#she put a dent in that man’s wallet and he didn’t even suspect it

[saetoru]

one time when i wasn’t even home my sister dm’d my bf and told him i was sad and crying and asked him to bring food to cheer me up and then when he came she opened the door and took it and ate it herself and literally neither of us knew until later that night when we were facetiming and he brought it up and i was like wdym when he asked if i was feeling better and to this day i wish i was this type of brilliant

[quietpagan]

What Falls and What Grows, ch. 12

   “ …The weed, tough

As the rock it leaps against,

Unless plucked to the last

    Live fiber

Will plunge up through dark again.

The weed also has the desire

    To make clean,

Make pure, there against the rock."

-  Lucien Stryk

 Anglia began to suspect the moment they turned down the alley. She opened her mouth to yell but Alexandra punched her hard in the chest, knocking her to the ground. She gasped for air and rolled out of the way just as Alexandra’s foot stomped the stone where her neck had been. Alex aimed a kick, but Anglia caught her foot and pushed her off balance, and they rolled behind a pile of old boxes, the cobblestones scraping their arms and faces.

Alex pulled back to hit her again, but Anglia swept her arm up in an arch and a line of red streaked across Alex’s breasts. She automatically withdrew but landed a solid slap to Anglia’s face.

“I don’t want to kill you,” she growled, grabbing the other woman’s hands before she could use her knife again.

“I work for the Trollhunter,” she said.

“You bloody traitor,” Anglia spat, baring lengthening teeth. Alex pulled her torso up and slammed the other Changeling’s head again against the ground. Anglia’s eyes glowed in anger and Alexandra simmered hers in return.

“Dammit, woman, I’m trying to help you! You think that Gunmar’s return will do anything for us? At least the Trollhunter won’t kill me if I make a single mistake!” “Gunmar made us everything we are,” Anglia replied. Alex’s grip on her shoulders tightened and Anglia cried out as claws pierced her skin.

“You think that’s a good thing? We had actual families, damn you! People who cared about us! We used to fit. Now even the ones who created us treat lower than goblin filth!” Anglia spat in her eye; the sensation sent Alexandra into a brief panic, the remembrance of Bular’s sword on her face running through her mind. The other Changeling used the distraction to unbalance her, standing and grabbing Alex by the shoulders so that she could throw her against the wall.

“Gunmar made me strong,” Anglia sneered, her lengthening fingernails scoring lines into Alex’s flesh. “And he rewards those of us who serve him with loyalty. I suppose you would know nothing of that.”

The pain was irritating, but Alexandra couldn’t transform or don her armor; if Anglia survived, if she got away, then she would know what Alex looked like, could spread the word – her position as Trollhunter was powerful but fragile, and would not survive her being exposed as a Changeling.

She pushed against the wall to dislodge the other woman. Anglia came rushing at Alex, swift and deadly with her knife held before her, but Alex was the stronger; with her two forms beginning to merge her human body slowly gained strength and durability, and when she grabbed Anglia’s arm she twisted it and broke it at the elbow. Anglia didn’t have time to cry out before she was grabbed into a headlock, Alexandra’s forearm steadily putting pressure on her throat. She kicked behind at Alex’s legs, but slowly, slowly sank onto the ground, until Alex could no longer feel her pulse.

She took a minute to catch her breath, and then rummaged for the dead woman’s wallet, removing her jewelry and scattering her purse across the alley. She emerged from the alley with a minimum of dishevelment, and she tucked Anglia’s knife in her pants and walked away, only pausing to throw the other Changeling’s earrings and horrible troll-tooth necklace over the side of a bridge.

 The gyre trip to Bath was quick, but AAARRRGGHH still needed a few moments to settle his stomach. Alexandra gave him the rest of her coffee and bought another for herself with Anglia’s stolen money. It tasted more bitter than usual. The scratches on her shoulders were hidden by a wide scarf, and the memory of them itched.

Blinky, once he was assured that she was alright, looked almost unforgivably excited. He began spouting off trivia and tidbits of fact about the baths and the lore of, but although AAARRRGGHH was as engaged as he could be, Alex only nodded in the appropriate places. A wave of exhaustion had hit her very suddenly, and all she wanted to do was curl up in bed – preferably on the other side of the country, where she wouldn’t have to be Trollhunter – and sleep for a few good days. Her fight with Anglia had left her with a significantly more sour tone than usual, and she was tired and disinterested in a way that ‘exhausted’ just didn’t cover.

Blinky’s chattering – something that she would have been invested in on any other day – was annoying rather than engaging, and she gripped her stone coffee mug tightly to keep from throwing it at his head. She was tired and grumpy and didn’t need to raise suspicion by taking it out on someone else.

“…And it was believed that the waters, once drunk, could cure a myriad of illnesses and…Master Alexandra, are you listening?”

Alex almost nodded automatically before she caught herself. She blinked her eyes open and looked at Blinky’s annoyed face.

“No,” she said. “No, I’m actually not. Is any of this going to help us find Vendel’s contact?” Blinky huffed, just as the gyre began to slow.

“To know how to handle anything, Master Alexandra, we must first understand the history and context of what we are dealing with. It does not do to simply run in without any awareness of the state of affairs of our situation.”

Alex dismounted the gyre with a snarl, and knew Blinky and AAARRRGGHH were exchanging glances. The cuts on her shoulders and chest itched and pulled, there was an irritating hum just under her skin that she couldn’t shake, and she really just wanted to punch something. The fact that Blinky was right didn’t help, especially since he had just admonished her like a child.

They had been dropped off under the very same bridge Alex had used to discard Anglia’s personal effects, a glowing portal connecting the gyre trail to the outside. A quick, sickening pang echoed in her chest and she pushed it away, climbing up the wall and watching the various night-goers until it was clear.

Alexandra still carried the runestone that Blinky had bought to disable the cameras, and after sneaking over to the baths they quietly scaled the outside of the building.

The statues standing above the main pool eerily reminded Alexandra of the stone bodies of the fallen Hunters, and though they were beautiful to look at she avoided glancing at them. Blinky, oddly silent, seemed to know his way.

There was a clamor behind them, then a soft sigh and the flicker of a flashlight. Alexandra whirled around to see AAARRRGGHH holding an unconscious human guard, lifting him in the air by one ankle. AAARRRGGHH gave her a sheepish smile before he softly tucked the man against the railing and ate the flashlight. Alex’s nerves were still on edge as he quietly rumbled past her to follow Blinky down the stairs. She cursed herself and took after him, shaking herself to try and get rid of her shivers. She needed to calm the fuck down. She should have been on the lookout for a night-guard; she should have seen the man. They very nearly got caught because of her frazzled state of mind.

Blinky led them to a room with a deep, circular pool, one that Alex had glanced at but passed by. The water was pitch black but it shimmered with greens and golds from the nightlights. Blinky hopped over the glass barrier and passed his hand through the water. It came up dry.

“The pool is much deeper than it appears to humankind,” he said, turning behind him and obviously enjoying the looks in incredulity that Alex knew she and AAARRRGGHH were wearing. “In reality is it a local portal, leading to a pocket dimension of similar rooms. Come along, my friends.”

He stepped forward and disappeared into the pool without a splash. Alex swore and jumped over the barrier, following hot on his heels. She didn’t know if there were any goblins left guarding the area, or if the area had been trapped…

With a rush of an odd dark-light, she landed exactly where she had jumped, as if on solid ground, but in a different room, the rounded walls and engaged columns embedded with glowing gems and uncut crystals. A soft thundering made her scamper to the side before AAARRRGGHH landed nearly on top of her.

