certainly are. Does that sweeten the pot for you, Mr. Curator?”

“The name’s Wells. And no, I’m not actually much of a gambler either way.” He gave an animated shrug. It was the perfect answer, though. Engaging him had only ever been the sideways path to his real target.

But he didn’t even need to press her. She spoke with a voice that could have chilled the sun. “What kind of stakes do you have in mind?”

“Oh?” He pretended to have only just noticed her, even though they’d already exchanged words. “Well, it depends on what you have, really. Small personal items, sometimes. Or we’ll stipulate that the loser has to do something embarrassing— just for fun. I can’t think of anything other than that, can you?”

She banged the bottom of her staff against the pavement. “Don’t bullshit me, squirrel. Say what you’re thinking.”

Gin laughed genuinely. She had his number. “Outside assets! We can wager property from outside the City, and it can’t stop us.”

“I don’t have any of that,” July said, and as far as Gin knew that was true, but her tone left a wonderful space for doubt. An open door just waiting for his foot.

“That may be true, but I’m sure you have other things to offer. Think of it as… wagering a favor against a favor! I have the resources of my family, and you have the resources of your patron.”

She hefted the staff up into both hands, showing a readiness to use it as a bludgeon, if the occasion called for it. “So, you were after me from the start.”

“You make it sound like I came to kill you, Miss Tolling Witch. I saw the opportunity to meet a famous person, and I took it.”

The look that July gave him suggested that she didn’t believe a word of it. He couldn’t blame her for that— She was right. Success would depend on presenting a case that she couldn’t ignore, regardless of her own suspicions. His target was small, but he had a rhetorical machine gun: Gin knew exactly what she wanted, and she knew what everyone knew: the LaChance family had the connections to find anything. The demon would have been drooling over this standoff, if it’d had a mouth.

Sure enough, Bella July dropped her weapon back to one hand. Her face softened just a little while maintaining an air of hostility. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust you to play fair in your own casino.”

Curator Wells suddenly spoke up. “Oh, that’s not a problem.” He made eye contact with Gin. “I guess you wanted to explain that yourself, though.”

“Go right ahead,” Gin said cheerfully. The explanation would sound even better coming from someone the witch already trusted.

"Well, you had this casino blessed up, right? The city itself is enforcing the agreements and rules, same as the tradehouses.”

Gin couldn’t resist teasing the little ferret. “That’s exactly right. For someone who’s never been, you know my business very well!”

“You made a big deal of it! I saw the artificer, too. He’s a well-known guy.”

“I have the certificate,” Gin added. “If you want to see it.”

The witch stroked her luxurious whiskers, thinking it through. Of course, she had plenty to gain if she won, but she was trying to guess what trick Gin was pulling on her. Nobody trusted a LaChance, and so they’d become experts in the art of persuasion. Or he had, at least.

“I have a few conditions,” she said at last.

“Go ahead and name them.”

“Firstly, I don’t really need to see that certification, but I want to know the rules your enchantment enforces.”

“I have them posted all over the building. By all means, take a look. The enchantment has a standard clause that you can’t be held to rules you didn’t agree on.”

“I’m aware of that standard,” she said with a hint of pique. “Secondly, we agree on the stakes beforehand. I won’t wager a generic favour that you can spin into anything you want.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way!” She was being cautious, trying to close off every possible avenue of malfeasance from Gin while still leaving room for her own. He was already way ahead of her on that: his rules denied any possibility of bias from his dealers and any tampering with the deck— mundane or magical— by any participant in the game. The most people, it looked like a set of rules that prevented cheating. To someone a little more clever, it had glaring holes. Of course, he was ready to exploit that hole, too. As Sun Tzu says: where strong, appear weak.

“Thirdly, I choose the rules of the game. You can reject what I come up with and I’ll modify, but it will be according to my own ideas.”

Bold and aggressive. But, he wasn’t worried about it at all. The Tolling Witch was banned from half the casinos on the continent because of her skill in cards, and Poker was the game that best allowed her to use her powers. This was more a test of his reaction than anything else. “You drive a hard bargain, Miss July, but I accept all of it! Anything to make friends, you see? Either I help you, and we get to know each other better that way, or you help me and maybe I can win you over with my charms while you do it.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” she said. Had it come across that he was hitting on her? Gin had no interest in ladies, but he did have a certain way of speaking. Besides, if he had been interested, she’d have made a wonderful catch.

