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bonus for the month--what part did William Shatner play on Howdy Doody?

Gaming Challenge--Dead Man's Law by Mariah Ambersan

From Dead Man's Law, a wip by Mariah Ambersan

            “My son?” Erebos’s smug words slid out of the dark and over Sam, mocking him. That oily voice plucked at Sam’s senses like a maestro playing a poisoned harp. The sound alone taunted everything inside him to fury until every sensation sang in hate. “Such a magnificent son, so full of great and terrible promise.” The voice cooed from behind his ear, cooling the nape of his neck. A claw ran across the breadth of his shoulders. Sam felt like a stud at auction. Any second people would start shouting out prices. That infuriated him, more so than the fact he’d been chained to the foot her statue, like some misbehaved dog waiting for its mistress to come home.

Sam snapped his elbow back at the voice, praying to connect. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to feel bone breaking under his blow. Instead the chain rattled merrily stopping him. “Of course you’re mine. Everything you are in this existence is because of me.” The voice drifted around him.

            Oh yeah, and didn't he know it, and never in a thousand years would Sam ever forgive him. Erebos was the one who killed Haven and Seth. The one behind all of this, the one responsible for the hell Sam was in. It made his blood seethe.

 Sam turned towards the voice and hissed venomously. “I’ll rip everything you have built down. Every heartbeat and every breath I have in me will be just to destroy you.”  The silence filled with righteous intent. Sam wouldn't simply kill him he would obliterate everything about all of them. No more innocent people would die.

The dark quieted until all Sam could hear was his own harsh breathing. The vampire had gone still. Like a shark in a night time ocean Sam had no idea where the killer in the dark would strike next, and it could be from literally anywhere.

“Do you mean the heart that beats, pulsing from my blood and the newborn breath that you gasped when you woke in the dark four days ago?  The ones that dwell there still, full from the night air and my power? Is that the beat and breath you’re talking about? The ones I gave you?”

Invisible fingers caught his chin and held Sam’s face in a vise. Sam held his ground, refusing to be cowed or back down. Although he couldn't see him in the dark he knew Erebos stood right in front of him and Sam wanted him to see all the hate he felt.

The touch turned gentle.

Sam blinked.

Cold fingers cupped his cheek. Sam fought not to jerk his head away from the disconcerting touch. The sudden switch unsettled him but he wasn't about to give the vampire the satisfaction of seeing him flinch.

“My blood and my breath gave you life, my words gave you a name. You are more mine than any mortal man who you knew before.”

Blue bloomed in the darkness before his eyes as the vampire let himself be seen. Darkness parted in swirls giving way to the diaphanous light all vampires had. Erebos stood nose to nose with Sam, his dark eyes were so stark against the glow they looked like bullet holes in an electric ghost.  

Sam couldn't look away if he’d tried.

“I am your father.”

Erebos slid his hand to the back of Sam’s neck and leaned down until their foreheads touched.

“Thanatos you are my son. Don’t you remember me?”

The words wormed their way into his soul and twisted to take root.

            My Son.

            I am your father.

            Remember me.

            Something blurred in Sam’s mind. Another dark eyed man with a bright smile faded at the edges of his conscience.

            Who was that? He seemed important somehow. The energy surging though him faltered and Sam’s body sagged, dizziness sent the world spinning on a cockeyed axis. The blue god in front of him held him tenderly while Sam reeled.

            Father? Did dad always glow?

            Sam stared into the dark eyes fighting to place what was wrong. Yeah he did, but it’s wrong somehow. His gaze dropped to the Blue God’s chest. The glow was always there and it was a different color.

            A niggle of memory shimmered like a fish in dark water. A glimpse of brilliant gold on black. That’s right it’s gold not blue. The memory solidified into a shield glowing in the setting sun.

            A badge?

            His dad’s badge on his uniform!

             The ghostly man of his memory erupted into full glorious color. His father stood leaning against the Challenger. He’d come home from work and he’d turned to smile at Sam just as the sun set. The light had caught his shield and his dad’s badge looked like his heart was on fire against the black police uniform. It was Sam’s best memory of him.

            Sam’s stare locked onto the one across from him.

Indescribable anger arced through Sam’s mind swallowing what remained of his rationality whole.

 He’s trying to hypnotize me into forgetting my father.

Rage unlike anything he’d ever known exploded through him. It pounded his heart and sent all the muscles in his body surging. Snarling, Sam lunged at Erebos. The sharp rasping ring of metal scraping against the marble behind him barely registered in his heated brain.

“You’re not my father you sick prick!”  Sam reached the end of his chain, the sudden loss of slack jerked his attack short.  The heavy iron cut into his wrists, and still he fought forward. He knew he couldn't break the iron holding him there, but that didn't stop him from trying.