“Blinky be careful,” he murmured. Blinky, who was wrist-deep in several files of papers, nodded vigorously.

There was no troll slumped over the desk, nor a body hidden behind the clean lines of shelves and books, but the air had the unmistakable odor of troll blood.

How had Anglia done it, Alexandra wondered vaguely. Her knife? Her claws? She resisted the urge to scratch at her wounds, and thought about the woman’s very sharp and prominent teeth. Had she disposed of the body in the river just a few blocks down, or was it still hidden somewhere…

The tidy office was only sullied by a few loose papers scattered on the floor, and Blinky bent to pick them up.

“The stone was certainly here,” he murmured. “As was our contact. Although it seems…”

Two of his fingers trailed over a little spot of purple blood on a shelf, the wood cracked as if someone had been thrown against it. The rubbery scent of goblin lingered on the walls.

“…That she may be here no longer. We need to find out if her attackers managed to locate the stone, and whatever other information our contact may have possessed.”

They shuffled quietly about the small office, none of them willing to make too much noise. AAARRRGGHH took his time looking through the collection of texts on the back wall, while Blinky looked over the contacts’ papers. Alex busied herself engaging both nose and eyes, running her fingers over the roughened walls and examining the various artifacts and collections for clues, while her mind was damnably occupied elsewhere.

She hadn’t noticed the pool was deeper than it was supposed to be. Even in her human form, she could see the troll magic, and she hadn’t noticed the difference. How much else had she missed?

Her fingers dented the wooden lid of a decorated box, trying to jiggle the key without making too much of a noise, while trying to control her temper.

Really, she thought at the blasted thing. Really?

AAARRRGGHH took it from her when she put it down with deliberate care. She handed him the key. The box sounded empty anyway and she was utterly useless. Her nerves were frazzled and she couldn’t get rid of the hum under her skin, and her exhaustion was making it difficult to concentrate on their given task. The fact that AAARRRGGHH apparently could open the stupid little box with no complications didn’t help.

“Blinky…”

Alex turned at the tone of his voice. His back was to her, but she heard him drop the box. His arm began to shake, and she silently walked around him and took the stone out of his hand. Blinky came jogging up, looking ready to explode in excitement before he caught the stricken look on his companion’s face.

Alexandra retrieved the discarded box and replaced the stone, giving it to Blinky to stow in one of his pockets. To AAARRRGGHH she gave her scarf, when his eyes began to water. They left the office and the baths in silence.

AAARRRGGHH made a concerned grunt at the scratches on her shoulders as they anxiously waited in line for the London Bridge, but she waved him off with her best ‘comforting’ smile.

“Bit of a bar fight,” she said.

 Vendel did not take the news of his contact’s death well, and he was less than happy about having a piece of Killahead Bridge handed to him.

“I had hoped…” he’d murmured to himself, his form disappearing within the lit interior of the Hearthstone.

Alex left before Blinky could rally himself to make a motivational speech. Her bag and pockets were heavy with the books she had stolen from the Baths, and she dropped them on the bed to mix with Kanjigar’s collection, ignoring the call of the library.

There were a few people who called to her for help or advice on her way to the entrance to the market, and she quietly helped them settle their problems. After Blinky’s ‘Changeling’ clusterfuck many more of the denizens of Trollmarket were sympathetic and encouraging to her, and although she appreciated the rise in reputation the changeability of everyone’s opinion was rather disheartening. Less than a week ago the majority of Trollmarket thought her cowardly and unorthodox for letting Draal live, but here she was, advising a family on the best way to expand their living quarters for their newest child. It didn’t matter that she had no clue what she was talking about – they still asked. She couldn’t decide quite how she felt about it.

Noon was rising in the human world when she was, at length, allowed time to herself, and she walked to the museum with its warmth on her back. A brief stop in a tourist shop and the bathroom of an ice cream store lent her a decent disguise; she bought her museum ticket and wandered around with all the care of an careless art student.

It was amazing, really, exactly how much Nomura was able to get past the radar. The mural featuring boars with six eyes really caught Alex’s interest, as did several pieces of troll-made weaponry. Had nobody questioned these? Had Nomura somehow explained their oddities into the realms of benign eccentricity? Arcadia was a melting pot of ‘interesting’ characters and history – had it been on purpose?

The notion that Strickler, Nomura, Bular, and the hoard of goblins they kept were not alone as the only magical denizens of Arcadia made her shiver. Trollmarket was safe in its underground nest, but if Bular had an entire army hidden on the surface it did not mark well for the people living in the city.

goes up and tries to find out more about he Changeling community and plans;

although she’d known they were tracking down the pieces, she didn’t know they had actually found any and were building the bridge in Arcadia.

She regrets completely distancing herself from the Changeling community; she should have taken on a different identity, or kept in touch as someone else, or kept up her information. Now she has to guess on who is current with Bular and Strickler and who’s fallen by the wayside, because she’s not sure who she can safely impersonate in order to infiltrate.

Alexandra dutifully sketched everything that caught her eye, aimlessly perambulating around the museum until she reached the exhibits that were under construction. There was a sign, but no door, no rope, which seemed hopelessly easy; either Nomura was that confident about nobody seeing anything, or she had lost a few brain cells since the last time Alex had seen her. Either way, it was broad daylight, and Alexandra took the opening.

She scampered up to a half-finished Viking exhibit, looking under her lashes at the rest of the room while she sketched it. It was rather empty, a little messy, but although there was no gigantic bridge there was a distinct tinge of goblin, and perhaps the tingling remnant of magic. Boxes were piled against one wall and Alex carelessly ambled over to them, adding a little shading to her drawing of the Viking ship’s prow. Every box was sealed, and she dared not try and pry one open.

Around the corner of the room were yet more boxes, some of them quite sizeable. Magic lingered in the air.

A very soft, deep breathing echoed through the space, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

Where did Bular stay during the day?

“Hey!” Alex spun around, clutching her drawing pad to her chest. Nomura grabbed her shoulder and pulled her close.

“I don’t believe you belong in this part of the museum, miss.”

“B-but my thesis,” Alex whimpered, showing her the drawing with shaking hands.

“I just need a few more minutes – “

“Out.”

Nomura quickly but quietly steered her to the exit, pushing her none-too-gently to the public parts of the museum.

“Are you the curator? Can I come back? I just need another look at the detail work that’sreallyallIask – “

“That part of the museum is closed,” Nomura hissed, releasing Alex’s shoulder with a firm shove. She took a deep inhale and seemed to calm a bit. Alexandra smoothed her hair and glasses, her eyes wide and glassy.

“Please – “

“It will be open to the public next season.”

Nomura’s tone brook no argument, and Alex left in a flurry of tears and muttered curses. She didn’t stop walking until she was far into the town, where she ducked into a bank and removed her disguise in the bathroom. Sketchpad, glasses, and lacy overshirt were dumped in the trash, and she pulled her hair into a tight bun before washing off as much makeup as she could. From art student to shabby woman, with a blocky, angular face, a little too tall and far too toothy. She exited the bank with a carefree air, and the goblin that she spotted in the bushes didn’t give her a second glance.

  One of the things she had learned early on was to never think while playing a part. If she had dwelled on her worry about being caught, or her regret about never establishing an identity in the Changeling echelons, or her questions about the current hierarchy in the ranks, she would never have gotten far. But back in Trollmarket she could dwell, and dwell she did.