The witch turned to her companion. “You can go get food on your own if you like.”

Curator Wells shook his head vigorously. “There’s no chance I’d allow myself to miss out on this. I’m a bit worried that Daniel won’t know where we’ve gone, though.”

Yet again, this was good fortune for Gin, giving him an excuse to introduce an idea he’d been planning to slip in anyway. “I can broadcast the match to the street outside! That is, assuming my guest has no objections?”

“None,” July said. She walked past him and towards the door, having committed herself to the match. “You were going to do it anyway, I assume.”

The demon complained loudly in Gin’s skull. It was hungry, and this process was so slow. He told it to shut up again. Bella July had no way of knowing that their game would only be a backdrop for the real competition. Victory was certain, and all it would take was a little patience.

—

“The Great Sage did quite a bit of research which he shared with me, and I supplemented that with some divination. Periodically, the Lucky Heart’s owner, Mister LaChance… he challenges a particularly winful customer to a game. A real wager with some real stakes. Something meaningful, but not deathly serious. From the outside, it doesn’t look like either party has much to lose.”

Undermoon had refused to elaborate on their relationship with July, but they still talked up a storm. Actually, it seemed that they were trying to distract from the subject with this explanation. Daniel was starting to wonder if they actually knew where they were going, but he didn’t have his own memory to go on— they’d run into a large crowd surrounding some food stalls and taken a different turn. The cat insisted they knew the best path. Certainly, they hadn’t shown any hesitation while tracing through the small roads and alleys, but was this really fast? He shouldn’t have trusted them in the first place.

Pulling their hat down on their head against the sun, the witch continued. “He always wins, but that’s not surprising considering who he is.”

“Wait,” Daniel stopped dead. “Who is he?”

“Well… a LaChance. They won a massive fortune off of dubious investments. Not that I know anything about investing, but… the world always seems to twist itself to their advantage in the long run.”

He allowed himself a nice, long sigh. “Is this a magical sort of luck or are we just being superstitious?”

“There isn’t any difference,” the cat insisted. They glanced around at their fellow pedestrians, as if worried they were being watched. Given Daniel’s humanity and their own ridiculous fashion sense, they could be assured that they were. “There are rumors about them, that’s all. They’re very rich.”

“You said that. I’m just saying, being rich isn’t magical.”

The cat glanced around. Something was making them paranoid. “It depends. Anyway, I couldn’t say. Gin LaChance wins his bets— that’s what matters.” Maybe this was an organized crime thing? That didn’t explain the demon, though.

“Alright, so he wins some small bets. Even if he cheats, that’s not really an emergency.”

“It’s not the winning that matters.” Undermoon pointed to a side street, not quite in the right direction for them, but it was deserted. They quickly ducked into it, and Daniel followed. The witch led them behind an alcove where a brick wall was jutting out into the street, free from observers. There wasn’t any nearby doors or windows. It was almost as if this little cubby existed specifically for hiding.

Taking a deep breath, they continued. “Anyone who loses to Gin LaChance is changed. They lose something important in their psyche. Most of them have never really recovered.”

He blinked. “What? Like, they got depressed?”

“Almost. Many of them gave up on their work, or their social connections. In my divination, I asked my patron the nature of our enemy. It’s a demon that feeds on confidence. It’s attached to Mister LaChance, so it must be giving him some kind of power in exchange for… food.”

Daniel tried to follow. “…And, he feeds it by beating people at cards?”

“That’s the short version. He has to give it victims regularly, or else he risks his own soul.”

He considered this information. Really poured over the facts from every angle. “That’s a terrible deal,” he concluded, slumping against the wall behind him. Sooner or later, you’d run out of people to con. He wasn’t exactly sympathetic to this guy LaChance’s problem, and he wasn’t exactly sure what it felt like to lose your soul, but it was obviously bad, and it was obviously inevitable— nobody could be able to keep finding new victims forever.

"It’s dangerous,” the cat admitted, “But it’s tempting to the right kind of person. Demons can do things that would be impossible even for myself. Demons have social power. Structural power. Do you understand?”

“Not really.”

