“Hold it,” I said. “I have a job for you, first. I want all the souls we won deposited somewhere safe, and secure.”
“No problem,” said Frankie. “I’ll deposit them in the hotel safe. What are you both looking at me like that for? They’ll be perfectly secure there. The Shadow Bank guarantees Casino Infernale’s security. If they didn’t, no one who mattered would gamble here. Why do you think they made such a fuss when you broke into Parris’ office? People have to believe their winnings are safe here. You’d better give me your obols to deposit, too. They’re the soul equivalent of cold cash.”
Molly and I dug the small coins out of our pockets and handed them over to Frankie; but at the last moment I held back the first obol I’d won. I hefted the small coin in my hand. So light, it was hardly there.
“Think I’ll hang on to this,” I said, putting it back in my pocket. “As a reminder of how cheaply they value souls around here.”
“He’s getting sentimental,” Molly said to Frankie. “That’s always dangerous. Leave now. Quickly. Run, while you still have the chance!”
Frankie left, grinning. I took Molly by the hand and led her to the shower. The blood came off easily enough, but the memories still stuck.
• • •
Afterwards, we dressed in new clothes. A smart navy blue blazer and slacks for me, and a matching blue evening gown for Molly. She paraded up and down the room in it for me to admire, and smiled triumphantly at me.
“Now aren’t you glad I packed so many clothes?”
“I trust you explicitly in such things,” I said, carefully packing the Armourer’s various secret weapons and devices about my person. “Except for when I don’t.”
“I knew you wouldn’t stick with that shoulder holster,” said Molly, as I slipped the Colt Repeater into my pocket dimension.
“Slowed me down too much. Stick with what works, that’s what I say.” I stood before the full-length looking glass to check out my appearance. Molly came and stood beside me, looking almost dazzlingly glamorous.
“We do make a good team,” she said. “I’d back us against anyone, in this world or out of it.”
I had to smile. “That is why we’re here. . . .”
Frankie knocked loudly on the door, from outside in the corridor, but had the lock open and was inside with us before the echoes had died away.
“Good to see you both upright, and clothed,” he said. “I have news!”
“What is so urgent?” said Molly. In a tone that implied that it had bloody well better be.
“We’ve been gone longer than you think,” said Frankie. “I was just down in the lobby, when it occurred to me to check my watch against the lobby’s clock. We’ve been away for half a day!”
I looked automatically at my watch. It had never occurred to me to check. We’d been away only an hour or so, maybe less. But the hands on my watch face showed ten past ten. Molly showed me her watch: 22:09. When I looked at the hotel clock on the bedside table, it said 1:14. And it was only then I thought to look out the window. It had been a dark evening when we left, now it was a bright sunny day. Midday, apparently.
“What was the point of that?” said Molly.
“To make another point, about how the Casino can control Time and Space through their dimensional doors?” said Frankie. “Or, because they didn’t want us hanging around the hotel with all its hangers-on, con men, and thieves, before the Big Game starts?”
“I hate time travel,” I said. “It plays merry hell with your tenses.”
“Casino Infernale is very nearly over,” said Frankie. “When I was down in the lobby, it was almost empty. Most of the Players have gone, and all of the hangers-on. The few remaining Major Players are apparently sitting quietly in their rooms, behaving themselves, waiting to see if they’ve done well enough to be invited to attend the Big Game.”
And even as he was saying that, there was a polite but firm knock on the door. Molly and I moved quickly to stand together, facing the door, while Frankie moved quickly to hide behind us. Before it even occurred to me to say Come in! the lock opened from the other side and the manager Jonathon Scott walked in. He smiled easily at me, polite and respectful, consideration itself.
“Allow me to present my compliments,” he said, in his best professionally charming voice. “I am here to invite you to take your place in the Big Game, Mr. Bond. On the penthouse floor at precisely eight o’clock this evening.”
Frankie punched the air. Molly beamed widely, and I nodded to Scott. He waited a moment, to see if there was to be any more exuberance, and then stepped forward and presented me with an engraved invitation. Nothing fancy, or fussy. Just a simple card with my name on it. Nice lettering. Shaman Bond had never looked better.
“Please don’t lose the card,” said Scott. “It has all kinds of security protocols built in. You won’t be admitted without it.”
“What if someone steals it?” said Molly, practical as ever.
“Heaven forefend that such a thing should happen in this hotel,” said Scott. “But if you were to lose it . . . that would only prove that Mr. Bond is not worthy to attend the Big Game, after all. And we would give his place to whoever might turn up with the card. The Casino really is very blunt and practical about things like that.”
“I’m sure you are,” I said, slipping the invitation carefully into my pocket dimension.
Scott looked at me knowingly. “A very useful hiding place, Mr. Bond. You made very good use of it at Last Man Standing.”
“You were watching?” said Molly.
“I watch everything,” said Scott. “That’s my job.”
“Are there rules against using such things?” I said.
“Not as such,” said Scott. “And the extremely powerful null zone operating at the Big Game will of course render it of no use to you. For the duration.”
“Can’t keep anything secret here!” Molly said brightly.