She heavily regret never constructing a new identity for herself, one that she could merge into the community of Changelings around the world. She had cut herself off as a safety measure as soon as she could, but now she didn’t know who ranked what, who was where, who was even alive or dead or available for her to impersonate. If she had stayed, if she had made herself into someone important, she could have gathered so much more information, been privy to so many more secrets. The Changeling community was not exactly close-knit, every one of them being suspicious bastards, but knowing who was dead or not was extremely easy to confirm, making impersonation a rather difficult and convoluted job. She would have to first find another Changeling, then learn where they ranked, then learn who knew of their current appearance and location, then find a way to incapacitate them long enough for her to impersonate...simple spying would be easier.

Stricklander had always been one of the highest in the community, but Nomura had not. Alexandra remembered her from the Darklands, a mere trainer to those who had survived to be strong enough to carry a weapon. Now she was in Arcadia, housing the son of Gunmar in her museum. Did she outrank Stricklander now, or were they equals? Half of the time it depended on Bular or Gunmar’s mood, anyway.

She seemed to have control of the goblins in any case, unless wherever Stricklander was based simply didn’t have the room. But she was housing Bular…

Alex hadn’t seen any sign of a reconstructed bridge, although she hadn’t examined the contents of all of those boxes, but she knew what magic felt like and there was some strong magic going on in the museum. That, and the fact that Bular had his minions looking for pieces of the Bridge, was more than enough for her to reason that they were actually under construction, or at least had the material gathered in preparation for.

But before she went to Blinky with her suspicions, she needed to do a little research.

She bought a small dinner and tea, and wandered back to Kanjigar’s quarters. What had been fed to her in the Darklands about the Bridge and its history and magic was, much like Gunmar’s origin, probably twisted and misconstrued for propaganda.

Troll Bridges Across the European Continent, The Final Days: an account of the victory of Deya the Deliverer, and Historical Magical Artifacts all looked promising, and Alex hauled them from Kanjigar’s shelves for perusal. The activity of Trollmarket was a distant buzz in the far reaches of the cavern where the former Hunter’s quarters were located, and the business of her thoughts quieted some in the peace.

Her destroyed eye ached, and when she rubbed at it she noticed that the shivering hum in her chest was gone. The thrum of the Heartstone had replaced it without her noticing.

An hour, two geographical texts, and one Welsh troll census later, she found the location of the Heartstone that was located under Wales, where she had been born. Less than a hundred miles away from Bath, underneath the Vale of Neath and the Craig y Ddinas, the Dinas Rock, found within.

Her heartstone, which she had not felt for centuries, had been thrumming in her blood, and she hadn’t realized until she was across the damn ocean.

She’d been less than a hundred miles from her birthplace. From the place where she had been taken. From where she never had visited, nor had thought she would ever visit.

The Bridge conspiracy can wait an hour.

Blinky had several volumes in his library featuring the names and births of trolls all over the world; he was one of many record-keepers. Alex marched into his library and took every record-book written between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries before combing through Kanjigar’s own records and books.

Within twenty minutes she was neck-deep in Arthurian legend and Welsh mythology, and after four hours was taking shaky notes with both right hands, listing comparisons between myths and checking story against story.

Her eyes began to itch and droop after several hours of reading, but she found something in the third volume of genealogies belonging to Welsh trolls and their families. Most of the lines were long dead, though a few still remained around her original Hearthstone. There had been a mass egress of trolls from the British Heartstones and although there were a few records missing during the time of the migration, Alex managed to find a record of her birth family.

She wanted to throw something.

“Lineage of Daghildr the Dangerous, born 1343, died 1630.

Born app. 1050. Daughter of Dara, daughter of Drysi, and Finnyr, son of Ormr. Died 1678.

Children by Rollo, son of Seneca: Nerthuz Alexius, born app. 1338

Grandchildren by Gruffudd, son of Drusus: Blodwen Alexius, born app. 1629, died 1645; Volundr Alexius, born app. 1647, died 1802.”

And there she was. A single, incorrect entry, next to a brother she’d never known about.

Alexandra put down her pencil before she snapped it.

They’d written her off as dead.

Logically, she knew it was expected; not one entry, in any of the books, had logged a child down as ‘stolen by Gumm-Gumms’, but still. They marked her as dead, and to them, she was as good as.

She wondered very much how the many-armed Trollhunter had felt while seeing Alexandra in the Void, knowing that she was a Changeling and a member of her sister tribe.

Alexandra turned the page, and kept reading. The Trollhunter had given no indication, had offered no greeting. She’d probably never met Alexandra, even with the low birth rate of trolls, so one missing child from a different clan wouldn’t have…

…

…She picked up a different book.

I am not going to think about this.

Her mother was still alive, probably her father as well.

I am not going to think about this.

She wondered if her brother had been taken as well. She wondered if he was one of the Changed children too weak to survive or too slow or killed for sport or if she had killed him in competition or –

She was not going to think about this!

Alexandra threw the book across the room, vellum pages tearing free and scattering through the air.

Fuck them! Fuck all of them!

Hundreds of years of Trollhunters’ families littered the floor, and she had to refrain herself from going over and stomping on them, for all the good it would do.

“FUCK them!”

She remembered her family. In the aftermath of the war and the wake of the trolls’ sudden migration, protocols had been overlooked, rules had been ignored; Alex had been taken too late, assigned too early, given to a human family that was poorly-researched and sent in with minimal training. Most whelps were taken as infants, rarely over ten years old, when they were the most impressionable and more likely to forget their families. Alex had been small for her age and was taken too late. She remembered her family. She’d had time.

And they had written her off as dead. She was a shame to them the moment she was taken.

Like it was her goddamn fault. ..

Fervently she scanned through tomes and scrolls, barely taking anything in in her attempt to distract herself. Her lantern gently fluttered the walls with shadows as she absently re-arranged the bookshelves in order of color, glancing through anything with an interesting cover.

“…destroyer of the storm-sun,

beloved follower of the seeress…”

Kanjigar hadn’t marked her name down on his list of children stolen to the Darklands. Had she simply been overlooked? Had her family lied about what happened to her?

“…the seeds of Foeniculum vulgare are known to relieve ills of the stomach…”

How dare they write her off, as if she had done something shameful. Did they even mourn her? And what had killed off her brother? Had he been taken as well? Would she have met him in the Darklands, fought him, killed him…

“…None best the mighty power of she

To the Myrddin jewel beholden…”

She was the goddamn Trollhunter now. It didn’t matter now what they thought of her. Good or bad, she had ascended to the ‘highest of offices’, as Blinky said, had tricked her way into Trollmarket, had wounded the son of Gunmar…

“…And changed limb and form for war…”

Not a single GODdamn person was going to tell her that she wasn’t worthy when she had the amulet pulsing in her pocket, and she would be damned before she let anybody else throw her away like a dirty secret and

Wait

What…was that?

Alex re-opened the book she was shelving and slowly turned the pages, the light of her amulet translating the languages until she found what had caught her eye.

“Through stars and smoke lay many warriors slain

And haunting spirits’ cries all of stone and crystal shook

But fairest bane to darkest evil smote

And to her husband struck a mortal blow.

None best the mighty power of she

To the Myrddin gem beholden

In deadly light of day fearlessly strode the queen

And with dark arts changed limb and form for war.

Oh

OH…!

Alex spent a very long time reading and re-reading the Eddaic poems, and then ten minutes laying on Kanjigar’s nest, laughing until she ached and cried.

Deya the Deliverer had been a Changeling.

And absolutely no one knew.