They clicked their tongue testily. “Everyone assumes that the LaChance fortune comes from a deal with a demon. That’s what I mean. The whole family has wealth and connection beyond what you or I could dream of in a million years.”

“Okay, but it’s still not worth it. We have people like that up north, and they didn’t even need to get eaten by an angry monster.” Another thought suddenly occurred to him. “Is that what we’re dealing with here?”

“No. This is a weaker demon. Much more manageable.”

“They made deals with two demons?”

“I’m not sure; the LaChance family demon is only a rumor, anyway. The only thing I’m sure of is that Gin LaChance has a pact with a minor demon. Only one.”

“If you know he only has one pact, and that it’s with a demon that can’t have made his family rich, then doesn’t that prove all this stuff about a family demon is… fake?” He wasn’t sure what word to use for it.

“No. A demon could easily be influencing other members of the family through a pact with only one member. The Family has been rich for a few generations now.”

Daniel was hit with a sudden burst of clarity: he wasn’t going to be able to parse through all of this, and it didn’t matter. “Why don’t we table this explanation for once we meet with July? I’m sure she can explain it to me.”

The cat looked up with an expression that said they’d forgotten entirely. “Oh! That’s right. Yes, let’s get going!” They waddled off with no more fanfare. Daniel could only sigh and follow, thankful that they hadn’t argued. They were both eager to meet July and very afraid of it.

A few minutes later, they were finally turning the last corner to the museum’s street, which was suddenly more crowded than Daniel had ever seen it before. His nerves lit on fire immediately, as he noticed the assembled people were looking to the other side of the street, at the facade of the Lucky Heart Casino.

Undermoon spoke with a characteristic obvliousness. “It’s ominous to see that many people looking at the casino once you know what’s going on, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he replied flatly.

Drawing closer to the casino, it became clear that a large screen was being projected magically over the doors. It was theatre screen-sized; comfortable to view from the street. This was something that Daniel actually understood— In his old job, he’d done some work jamming pirate signals from magical sources. Kids mostly, looking to upset the uptight folk of the semi-closed northern cities. From where he was, he couldn’t make out the picture being broadcast, and the chattering crowd made it hard to hear, too.

“Daniel!” A welcome voice broke his concentration. Lace was emerging from the greater crowd like a creature from a muddy lake, gently parting a pair of cow people with his arms. Daniel relaxed just slightly upon seeing him, and tensed up again when he realized that his cousin was alone.

July must still be in the museum. Something like that. He was just on edge because of the whole demon situation.

“Lace.” He forced himself to sound relaxed. At least, he attempted it.

"I leave you alone for a few hours and you pick up another witch! Undermoon, right? I’ve seen your posters.”

“That’s me!” The cat seemed very happy about being recognized.

“Speaking of witches, where’s July?”

“Funny thing! We were going to lunch, and the manager of that casino decided to challenge her to a little game as a publicity stunt. Guy’s a real character.”

Undermoon took off running, heading directly at the casino. Daniel wished he could do the same, but his feet were frozen. His head swam. He knew, of course, that she could handle herself. That she was stronger than him a thousand times over. That she always knew what she was doing, and probably already knew everything that was going on and had a plan. After all, if one witch could know everything, so could she.

That was right. That was how it was. All he had to do was look and see for himself. That screen, which must be showing her and LaChance at that very moment, seemed to radiate a thousand suns of heat onto the side of his face. His eyes surely couldn’t handle that. They’d melt out of his skull.

Lace didn’t notice Daniel’s distress because his eyes had followed the movement of the cat instead. “What’s up with them?”

“They’re worried about her,” he answered.

“Oh yeah? I guess you need to catch me up. I’m sure you know better than to worry about her. She’s cheating her ass off I bet.”

Cheating! Yes, he’d almost forgotten that. She’d even been telling him at the hotel the night before how she could count cards perfectly and see the stacking of a deck. It really wasn’t possible to beat her. Daniel turned at last to the screen. It showed an ordinary card table from a natural, side-on angle, where July sat opposite a skinny squirrel boy. Between them was a diminutive badger serving as their dealer. July’s pile of chips was the larger of the two.

She was a witch, after all, and a shameless one. Seeing that pile of chips did a lot to put him at ease. It was a physical reminder of his companion’s superiority. Something objective, with no room for doubt, unlike every assurance he’d offered himself. He and Lace and even Undermoon would just be spectators today, all the worry and planning becoming wasted effort.