“No,” said Scott. “You can’t.” He looked at me directly. “Eight p.m. sharp, Mr. Bond. Don’t be late, or you won’t be admitted. Card or no card. And Mr. Bond, the invitation to play is extended strictly to you, and you alone. You may of course bring Miss Molly Metcalf with you, as your plus one, should you so choose, but she will not be allowed to play, or wager, or interfere in any way.” He glanced briefly at Frankie. “Leave your pet behind.”
“Why is the invitation just for Shaman?” Molly said hotly. “I did my bit!”
“There can be only one,” Scott said smoothly. “And Shaman won most of the souls through his efforts.”
He then produced a heavy folder out of nowhere. Made me wonder whether he might have a pocket dimension of his own, and what else he might keep in it. The entire Jackson Fifty-five, for all I knew. Scott presented me with the folder, marked with the hotel crest in gold, and then looked at me expectantly. So I opened the folder. It contained several sheets of top-quality paper, also marked with the hotel crest, bearing row upon row of names. I leafed quickly through the pages, but it was all nothing but names. I looked at Scott.
“This is your receipt, Mr. Bond. For all the souls you won at the Games, and entrusted to our hotel safe. Every name is there, every soul that now belongs to you. The living and the dead. Again, sir, please don’t lose this. It is your only proof of ownership. All lost souls revert to the Casino. Well, I think that’s everything. Unless you have any questions?”
I would have liked to ask about the whereabouts of my own soul. Whose list it appeared on. But I couldn’t, because the Casino only had a claim on Eddie Drood’s soul, and I was Shaman Bond. The generic flunky at the Medium Games had seen the constraints on my soul, but he hadn’t actually asked my name. Just as well, really. Could have been awkward. I decided to change the subject.
“Am I bringing the largest number of souls won to the Big Game?” I asked bluntly.
Scott couldn’t hold back a small condescending smile. “Hardly, sir. But you did make a very good showing, for a first-time contender. I’m sure we’re all very interested to see how you’ll do at the Big Game, Mr. Bond.”
He smiled again, nodded politely to one and all, and left. The door closed itself behind him. Molly made a rude gesture at the door.
“I should have been invited! A lot of those souls should be mine!”
“He won more than you,” Frankie said impassively. “That’s how it works here.”
Molly sniffed loudly. I was still leafing through the pages in the hotel folder. So many names . . . I didn’t like the idea of owning other people’s souls. Too much like slavery.
“Stop looking,” said Frankie, kindly enough. “You never know, you might recognise a name. It’s better not to know.”
“You can always set them free later,” said Molly. “After we’ve broken the bank at Casino Infernale. In fact . . . if we break the bank really badly, and damage the Shadow Bank enough . . . then maybe their hold on their souls will be broken.”
“Yes,” I said. “I’d like that.” I looked at Frankie. “Would that apply to all those faces in the corridor?”
“I don’t know,” Frankie said carefully. “I don’t think the subject has ever come up before. I would have to say that we’re treading in unknown and very theoretical territory here. Even if you do somehow manage to break the bank at Casino Infernale, a thing that has never ever been done before, that doesn’t mean you’d in any way break the Shadow Bank’s control over its many holdings. Economical and spiritual. The Casino’s just a fund raiser for the Bank, when all is said and done. The best you can realistically hope for is to weaken their position enough to stop this war you’re so worried about over the Crow Lee Inheritance. Whatever that might turn out to be. But that’s it! That’s enough, isn’t it?”
“That was before I got a good look at how the Shadow Bank operates,” I said. “Before I saw the faces.”
“Oh, God,” said Molly. “He’s gone all ambitious again. That’s rarely good.” She looked at Frankie. “I’d start running now, if I were you.”
“That thought is never far from my mind,” said Frankie. He looked at me thoughtfully. “You know, that is a whole bunch of souls you’ve got there, in your hands. Representing more money than you could ever hope to spend in one lifetime. I know you’ve been talking about releasing them all back into the wild, but I’m sure the family wouldn’t miss a few. . . . I could get you a really good deal on the underground Soul Market. . . . No? All right, how about this? It occurs to me that the family might prefer you to hang on to certain bad guy souls. To give the Droods power and control over them.”
“The family doesn’t work like that,” I said.
“Since when?” said Frankie.
I closed the folder, and put it away in my pocket dimension. Just in case.
“The important thing is to regain control of your own soul, Eddie,” said Molly. “And those of your parents.”
I looked at her. “What about all those claims on your soul? I’m going to have to do something about that.”
“You’re so sweet,” said Molly. She came forward to stand right in front of me, so we could stare into each other’s eyes.
“Are you two going back into the shower again?” said Frankie. “Are you even listening to me? Oh, hell . . . can I have some money to go to the pictures?”
“Hold it,” I said, tearing my gaze away from Molly to glare steadily at Frankie. “I still want to know exactly what’s happened to my parents. I can’t believe the hotel or the Casino would just let them leave, and escape, not when they had a claim on their souls. They must have some way of tracking them . . . so, just maybe, the Casino has my parents imprisoned somewhere here in the hotel. Ask around, Frankie. The Players may have left, but most of the staff are probably still here. Talk to them; see if anybody knows anything.”