  A/N: YOU WANT BACK-ALLEY MURDER, YOU GET BACK-ALLEY MURDER! Honestly I was just too tired to write it when I posted last time, so here it is today.

I love my job, but it’s damn exhausting, especially since we’ve only got two techs, including myself. Working nine days at a time is the norm, but we’ve had a couple of two- or three-week stretches without days off. It’s getting better now that we’re using different medications and we’re not managing the seizure of two thousand neglected animals, but I could barely keep awake today. It’s funny because I also can’t bring myself to sleep. I’m going to get less than four hours at the time of typing this and I CANNOT STOP. Why do I do this. Why do I do this. So if this chapter has a note of exhaustion, that’s why.

Take note that this is the first time Alex is being nice to Blinky without an ulterior motive.

Update: We finally got a new tech and the hurricane really cleared us out, but it’s, it’s, I’m sorry. I’m tired and I think I finally just got sick of having this chapter being unfinished. So this chapter was written out of pure spite. I wonder if that reflects in the writing. I’m so done with this chapter. I hope it’s alright because I’m just spitting it out and don’t want to see its face again for another bloody month.

I was going to have Alex be the granddaughter of the many-armed Trollhunter, but that would have been too neat, too nice. I want her to have this thing because she’s destined for it, not because it’s her destiny as the granddaughter of a Trollhunter or some-such.

Some of the poetry is taken out of the Prose Edda book Skáldskaparmál, which I literally just got straight off of Wikipedia. I had such a bitch time writing that damn poem so I hope it sounds okay.

The ‘art student’ disguise is a homage to xerios’s fanfic Burning Bridges, which can be found on AO3 and is super good. As a former art student I can actually say that we can get away with a lot of shit if you just bring a camera or a sketchpad.

And I’m just going to point out that the name ‘Deya’ means ‘destroyer of her husband’. Make of that what you will.

[jerevino]

sink in - chapter 2.

freewood vampire au: first chapter here, find it on AO3 here.

The wait for Geoff had to have been the worst hour and eighteen minutes of his life. Gavin had settled himself in the lobby, jumping at every sign of movement. He must have given the doorman a reason to be suspicious - a jumpy, scrawny man sitting in the lobby at near two in the morning must have screamed drug addict to anyone who caught a glimpse.

It wasn’t his fault that intense fear and crippling paranoia made him look suspect. He’d just witnessed a murder, after all, and that was enough to make any man look insane. In the moment, Gavin hadn’t realized the extent to how bloody messed up the situation had been. Mostly, he’d been worried about saving his own skin and getting the hell out of dodge. But the more he thought about it, the more Gavin realized that he’d narrowly avoided death, and he’d witnessed the horrifying work of a man who had surely killed before.

Which is why he flinched every time he heard footsteps above him, or saw the flashing lights of a car on the road outside. The logical thing to do would be to call the police, and let them deal with the killer on the loose. Except that the killer had his personal information, and the feds didn’t have the best track record for being quick to catch the bad guy, and Gavin was so hyped up on adrenaline that his thoughts were all mush.

When Geoff finally pulled up outside, Gavin all but sprinted into the vehicle, catching his sweater in the door as he slammed it shut. So much for playing it cool, then.

“Don’t you have any shit?” Geoff asked, offering the Brit a quirked brow above those tired eyes, but it was better than what Gavin expected. He’d been fully prepared to climb into the car and be berated for a good half an hour for waking me up from a killer dream, dude -- and its that word, killer, ingrained in his head that sends Gavin reeling.

“No, it was only one night, and I didn’t feel the need to bring much. The cameras all belong to the movie crew, anyway, and the shoots over now, Geoff, and we just need to get the hell out of here.” Gavin spoke too quickly, eyes scanning the surrounding parking lot even as Geoff peeled out.

“Dude, what happened? You look like a ghost tried to buttfuck you.”

Gavin hesitated, mouth hanging open halfway around a word. Dragging Geoff into this mess might not have been fair to the man who’d driven to an entirely different town just to pick up his sorry arse; but he needed to explain his sudden demand for rescue. With a heavy sigh, Gavin turned to offer Geoff his most serious expression.

“You’re not going to believe a word I say, but its true, Geoff, I swear. I saw a man sucking a woman out, and-”

“People fuck in the streets all the time, Gav, don’t tell me you’re scared of a naked lady.”

“No, Geoff, not sucking like sex, sucking like -- Like a vampire. He was drinking her blood, and it was flippin’ disgusting. She was properly dead. And he said he could kill me next if he wanted, but he wasn’t going to, and then I ran like the damn wind.”

Geoff went silent for several long seconds, the only noise coming from the hum of the car, and the nervous tapping of Gavin’s foot on the floor. Finally, Geoff spoke with a stern, oddly quiet voice that made the Brit feel even worse about the entire situation.

“Did you call the police?”

“Do you think I’d be in your car now, if I had?”

“You didn’t call the fucking police, Gavin?” Geoff exploded, hand coming off the steering wheel to smack his passenger upside the head. “I don’t know how they do it in England, but here in America we fucking call the police when we see someone committing first degree murder!”

Gavin flinched, not at all surprised by Geoff’s anger. He wasn’t bloody stupid, he knew what he should have done. But given the circumstances of his own personal safety, Gavin had had no choice but to consider his options first.

“I know that, Geoff, I’m not an idiot, am I? He’s... got my wallet. I don’t want to call the police, because I think he might actually hunt me down and drink my blood, too. I like my gushy bits on the inside!”

Geoff opened his mouth to retort, bit his lip, and changed his mind. Instead, he spoke a tad more soft and tried something else. “So, you crash at my place tonight and call the police in the morning. At least then they’ll be looking for this guy, and you might get an armed guard or something to look after you until he’s caught. Dude, they might even put you in the witness protection program!”

Gavin didn’t find Geoff’s joke very funny, and he opted to look out his window instead of humour that thought at all. “It was awful and I think I might have offended him. I pissed off a vampire serial killer, oh god.”

“How the fuck did you manage to do that, Gav?”

“I told him being a murderer wasn’t all that impressive.”

“Seriously? Only you would manage to find a psycho killer and get on his shitlist for something different than being a potential target. Dude, all I did tonight was watch Jeopardy and pass out at nine.”

“Geoff, this isn’t a joke!”

~

No matter how many times Ryan did it, disposing of a body didn’t get any easier. He’d mastered the art of stealth (or so he thought he had, until the British punk had shown up and put a dent in his ego), but the cleanup didn’t get any less messy, and the exertion of lugging a body out to Swift Creek didn’t get any less frustrating.

With one strong heave, the body toppled over the edge of the crevasse, tumbling down the cliffside until it landed in the fast moving river below. It might wash up downstream, another town over, but the cops would never find where it had come from before Ryan was the hell out of dodge.

He stepped back, running a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. There was still blood on his shirt and staining his teeth, and he couldn’t wait to get home and take a nice, hot shower. It had been several long hours since he’d made the kill, and the sun was due to rise in less than sixty minutes. The cleanup had taken too long this time, and Ryan cursed himself for getting sloppy. The British kid had really thrown him for a loop.

As he’d fled the scene with body in tow, his mind had been on the damn voyeur and his stupid mouth that had somehow managed to poke fun at Ryan’s exploits, despite the obvious fear in his eyes. He had half a mind to be impressed, if it weren’t for the very real possibility that he’d have to skip town again if the kid squealed. Ryan had the fortune of producing very little DNA that could be linked back to him, even if he were in the system - but that luck went to waste the second witnesses were involved.