But part of him worried anyway. Magic was never predictable.

“Lace… Let me tell you what’s going on.”

—

Before the game began, Gin reflected on the crowd that would soon be forming outside. They’d be playing at a table that still had a view of the people out there, and the showy lights that surrounded the transmission device were not just a courtesy, but a threat. He would know they were being watched. Bella July would know it, too. A captive audience, judging and jeering, was the pressure that could turn the coal of defeat into the diamond of despair. The demon didn’t even respect the genius of it— it just complained that the game hadn’t started yet. Irritating, classless thing.

“So!” he started, “What would you like to win? What would you do with the whole LaChance family fortune at your disposal?” Not that he’d have been able to get all of it.

She leaned on the table and brushed her hair aside. Probably more for affect than need. “I want you to look into a certain object for me. I need to know where it came from. Or will come from, as the case may be.”

“What kind of object? Nothing dangerous, I hope. I have the right of refusal, too, remember?” He grinned, enjoying this little game of pretend. Forrest, stationed as the dealer, shuffled quietly. He was such a little professional.

“An ordinary pocket watch. I don’t think anyone’s getting killed over it. Certainly not someone of your status.” She locked eyes with him and refused to blink.

Gin grinned even wider. “Fair enough! As for me: I’d ask for you to repeat your famous miracle from the village of Undermoon. The one that gave you that title of yours.”

She nodded. “I can accept that, provided we do it safely. I assume you want to broadcast that, too.”

“I’d much rather save it for the customers to see in person! Really bring the traffic into my fine establishment. A little entertainment, you know?”

She just shrugged, carefully avoiding anything that might seem like enthusiasm one way or the other. “I won’t stop you. Here’s what I propose: Seven-Card Stud. twenty hands max, starting at 100 chips or whatever the hell you use here. Winner is the player with the most once the twenty hands is up or one of us busts.”

There wasn’t anything unusual about those rules. She’d made sure to specify the means by which the game ended, and she gave herself enough hands to ensure her magic could guarantee her victory— after all, even perfect knowledge of the future couldn’t guarantee a 100% win rate. With twenty hands it would take a miracle to beat her— for an ordinary person, that is. Gin wasn’t an ordinary person.

“I accept.” With a wordless gesture, he gave Forrest the command to deal them in. July gave the badger a stony look, but she wouldn’t find any impropriety there. Forrest knew more of the truth than any other dealer, but he followed the same rules. No dealer would ever be found to have engaged in any kind of backhanded behavior— Gin had promised them that much.

They played ten hands in near-silence, communicating only their bets and calls. July allowed herself some mistakes, but they were small and insignificant. She was actually trying to muddy the waters, to hide her cheating. Pointless, really; if she was any good at hiding it then she might not be banned from quite so many establishments. Her losses being so inconsequential only made it more obvious to his trained eye. That said, he wouldn’t have been able to prove anything.

That said, her face was a perfect mask, and even he wasn’t able to find her tell. Even discounting her magic, she was a formidable player. At this halfway point, July had one hundred and thirty chips, a lead that was solid but not insurmountable. Undoubtedly she would now be looking to extend that lead until her victory was assured. The demon barked and howled, but he ignored it. All he needed was patience and faith. Luck would do the rest.

He was still a LaChance, after all.

Forrest dealt the opening cards for hand eleven— one revealed and two hidden for each of them. Gin’s revealed card was the six of hearts, and his hidden cards were the matching four and the five. It was very possible he’d get a straight flush. July had a King of Clubs revealed, and she stared at her two hidden cards.

There it was. Her fingers tightened around her cards just a little. That was a tell— she was betraying some feeling. Which one, though? Was she excited about her hand? Upset?

“Seventy,” she opened the bet. She had decided to go for the throat. Now that was funny. By all accounts, Gin was about to lose. The demon grumbled and thrashed, pulling at his very soul.

It was the most excitement he’d had in quite some time. He was the immovable object, and reality was the unstoppable force. How was it that fortune could still smile on him? Well, it wasn’t really all that complicated. From the start, he’d been playing a different game. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a new piece, and he understood exactly what was meant to happen here.