Frankie nodded quickly. “Got it, boss.”
He left. Molly looked at me.
“We have to talk about your parents, Eddie. Even if we do break the bank here, we have to accept we might not be able to free their souls, or yours, from the Shadow Bank.”
“Then I’ll just have to do whatever it takes to bring down the Shadow Bank,” I said. “Not just for my sake, but for everyone’s.”
“Whatever happened to better the devil you know, and all that?” said Molly.
“That was before I got a look at how they do things,” I said. “I will not suffer this to continue, Molly. I can’t. It’s not just about me any more, or my parents. Or even stopping an inconvenient war. You saw the faces, Molly. Like Frankie said, they might as well be in Hell. If I turn my gaze away, it’s like I’m saying They knew what they were doing, they deserve it, it’s none of my business. And I can’t do that.”
“Of course you can’t, sweetie,” said Molly. “The Shadow Bank is going down! I’m with you all the way. But, how are we going to do it? We don’t even know who or what might be running them. What can we do?”
“Haven’t a clue,” I said. “I’m working on it.”
“Terrific . . .” said Molly. “Talk about getting a girl’s hopes up . . . want to lie down on the bed for a while?”
Just as she was saying that, there was the sound of gunfire as the lock on our door was blown apart, the door was kicked in, and someone with a very familiar face stormed into our suite. The Little Lord looked very angry, even disturbed . . . and in pretty good shape, considering that the last time I’d seen her she was being carried unconscious from the Arena. She was back in a formal suit, complete with top hat and a monocle screwed firmly into one eye. She had a really large gun in one hand, and a piece of complicated-looking tech jammed under her other arm. She fixed me with a cold, dangerous look and pointed the gun right at me.
Molly moved quickly forward to stand between me and the Little Lord, and I let her. I thought about drawing the Colt Repeater from my pocket dimension, and then thought better of it. A drawn gun trumps a holstered gun, every time. I was better off letting Molly defend us both with her magics.
Until I recognised the tech under the Little Lord’s arm; what it was, what it had to be. And I stepped forward, to put myself between Molly and the Little Lord. Her gun followed my every movement. It looked very steady; and the Little Lord looked very determined. Molly glared at me, as though I might have forgotten I didn’t have my armour any more. I put out an arm to hold her where she was, and nodded to the Little Lord.
“Didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” I said calmly. “Nice gun. Is that tech thing . . . what I think it is?”
“What?” said Molly.
“It’s a portable null zone generator,” the Little Lord said grimly, glancing quickly at Molly. “So your magics won’t work against me, witch.”
“Where did you get such a thing?” I said quickly, to bring the Little Lord’s attention back to me. And before Molly could say anything that might make the situation any more tense. “And how did you get back here from the Games world?”
“Pretended I was unconscious, until the flunkies weren’t looking,” said the Little Lord. “Then I slipped away, clubbed down a Player from behind, stole his obol and his identity, and a flunky escorted me back through the dimensional door. Seems they really can’t tell us apart, after all. I stole this portable generator from one of the hotel staff, beat your location out of a Jackson, and stole his gun, and here I am.”
“That’s actually . . . pretty impressive,” said Molly. “Sounds like something I might do.”
“It’s amazing how motivated you can get when you’ve just lost your soul,” said the Little Lord. Her gun was still pointing straight at me. “And now, I want it back. Give me back my soul, right now! Because if you don’t I will shoot you, Shaman Bond, and take my chances that with your death, all your bets will be declared null and void
!”
“Sore loser,” said Molly.
“Shut up!” said the Little Lord, her voice rising dangerously. “You don’t understand! It’s not just money I lost this time; it’s my eternal soul! I thought I understood what I was risking, but I didn’t. I’ll do whatever I have to, to get my soul back!”
“All right,” I said. “You can have it.”
The Little Lord looked at me. “What?”
“It’s just one soul,” I said. “I’ve got loads—more than enough to get me into the Big Game.” I looked at Molly. “I told you I wasn’t comfortable owning souls.”
“You expect me to believe you?” said the Little Lord. “You’re really willing to just . . . give me my soul back?”
“Why not?” I said.
Moving slowly and carefully, I took the hotel ledger out of my pocket dimension, leafed through the pages to find the Little Lord’s name, and then took out a pen and carefully crossed her name through. Then I put the ledger away again, took out the obol I’d kept, and handed it to her.
“This is your soul,” I said. “Or at least what represents it. I revoke all claims to it.”
And as I handed the small coin over to the Little Lord, we both felt something pass between us. Like the handing over of a precious gift, or a heavy burden, or something of indescribable significance. We both breathed a little more easily. The Little Lord clutched her obol tightly in her fist, and looked at me with something like wonder.
“Thank you. . . . That was the most generous thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t know what I’d expected would happen when I finally got here, but that wasn’t it.”
“He’s a good man,” said Molly. “I don’t tell him nearly often enough, but he is.”
“I’m Shaman Bond,” I said. “If I was someone else, I might have responsibilities. I might feel it was my duty to hang on to the obol. But I’m not. I’m Shaman Bond, and a free man.”
The Little Lord looked at Molly. “Am I supposed to understand any of that?”