Being a vampire was a fucking waste.

Ryan wished that the package had come with what all the teen movies said; eternal beauty, immortality, superhuman abilities, and the inexplicable collection of equally stunning mates to spend the rest of his life with. Instead, he got a lack of appetite for the food he had once loved, a crippling bloodlust that came about every few weeks, and cleanup duty that was as messy as it was inconvenient.

Sure, his wounds were always superficial, and the adrenaline from a kill was a hard high to beat. And maybe he hadn’t aged a day in twenty four years. But the cons far outweighed the pros as far as Ryan was concerned.

He’d taken a little detour on his way home, stopping a few blocks down from the scene of his kill to listen for sirens. Enhanced hearing had also been part of the vampire-package, but all that meant was he got to hear his neighbours having sex three floors up, and the man mowing his lawn across the street scared the everloving crap out of him every two weeks like clockwork.

To his surprise, the streets were deafeningly quiet; which meant the kid hadn’t called the cops. Either he was afraid of what might happen if he did, or this Gavin fellow didn’t care enough to bother. Either way, it was less of a headache for Ryan in the meantime, and with a significantly lighter heart, he made the drive home.

By the time the sun had risen, Ryan had disposed of his bloody clothing, taken a hot shower, and settled onto his mattress with Gavin Free’s wallet in hand. He perused through the cards inside, chewing his lip as he considered another course of action. Realistically, the smartest thing to do would be to ignore the problem altogether, hoping that his witness would forget the whole thing. Worse came to worst, he had his escape plan. He wouldn’t have to deal with the kid at all, if he was willing to think on his feet.

Or he could instill the fear of God himself into the Brit and ensure his silence for good.

Yeah -- that sounded like a lot more fun.

~

Gavin hadn’t slept a wink, huddled on the sofa in Geoff’s living room with his eyes darting from front door to window, to front door again. By the time they’d gotten back to his place, the sunrise had only been a few hours off, and now it was shining directly into his eyes. As the minutes ticked on, Gavin had tried to convince himself that he was safe; that the chances of being found were slim. Even if the killer had already ransacked his apartment, there were no clues that would point him to Geoff’s home.

Still, his body was too tense and his mind too charged up to even attempt sleep. At one point, he’d attempted to turn the Xbox on and play some games to keep his hands busy; but they turned out to be too jittery, and after his twelfth consecutive defeat in Halo, Gavin had tossed the controller aside with a huff.

By the time Geoff was awake and functioning, Gavin had almost managed to fall asleep. He was jarred to full consciousness by his friend’s loud groaning as he thundered down the stairs, grumbling to himself about needing a cup of coffee.

Gavin didn’t have the energy to be angry, silently thankful that he hadn’t fallen asleep and let his guard down. He watched quietly as Geoff buggered about with the coffee machine, contemplating how best to bring up the current situation, when -

“You look like shit, dude.”

Gavin gave a wheezy laugh, rising clumsily to his feet to help himself to a mug out of Geoff’s cupboard. “Yeah? I guess witnessing a bloody murder isn’t part of my normal beauty regime. S’that dark roast?”

Geoff frowned, running a hand over his own tired features. “Are you gonna call the cops, then? You’ve had some time to think about it. I hope you’ve gotten it through your idiot British brain that you can’t fuckin’ leave this alone. Someone died, and it’s your responsibility to fix it and shit.”

Gavin worried his lip between his teeth, opting out of meeting Geoff’s stern gaze by snatching up the coffee pot to pour himself a cup of joe. “I… Guess I’ll have to. I dunno, Geoff, it just doesn’t feel safe. He’ll know it was me. Aren’t serial killers good at hunting people down?”

“Yeah, idiot, and he’ll continue to do that exact fuckin’ thing if you don’t call the god damn cops, Gavin. You’re waiting too long, he could be halfway to fucking China before the cops get their asses in gear. You’ve gotta do it. You don’t have a choice.”

Gavin sighed, sipping his coffee-- promptly cursing when it burnt his tongue. “Fine. Can we swing by my flat, first? Just to grab a few things. I want to get in there before he does.”

Geoff didn’t look happy about that, but he nodded begrudgingly. “Yeah, sure. Lemme finish my coffee, and take a dump, and then we can go. Should I bring my gun?”

Gavin’s eyes bulged out of his head, and Geoff snickered. “You’re the one jumping out of your own skin, so I figured I’d offer. I won’t bring a gun, but we’ve gotta be careful. See you in twenty.”

~

Gavin thought it’d be better if Geoff stayed in the car, just in case the freak was watching. Better not to blow his only safe-house, after all. He had Geoff on the phone though, as a precaution, but the walk up into his flat was the most nerve-wracking three minutes of his life. He’d fumbled with the keys, ignoring Geoff’s laughter on the other line at the sound of metal clinking against the floor.

Gavin whirled around his flat in a hurry, knocking over bottles and throwing unnecessary clothing out of the way. He shoved the essentials into his bag, packed up his laptop, and his phone charger. He felt as though someone were breathing down his neck, the hairs standing on end. He pushed the feeling aside; all he needed now was some batteries from the kitchen for his camera, and he’d be all set.

He rummaged through drawers, cursing under his breath as he struggled to find those blasted double A’s. Geoff was ranting about some stupid pedestrians on the road, urging Gavin to hurry the fuck up. Gavin breathed a nervous laugh at his friend’s complaining, whirling around to leave with batteries in hand, and---

“It’s nice to see you again, Gavin Free.”

His phone clattered to the ground, the front door closing shut behind the killer.

[hysterialevi]

In the Smoke pt. 4 (Cobblebats)

From Thomas’ POV

Exiting my office, both Hamilton and Carmine hastily made their way out of the manor while I stayed behind, contemplating everything they just told me. No one was 100 percent certain yet, but if the rumors circling around were true, then this “Penguin” figure that Hill encountered was actually Oswald Cobblepot in a mask. 

I dragged a hand through my hair, gazing out a nearby window in thought. I had to admit, I was more than a bit surprised when I heard the whispers. Oswald had always been known as a trouble maker anyways, but I never expected his “trouble-making” to reach this level. Illegal boxing, arms dealing, murder, drug abuse--to be honest, I didn’t even think that the boy was still alive. 

After his parents had been dealt with, and he was forced out of the country, I expected the same thing as anyone else. Without the support of his parents, it only seemed logical that Oswald would eventually die off somewhere, unable to sustain and raise himself at such a young age. What else would a child like him be able to do? Well, whatever he went through, he was obviously stronger than I anticipated. 

Moving away from the office, I began aimlessly pacing around the manor, and eventually found myself staring at the door to Bruce’s room with regret. The last thing I wanted to do was keep secrets from my own son, and I wished that we could have a normal relationship, but after what happened with Martha, I could never be too careful. 

For the past twenty years, I had already been strangled with the constant worry about Bruce’s mental health after witnessing a murder--of his own mother, no less--and now, I was concerned for his safety in general. I didn’t care what Hamilton or Carmine thought about my decisions. Bruce was my number one priority, and I would do whatever I could to keep him alive.

Walking up to Bruce’s room, I stopped in front of the closed door and paused for a moment, my hand hovering above its surface as I debated whether or not to talk to him. I sighed to myself. I was a horrible father, wasn’t I? Any normal parent wouldn’t have hesitated speaking to their own child, and yet, here I was, thinking about turning back.

Before I could make any sort of choice though, the door swung open by itself, revealing Bruce in the entryway. He jumped slightly at my sudden appearance.