—

Daniel watched July go all in. He heard her make the bet and he watched LaChance just smile in response. Something was wrong. That squirrel knew something. It was impossible to guess how anyone could out-cheat July, but what else could explain that reaction?

“She’s going to lose.”

“Maybe?” said Lace. “I barely know the rules, honestly.”

“I mean, he’s planning something. He’s got to be.”

“Probably.” Lace’s face was scrunched up in deep thought. He’d heard out Daniel’s explanation, but he still didn’t seem anywhere near concerned enough. “I’ve heard that Undermoon is a little strange, but if the Great Sage is worried about it, then this is probably serious.”

“So we have to do something!”

The ferret nodded. “What are you thinking?”

Daniel hadn’t gotten that far in his thinking yet. In any other instance, if there was a problem, he’d have asked July what to do. If he was at his old job, he’d have asked his boss. This was exactly the problem he’d meant to start solving when he’d left to get a stupid phone. What was he supposed to do in the first place? Fight a demon? He’d chased a few magical parasites around a building before, but this was on another level.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Lace continued when Daniel was silent for a few seconds too long. “She needs to not lose, right? Do you think a draw is good enough?”

“I… I’m not sure.” He’d thought that Lace wasn’t taking things seriously, but he was wrong: Lace had thought things through and come up with a plan while Daniel was busy panicking. Defeating the demon wasn’t a requirement if they could prevent it from being invoked in the first place.

“The front door is glass,” Lace added. “The city might get a little upset, but we could just break the thing open. Force the game to stop. If Undermoon was smart, they’d already be doing that.”

He pointed at the cat-witch, fretting and flitting about in front of the door after pushing their way through the crowd. The idea of violently breaking the social contract hadn’t occurred to them. Daniel wasn’t sure it would have occurred to him, either.

But Daniel wasn’t entirely asleep at the wheel. He had some worries. “Won’t he call the police? What if it counts as a win for him?”

Lace laughed, despite everything. “There’s no cops here, and even if there were, you said the Great Sage was on our side. The only wrinkle is that we can’t go in ourselves. If we do, it counts as agreeing to whatever terms LaChance set on the thing. If we stay out then it’s safe.”

“You know a lot about this?”

He shrugged. “Enough.”

“Alright, we’ll go with that.”

Lace took off immediately with barely more than a nod, his stubby ferret legs propelling him faster than Daniel could have imagined. Daniel tried to follow, but the crowd was a thick mass, and while Lace seemed able to find the cracks and slip through, Daniel found himself slowed. Stopped. Worthless, really. Lace barely even knew July and he was doing so much, while Daniel just faltered. He was supposed to be her… what, assistant? That’s what they’d been calling him. But he couldn’t do anything in her time of need, so what was the point of him?

In the end, though, it was Undermoon who acted first. They walked through one of the big heart-shaped arches and vanished, appearing inside the building in total violation of the laws of space and causality. Witch stuff. All Daniel could do was watch and pray as they dashed further into the building, exploding onto the camera’s view.

The hands were about to be revealed. There was no way that the cat would get to the table in time. They had to do something to delay the game, like use magic to flip the table over. Or throw something. Or just yell.

They opted for the latter. “Miss July!” They screamed her name desperately. She looked back at them, but only confusion showed on her face. LaChance looked too, but he seemed completely calm. He raised one hand to motion to his dealer: wait.

And then Undermoon doubled over in apparent pain, clutching at their face.

—

It was a few weeks before the game that a prophet had visited Gin LaChance. He’d come on white wings, carrying impossible knowledge of the future. Well, Gin didn’t believe it at first; he had plenty of experience with charlatans of all types. Anything could be faked. Everything could be an illusion. Everything except victory: the prophet had beaten Gin over and over, in every single game of chance he knew. He didn’t bet anything, though. He didn’t want anything in return. The prophet had come to offer advice, and nothing more. He was a witch, he said, and his patron demanded it.

“There are other witches in this world,” he’d said, “and the Great Sage will soon hire one to assassinate you. If you want to survive, then wait for the Tolling Witch to arrive, and challenge her. Do it before the Great Sage has the chance to act against you.”

