Oscar is not allowed to come with us— a decision I'm glad of. Even if Apollon and Jonas are being overly cautious, I would rather Oscar be safe at home. Of course, he's not happy about this at all, and even gives me a dark look and a pout as we're heading out. I counter this by wrapping my arm around his shoulders and squeezing. He's smiling when I glance back at him from halfway down the path.
The Rustler is full tonight, and the card table is already crowded. When Lloyd sees me coming, he bows out and offers me his spot. Since none of the people at the table are on my no-play list, I take a seat and toss my silver in. I glance around at the faces. I've played with all of them before, save one. The girl I remember from my days as a beggar. She still looks tough, and her two pets are sitting at the bar not far away from where mine take up their usual spot. I watch as the two pairs greet each other with a nod. No hostility. No friendliness either. I study the girl again, wondering if she's a decent player. She sees me looking and stares back, obviously trying to psych me out.
"I don't think we've met," I say, tilting my head. "I'm Eden."
"So I heard," she says bluntly. She doesn't offer her name.
Jacob clears his throat. "Eden, Sarah," he says, nodding from me to her.
Sarah decides for sure that she doesn't like me when I win the first hand. Her eyes glint as she watches me take my winnings. Not that anyone else looks excited about it either. I signal Arthur to bring us a round and make sure I lose the next hand, even though my cards are decent. Jonas and Apollon look tightly wound. Jonas is carrying tension in his shoulders. He may have agreed to this, but he doesn't like it. Convincing him to let me play again soon will be difficult, especially if things get catty tonight. So I have to win. I have to make enough to get us through for a while.
I win with three of a kind, and then a pair of eights when I don't mean to. I can't help that everyone else who stayed in the game was bluffing.
Sarah's eyes narrow on me.
The next hand, I have a straight flush, and there's plenty of money in the pot. Sarah raises the bet. It's my turn. I consider folding, but I can't just pass this one up. I can't walk away from all that money. "Call," I say, tossing my coins in.
It's the wrong decision. The blood drains from their faces as they scan my cards on the table. I reach for my money.
Sarah, twitching, says, "That sure is some interesting luck you have there, Eden."
But before the sentence is out, Sumter is on his feet with a knife in his hand.
Everything explodes in one simultaneous blur of motion.
I kick my chair back, leaping to my feet. Sarah jumps up, too, and goes for her belt knife. A thin silver blade whizzes by me and sinks its point between the bones on the back of her hand. Behind me, by the bar, is a crash. I grab for my belt knife, free it from its sheath, and bring my arm up to block Sumter's blow, but I'm thinking I'm too slow. Instead, he crashes backward, breaking a chair as he falls to the floor. Jonas is on top of him with a knife raised in the air, teeth bared. He brings it down hard, slamming it into the wooden floor, slicing into Sumter's cheek and notching his ear in the process. Thick red blood splashes from the wound. The bar falls silent. Everyone freezes. I glance back. Apollon stands over Sarah's friends, who are both on the floor on their backs, with their hands up in submission.
Apollon gives me a look. I grab my money, pocket most of it, and back away toward him. Twenty percent I toss to a gaping Arthur Adner.
Jonas eases off of Sumter, wiggling his knife to free it from the floor. "Next time I kill you," he growls. He takes two broad steps to Sarah and yanks the small blade from her hand with a nasty flick. She yelps, then whimpers. He looks her in the eye as he pours someone's drink over both the blades to clean them. "Both of you." He turns his back on them and stalks out the door. Apollon and I follow.
We make it outside and ten paces down the street before people start bursting out of the place, bolting in different directions. No one wants to be there when the Sentries show up. Jonas, Apollon, and I are not the exception. We head home at a jog.