“Oh!” He blurted out in surprise, “--um, hi. Dad.”

“Heh, sorry,” I replied. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no, it’s...it’s fine.”

We both stood there awkwardly, surrounded by uncomfortable silence as Bruce tried to avoid eye contact with me, practically squirming in place while he waited for me to say something.

“Um...” I tried initiating any sort of conversation, “I...just wanted to check up on you. You...doing all right?”

Judging by his fidgety temperament, I could easily tell there was something on Bruce’s mind, though he said otherwise.

"...yeah, I’m good,” he answered. “Just a little...nervous, I guess, about the debate coming up.”

He clearly wasn’t, but I went along with it.

“Hill’s been the mayor of this city for quite a while, Bruce. He’s always had Gotham at his back. I’m confident he’ll win again.”

Bruce was quiet in response, but the look on his face said, “I hope he doesn’t.” Not that it was unexpected. He never told me flat out, but I knew he truly wanted to support Dent in the election. He had expressed his dislike for Hill more than a few times in the past, and on top of that, he and Dent were good friends. Bruce had no reason to support Hill. 

Well, except for the fact that, if he wanted to, Hill could’ve killed all of us with a snap of his fingers--but that was just another secret Bruce didn’t know.

Bringing my eyes downward, I noticed that Bruce was holding something in his hand. I gestured to it.

“What’s that?” The question was meant to be casual, but it seemed to trigger a defensive mode in him, and his grip on the mystery item only tightened.

“Nothing,” he quickly said. Maybe a little too quickly.

Before I could even open my mouth to ask anything else however, the sound of someone calling my name averted my attention.

“Master Thomas,” Alfred announced, humbly standing off to the side, “Mrs. Zellerbach is here to see you. She says it’s a rather urgent matter, and she wishes to discuss it with you immediately.”

“Ah, thank you, Alfred. I’ll be right down.” Bruce and I exchanged looks. “Well, I suppose I should head down and see what Regina wants. We can talk some other time.”

He was a lot less wound up now, probably due to relief, and smiled. “Sure. I’ll see you later, Dad.”

Heading downstairs and away from my son, Alfred followed me from behind as I went to greet my guest, promptly keeping up with my pace and diverting his direction once we passed the kitchen. I decided to throw a glance back at where I had been talking with Bruce, only to find that he had already disappeared from sight. Well, he was certainly in a hurry for something. I only wondered what.

From Bruce’s POV

7:02 - COBBLEPOT PARK

Cautiously stepping into the ruined park, I checked the time Oz had written on the card and then looked at my watch, thoroughly searching around for him. The park was completely empty, just like it had been for the past two decades, save for a homeless man sleeping on the pavement, and there wasn’t any clear sign that Oz had been here. 

I let out a breath of disappointment. I was hoping that he would wait for me, despite being seriously late, or even leave another note, but maybe the invitation wasn’t even real to begin with. Maybe it was just a prank like I suspected, and Oz never contacted me in the first place. 

I headed deeper into the park, examining different areas. There was graffiti staining the walls, dead leaves littered the cracked ground, and the rusted gate creaked weakly in the wind. If I didn’t know what this place was, I would’ve never been able to guess it was Cobblepot Park--a location that was once considered to be one of the most beautiful tourist attractions in Gotham. 

After a few more minutes of pointlessly poking around and hoping for Oz to step out, I decided to abandon this wild goose chase and turned around to leave, only to find a man creeping directly behind me. He glared at me aggressively, switchblade in hand. Shit.

“Watch, wallet, cash,” he ordered, raising the knife, “or this...goes through you.”

I put an arm up in defense, steadily backing away. “You’re making a mistake.”

He ignored the warning and only continued to prowl towards me, cornering me against a bust of Oswald’s father, his eyes never leaving mine. He didn’t look too hard to fight, but I was still careful. After all, regardless of how weak this mugger was, I wasn’t the best when it came to violence either.

Suddenly though, out of nowhere, a smile grew on his face, and that smile eventually grew into hysterical laughter, echoing throughout the empty park. I didn’t know how to react.

“Woo!” The man exclaimed in amusement, bending over and resting his hands on his knees. “The look on your face...!” He wiped a fake tear from his cheek. “Man, I wish I coulda caught that on camera.”

I was dumbfounded. “S-sorry--what?” I stuttered. “Do I know you?” The man frowned in a saddened manner, offended.

“You...you don’t recognize me, do you?” He crossed his arms. “Well, I guess that only makes sense. It has been twenty years.”

What?

My jaw fell open and I took a closer look at the man, my eyes popping open once I realized exactly who he was.

“...Oz? Is that...is that you!?”

He grinned with that famously mischievous expression of his, putting the knife away. “I wanted to surprise you.”

Without saying anything, I ecstatically threw my arms around Oz and pulled him into a tight bear hug, the two of us laughing out of happiness as he patted my back. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I honestly couldn’t believe it. The letter was real all along. Oz really did send it, and now he was actually here. Right now. With me. Alive.

We separated after what felt like an eternity, still unable to contain our excitement as we continued to giggle at each other, just like when we were kids.

“It’s so good to see you again, Oz,” I said. “Truth be told, I thought the whole thing was a prank. I’m glad it wasn’t.”

“Well, I’m glad you actually showed up. For a while there, I wasn’t sure you would.”

I scratched the back of my head. “Yeah, sorry about that. I got your letter kind of late.”

“No worries.” He sighed. “God, it’s been what--two decades?”

I playfully glared at him, crossing my arms. “And you know what? I haven’t been mugged once that entire time.”

He chuckled. “Oh, that wasn’t why I brought you here, mate. I actually got somethin’ else in mind--somethin’ you might be interested in.”

“Oh?” I quirked a brow in curiosity. 

“Yeah. I wish I could say I came back to Gotham for the sake of visiting, but...” Oz examined the bust of his father, “I’m on a job here, you see. A rather dangerous one. And I’d really appreciate it if you joined me. I’d hate to see you caught on the wrong side.”

I grew slightly suspicious at the abrupt change in tone. “And the job is...?”

Oz scoffed. “Look at this city, Bruce. Look at who’s at the top. Hamilton fucking Hill.” He nearly growled his name. “Wish I could punch that posh grin into the back of his throat for what he did to my family--and to yours.”

I felt my smile disappear. “You...you know what happened to my mom?”

“‘Course I do. It was a part of his big plan all along. He had to get rid of the snitch first, and then come after my parents later.”

I shook my head in confusion. “Wait, what do you mean ‘snitch?’ What was my mom doing?”

He paused. “You don’t know?”

“No. No one’s ever told me anything, and I haven’t been able to find any sort of evidence. I mean, I always  suspected Hill had something to do with my mom’s murder anyway, but I never learned how.”

“Shit. Well...this may be hard for you to hear.”

I looked Oz directly in the eye. “If you know what happened, please tell me, Oz. I need to know.”

He thought for a good moment, trying to think of the easiest way to deliver the dreadful news. Oz exhaled.

“...Bruce...Jesus, how do I say this--listen, your dad...he’s not who you think he is. Neither is Hill, or Falcone. They’re all criminals--gangsters--and they all control Gotham. Hill is the brain, Falcone the muscle, and your father legitimizes the whole thing with his name. It’s why they’ve always stuck together. How else do you think they stole my family’s land?” 

Oz sat down on a bench, taking a flask out of his coat. “Back when your mum was still alive, she really didn’t like what they were doing, and she planned to turn ‘em in to the police. Well, before she could...Hill found out. That’s why he had her assassinated.”