Gin had noticed immediately how strangely specific the wording of the prophecy had been. Bella July was the Tolling Witch, and it was reasonable to assume that she was the assassin, based on what he’d been told. But now he saw things clearly: the assassin was not July, but that clown of a witch from up on the mountain. As soon as they’d stumbled in in a panic, it was obvious what he needed to do. The demon was gorging itself on them even now.

Thing is, Gin didn’t actually know for sure why they were in such a hurry. He had a guess, though, and now was a good time to check it.

“Ah, the local witch. Undermoon, I believe?” He said.

July’s ears twitched. It was almost cute. “Did you say Undermoon?”

She suddenly slumped forward, leaning on the table as if she’d had the wind knocked out of her. Two witches ought to keep that stupid screaming voice sated for a little while.

He gave Forrest the signal to reveal the cards. The badger didn’t look very comfortable, but it wasn’t his first time witnessing the demon’s meal time. Flipping over the cards of himself and July told the story of their game: his straight flush had never materialized, but her royal flush had.

“Congratulations, Miss July. You’re the first person to beat me since I came to Starlight.” He grinned broadly and faced his victims. Neither of them were listening to him. Too busy with their predicament. “Forrest, help our guests outside. They look like they could use a rest before we discuss what I owe.”

The squirrel had such a stupid grin still on his face. Fate and luck were on his side, if those were even different things. He understood, now, why the prophet had told him so much about that watch July was hunting down: he was going to have to tell her about it later on when she came to collect. Assuming she actually did. Either way, the city wouldn’t catch him breaking any agreements, and he’d foiled the Great Sage’s little plot. Gin watched Forrest escort the witches back to the exit, where the curator met them. He’d give the boy a break for the rest of the evening, but he had to prepare for opening. No rest for the wicked.

—

Daniel wasn’t some pacifist. He disliked plenty of people, and he didn’t care if someone evil enough got what they deserved. He just lacked the conviction in his own strength needed to do the deed himself. He thought that if that was a job someone needed to do, it wasn’t his. Even Laurel…

That had changed. He wanted to hit two people: Gin LaChance, and himself. He didn’t have the guts to do it in either case.

The crowd was dispersing already, almost like there was a foul stink in the air driving them away. They gave almost no attention to Lace, July leaning on his shoulder for support, or Undermoon, flamboyant as ever but with one hand still glued to their face. They looked hollow, nothing like the absurdly chipper cat they’d been earlier. July looked out of breath, but otherwise normal. He didn’t detect any fear or sadness in her face, only her usual silent calculations. Maybe she’d escaped the worst of it.

What the hell had happened, though? Both of them had collapsed before the game even finished. And even if it had, July’d been the winner. Not to mention that Undermoon wasn’t part of the game in the first place.

The chinchilla turned her head and looked at him. “Daniel,” she said. It sounded more like she was talking to someone else.

“How do you feel? What just happened?”

Lace interrupted him. “Let’s get inside the museum first.”

Shit. Right. He had to let her rest, first. How insensitive was he, anyway? They all made their way safely inside and took shelter by the stage in the dance exhibit hall. Even among friends, Daniel was painfully aware of the sheer size of the building. So many places where someone could hide, if they were looking to ambush the group. There wasn’t even any reason to think that would happen, but he couldn’t get it out of his head. It was just that, if even July wasn’t safe, then how could anyone else be?

July sat on the stage directly, and stared at her three companions. “To answer your question, I feel fine. The problem is that I’ve forgotten some things.”

Daniel briefly entertained the notion that she was playing some sick prank on him. “…What did you forget?”

“Hmm… Everything? A lot. My patron has been filling me in on some things, but I don’t remember being a witch. Lucky that I am, I’d say: I have a time god to remind me. Besides that, I remember your name, but not who you are.” She turned to Lace. “You’re this museum’s curator, and that’s all I can recall. And you…” Lastly, she turned to Undermoon. “Nothing. No idea if we’ve met before today.”

Daniel sat heavily on the floor. Standing upright was an impossible task.

“I need to confirm something,” Undermoon said softly. They hadn’t spoken at all since coming out of the casino. “Can you tell me how this looks?”

For the second time that day, Undermoon removed the contact lens from their right eye. The pupil underneath was perfectly ordinary.

“That… brand thing is gone. Your eye looks normal.”

“I thought so,” they said. “It would seem… that I am no longer a witch.”