I nearly fainted on the spot, just trying to take all of this in. As much as I trusted Oz, everything he was telling me was literally unbelievable, and I didn’t want to believe it. My father? A criminal? And he had been defending Hill this whole time--the man who murdered my mother and his own goddamn wife, for chrissakes. What the...what the hell was Dad thinking? Had he lost his mind?

I looked away from Oz, unable to comprehend what I was hearing. He had to be making this up. This had to be another one of his jokes. He was just messing with me again...right?

“Bruce?”

I broke away from my thoughts. Oz was staring at me.

“You all right?” He checked.

I brought a hand up to my head. “It’s...it’s just...a lot to process. But I’m glad you told me. I needed to know the truth.”

Oz nodded in approval. “And that right there, mate, is exactly what I’m here for. To expose the truth.” He walked up to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Your father ain’t the only one of his type, Bruce. Gotham is filled to the brim with liars, murderers, and hypocrites--and they’re the ones running this city. If you have any decency left in you, you’ll know why it has to stop.”

His grip tensed up. “You and I were like family once, Bruce. It was us against the entire world...I miss that. And I want that again. I want my friend to be there when I fight against Gotham’s corruption. That’s actually why I asked you to meet me today.”

Oz held a hand out. “Now that you know the truth, will you join me?”

Glancing at Wayne Tower, which stood proudly in the distance, I felt a new type of anger growing inside me the longer I stared at it, and it made me hate my father. He had lied to me all these years about my own mother’s death, just to protect the very man responsible for causing it. And for what? Money? Power? Well, whatever his reasons were, my father--and all men like him--were going to pay for what they had done. 

Taking a leap of faith, I turned to Oz and shook his hand firmly. 

“I will.”

He smirked, a twinkle flashing in his eyes. “...I knew you’d see reason. Welcome to the Children of Arkham.”

[ser11]

Review of Dice Angel by Brian Rouff

Review of Dice Angel by Brian Rouff At first glance, this book didn’t look very exciting, as the front is a dull gray color with dark gray lettering and a soft image of an angel worked into the words. However, just as the saying goes, we shouldn’t have judged this book by its covering. To our surprise, after picking this book up, it was hard to set it down! The chapters are short but are packed full with riveting information that entices you to keep reading. This book is the story of Jimmy D, a middle-aged bar owner whose life seems to be a constant string of bad luck. His ex-wife loves making his life miserable, his accountant fled town with all of Jimmy’s money, and he’s about to lose the bar to the bank. Finally things start to turn around when Jimmy is introduced to the Dice Angel, who gives him the opportunity to turn his life around through success at craps. Will luck continue to be in Jimmy’s favor? Or will he lose everything and have start over from scratch? You’ll have to keep reading to find out.

About the Book

Audience: Middle-aged Men and Women Author: Brian Rouff Genre: Fiction, Gambling-related Length: 38 Chapters, 242 Pages Point of View: First Person Narrative Publisher: Hardway Press Publishing Date: January 2002 Setting: Las Vegas, Nevada in the 21st Century

Brian Rouff Bio

Brian Rouff was born in 1955 and although he started off as a freelance writer who specialized in advertisement, he has more recently turned to writing books. Dice Angel was the first book that Rouff wrote, but he also wrote Money Shot in 2004 and one chapter of Restless City in 2009. In addition to that, Rouff has also been a regular contributor to the Las Vegas CityLife, a weekly newspaper and his own personal website, Living-Las-Vegas.com. Today, Rouff is a managing partner of Imagine Communications, which is a full service advertising, marketing, and public relations firm based in Henderson, Nevada.

Chapter Summaries & Thoughts

Chapters 1-5 The first few chapters are where you learn a lot about the narrator of this novel, Jimmy D. He tells you about his past experiences with his ex-wife, his daughter, Jenny, and his deceased father. You’ll learn all about the bar that Jimmy inherited from his father and you’ll be introduced to all of Jimmy’s friends.Instantly, you’ll feel connected to this man who is down on his luck and although he can be stubborn and insensitive at times, you’ll have a desire to see him come up on top. Early on, tragedy strikes, as the bar has been broken into and thousands of dollars have been strategically stolen from the slot machines inside Jimmy’s bar. Of course, Jimmy is responsible for paying that money back and so begins the slippery slope of Jimmy’s money problems. Soon his cards start getting declined and his checks start bouncing. Although Jimmy is started to get concerned, he’s distracted because his daughter Jenny is in town. You get to meet Jenny and see their loving father-daughter relationship that further makes you fall in love with Jimmy D. Chapters 6-10 Chapter 6 is where you’ll be introduced to Owen, Jimmy’s current accountant and ex-brother in law. He tells Jimmy that he can rest assured because the complications have been resolved. The next day after his encounter with Owen, his wife Sarah calls to inform him that Owen is missing and that he never came home that night. The bank called Jimmy the very next day to inform him that his entire life savings had been emptied and he no longer has any money in his accounts. As Jimmy’s bad luck continues to grow, he comes to the dismal realization that Owen had been embezzling money from him. If Jimmy doesn’t act fast, he’s going to lose the bar! He tries to get a loan from the bank, only to find that there is a lien on his property because Owen had failed to pay the businesses taxes. Jimmy has no choice but to get a lawyer  but has no luck finding one that will take his case seriously, so Jimmy starts turning to alcohol for comfort and by the end of this book, you’ll probably think he’s an alcoholic. Chapters 11-15 By Chapter 11, it’s time for Jimmy to tell Sarah everything he knows about her husband and through this we see his love and compassion for other people. He’s so kind and sweet to her that you grow more attached to his character. After meeting with his assigned lawyer Poon, Jimmy discovers that he is going to have to pay over $56,000 in just over a year or he’ll lose his bar. Believing that’s practically impossible, he strikes a deal with Poon, allowing his band to play at the bar regularly, as long as he can have a two-year extension on his debt. Poon’s band is unfortunately too awful to keep on staff, as they scare the regular customers away. Jimmy has no choice but to fire Poon’s band and reap the consequences, which in this case are him owing the complete $56,000 in cash by the end of the month. To make everything worse, Jimmy’s good friend, Zelasko, who happens to b a private investigator, calls to inform Jimmy that Owen’s past is untraceable and there’s no record of him prior to the time he started dating Sarah. Chapters 16-19 Pete, the homeless man, that frequently visits Jimmy after hours for a free meal and to give him advice will give him a business card that will change Jimmy’s life forever. The card reads “Dice Angel, I Will Bring You Luck at Craps, Ask for Amaris, 702-555-1431. (Just for fun, we called the number on the card to see what would happen, but unfortunately the number is no longer in service.) Jimmy exclaims that he would never become that desperate but takes the card and stuffs it into his wallet for good measure. He then goes on to explain to Pete that he has a bad history with gambling addiction and hasn’t been to a casino in over five years. Even though Jimmy knew this day was inevitably going to come, he still was bitter when he received a letter from the IRS the following day. Jimmy reluctantly decided it was time to tell his employees exactly what was going on and to his surprise, they were very supportive of him and even offered to work on tips alone for the next couple weeks. In hopes to put a dent in his debt, Jimmy starts selling off his prized possessions such as his auto-graphed Al Kaline Jersey and the Rolex that his father gave him when he graduated high school. He decided to clean out his wallet in hopes to find something that will help him collect more money when he sees the Dice Angel Card. As he was about to throw it away, he could hear Pete’s words, “What do you have to lose?” Chapters 20-24 Jimmy sets up an appointment to meet with Amaris at a nearby diner and when it came to be about fifteen minutes after the time they were supposed to meet, he suspected that he would never come. Amaris did come and brought her intense, vibrant personality with her. Their meeting was pretty typical, as they asked each other questions about themselves and Amaris took the time to explain her powers. Although Jimmy is still skeptical, he agrees to meet Amaris at Wild Bills Gambling Hall the next day. After Amaris slips away, he takes her tea-cup and plans to give it to Zelasko so he can do a background check on her. Since Jimmy did some investigating, we decided to do some ourselves. We looked into the Wild Bill Gambling Hall to see if it was an actual place and everything seemed to be just as described, a small casino just a few miles away from the main strip. This adds a certain amount of authenticity to the book that we truly appreciate. As soon as Jimmy gets back into action, his old habits start falling back in place and the bad luck he had before still followed him to the present day. After studying Jimmy’s every move, Amaris gives Jimmy a few pieces of advice that may help him naturally become a better gambler such as betting at a full table with friendly people and to not get defeated when things don’t go his way. Amaris noticed that Jimmy a deep hatred for money and she believed it’s probably linked to experience he’s had from a past life. Chapters 25-29 Amaris demands that Jimmy visits Dr. Arnie Gilman who is considered a Doctor of Parapsychology. While there, the doctor hypnotizes Jimmy so that his previous life could be revealed. While hypnotized, Jimmy is taken back in time to where he was a Holy Man that would collect money from peasants for God but would use it for his own selfish desires. When Jimmy woke up, he realized that he needs to learn to put others first in order to overcome is hatred of money. This was certainly a turning point in the story for Jimmy. The next casino that Jimmy and Amaris plan to meet is the Golden Gate casino, which also checks out when it comes to authenticity. Jimmy starts playing with a decent bankroll of $500 which he had to borrow from the bar. Amaris stood close by to Jimmy, speaking enchantments and working her magic behind the scenes. Jimmy started off on a roll but then quickly lost $200 and was very frustrated until he bet on the 11, winning $4,500 in a matter of seconds. Although Jimmy seemed to have luck on his side that night, Amaris decided they should stop while they were ahead. They depart and as soon as he gets home, Zelasko calls to inform him that Owen’s real name was actually Vincent Toledo, an old mobster that went off the grid years ago. The police found Owen/ Vincent dead body just several days ago and needed him and Sarah to go to the morgue to confirm that it was Owen, who it ultimately turns out to be. Chapters 30-32 After reading through all of Amaris’ past crimes, he decides to confront her which turns into him feeling like a jerk as she was quick to point out that most of her past crimes occurred when she was only a child. Overlooking some hard feelings, they decide to meet one final time, on Thursday night, in order to win the extra $50,000 they needed. For the first time in a long time, Jim has hope.  He thanks Pete for recommending him to the dice angel and is anxious for Thursday night to come. They decide to meet at Luxor Casino, another casino whose description matches just the way it’s described: a giant pyramid shaped casino which an Egyptian theme. Before Jimmy starts playing, Amaris gives him two simple pieces of advice: trust the universe and count your blessings. Chapters 33-35 Jimmy immediately starts winning right off the bat, first reaching $700 and then climbing up to $11,000 in a matter of minutes. He seems to be on a lucky streak that will just never end and their plan seems to be progressing perfectly at which point Amaris gets spotted and escorted out of the casino. Jimmy had managed to win just over $40,000 at this point, which would leave him about $15,000 short. He decided to go against his best instincts and continue gambling without her, winning an extra $20,000 before choosing to quit while he was ahead. In total, after taking out the $15,000 he owed Amaris, Jimmy was left with $60,000 to pay back his debts and call the bar. As soon as he came home that night, he called Poon to exclaim that e would be meeting with him tomorrow to pay his debts in full. This is where we though the story would end, happily ever after, but Rouff had a different idea.

A Surprise Ending

Jimmy gets a call from Sarah, explaining that her daughter Rachel had relapsed and was in critical care at the Desert Sun Hospital. Jimmy rushes to the hospital, only to find Sarah crying desperately, afraid that the hospital with move Rachel from their facilities due to a lack of funds. Jimmy, the honorable man that he is, gives up his entire $60,000 unanimously to save Rachel’s life. When we reach chapter 37, a few months have passed and the bar has already gone up for auction. Sarah pays a visit to Jimmy, revealing that she knows what he did to save her daughter’s life and that she is eternally grateful. Sarah also gives Jimmy a beautiful surprise by announcing that she won the auction and purchased his bar back with money she received from the government due to her husband’s death. Sarah invites him to be his business partner and he happily accepts. The last scene of the book is Jimmy going back to the pawn shop to buy back the watch his father had bought him as a child, showing Jimmy’s great appreciation and love for his father that is evident throughout the entire book.

Our Favorite Quotes from the Book

Jimmy speaking, “At that moment, I had a image of Steve Wynn, the casino mastermind, in a Uncle Sam costume. I realized that casino owners and the U.S Government were in the same business of taking your money, your property, and even your hope. At least the casino gave you free drinks.” This quotes sums up Jimmy’s personality perfectly, as it shows his blunt honesty. We also appreciate it because it shows just one of his many references to famous casino tycoons and players that add a strong element of authenticity to the text. Jimmy speaking, “In a single moment of clarity, I knew what had to be done. Before I could change my mind, I removed the bills from my pocket and placed them on Mrs. Burke’s desk.” We love this quote because it show’s Jimmy’s willingness to help Sarah, no matter what the cost. He doesn’t hesitate to help her sick daughter, Rachel, even though it ultimately means that he’ll lose the bar. This selfless act is a changing point in the book and it truly reflects Jimmy’s growth.

What Others Are Saying

Amazon gives this book 4.8 out of 5 stars, with over 125 reviews to back that up! Casino City Times said, “I highly recommend Dice Angel, the new novel by Brian Rouff, published by Hardway Press. It’s got a great story and is liberally sprinkled with wonderfully eccentric, though highly believable people.” John’s Jottings said, “Dice Angel is one hell of a fun read that should appeal to everyone whether you go to Vegas to roll the bones a couple of times each year like I do, or you simply enjoy fast moving quick hitting stories.” Curled up with a Good Book Reviews said, “Dice Angel’s pacing is perfect. Immediately drawn into Jimmy’s world and attached to his characters, my attention did not waiver once. However, it’s the surprise twists at the end that make the book a special read.”

Our Rating and Why We Recommend It

4.5 out of 5 Stars The only out-right downfall I see to this book and the one reason why it receives a 4.5 instead of a 5, is its wide use of profanities. We aren’t talking about a simple curse word here and there but instead you’ll find various profanities on every page. This may not offend everyone, but there are certainly people out there that will be offended. Another offending aspect to this book is Jimmy’s attitude and description of women. He’s very rude and loves throwing out sexual references that might leave a woman very uncomfortable. Regardless of the above criticisms, it was truly a wonderful experience reading through this book and getting attached to Jimmy and all of the other characters you meet along the way. Books written in first person narrative are also more personable and help you understand and connect to the characters. Also the immense amount of dialog also helped us understand all the characters in the book, but for those of us who don’t enjoy all the dialog, we would probably think it’s a bit excessive. Rouff did an excellent job of using detailed descriptions of everything that it was so easy to picture the scene he was describing. The chapter he wrote we short, never more than a few pages long, making it easy to read a chapter of the book when you only had a few minutes to spare. Click to Post