The blue winked out and the void rushed in all around him again.

In the dark behind him the smug voice chuckled. “Such a pity we were so close to bonding too. I’d rather you came to me Thanatos, but I understand. Just like I understand change can be difficult and parents have to be firm with wayward children.”  The chain on his left wrist dipped slightly. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to do things the hard way then.”  It was all the warning he got. The chain shot backwards through the rings in the statues base.

Sam’s arm nearly popped from their socket from the force and he flew across the room like a kite in a tornado.

Sam cracked his head against the marble and crashed his teeth together. Blood gushed in his mouth bittersweetly. Must have bit my tongue. Owww. He ran his tongue across his teeth, a flap caught and tugged painfully. Yep nashed it good. Although it did kind of feel nice. A traitorous moan rumbled past his clenched teeth.

Sam’s eyes shot open.

No! His heart screamed at his fading mind.

What he needed to bring him back to himself wasn't there. The hurt that should have shocked him slipped away, edging into ecstasy instead. His ethereal thoughts circled the horrible truth in vanishing motes that became harder and harder to focus on through the giddiness swirling around his head.  The sun had set and Nyx’s hold over him had returned. He was out of time. There was no way he could fight Erebos and Nyx at the same time. She’d be here any minute.

The pain swam in euphoric waves that rolled his eyes up into his skull.

She’s getting closer.

Sam screwed his eyes shut, vainly trying to block out the feeling.  His last threads of sanity thrashed for anything to save itself from the sinking darkness.

“Tell you what. Let’s wager for it, Dad. Let’s play a game, if I win you unchain me and I go free for the night. If you win.” Sam spat blood on the floor and took a deep breath. “Well then you win. I’ll come willingly.”  Nausea twisted Sam’s gut to say those words.

Suddenly the vampire was there again, his evil firefly light filling the space before the statue in sickening shades of blue. The smirk on his face unmistakable. He had the vampires undivided attention.

“What kind of wager?”

Gaming Challenge--Daughter of the Dragon by Connie Crow

Daughter of the Dragon
by Connie Crow

            Leonid Chaikov rubbed a clammy hand across his mouth and tugged on his great, grey beard. His cards wouldn't change, no matter how long he stared. He crushed them together and glanced around the tiny mountain shack. The bare studs of the interior offered no encouragement. The raw planks and barren cabin looked as bleak as his poker hand. He thumbed them open. No luck. Still the same stinkin' cards "Two pair. Two lousy pair."

            "Come on, Chaikov. I ain't got all day. You gonna see my hand or not?" The voice from across the table grated in his ears. Turning to face the voice, he stared into merciless, beady eyes, glinting across the table. How had he ever allowed himself to get into a card game with Hargrave and Armitage? Sun Lee would have his hide if he lost their mine to the card shark and his 'go-fer'.

            "Shut up, Hargrave. It's my mine I'm putting on the table."

            The hint of a smile snaked across Hargrave's angular face. He leaned back, tipping his chair onto its back legs. "That it is, Chaikov, that it is. You take all the time you want, 'cause when we get done, it's all gonna be mine."

            Hargrave's face set into its ever-present sneer. He jerked upright. The chair hit the floor with a resounding thud. Chaikov jumped at the sound, then settled into his own rickety seat. An unintelligible grunt escaped his lips. The cards, made thick by too many sweaty fingers from too many poker games, refused to budge. He held them toward the flickering lamplight and shook his head. No matter what he did, all he could see was two pair, with a Jack kicker. A shudder shook the big man's frame-- a shudder out of place on this stifling August night. Oh well, he couldn't cover his marker in the pot now. It was all or nothing at this point.

            He smoothed the precious paper lying on the table. Picking up the pencil stub beside him, he scrawled his name on the front, endorsing the deed. Caressing it gently between his fingers, he finally stretched out his hand and deposited the document atop the pile of coins in the table's center. He brushed the other documents lying by the coins.  " I'll call. I'm putting the deed to the mine down. And I'll see your hand."

            Chaikov glared across the table, keeping his hand firmly on the two papers.

            Hargrave's smile widened. "I'll be glad to show it to you. Read 'em and weep, Chaikov."

Hargrave stood up, spreading his cards on the worn tabletop. "Three pretty Queens lined up beside a pair of Jacks. A full house, Chaikov."

            He leaned forward, pressing his palms of the table. Eye-to-eye, his hissed, "Show me better, if you got it."

            Chaikov's shoulders sagged. He pulled his hand back and turned his cards face up. "You got me beat. My two pair won't take that." His heart sank. He'd lost it--lost the Golden Dragon Mine. Sun Lee would never forgive him--and she was such a good daughter. Since her mother's death, she'd loaded dirt and worked with him like a trouper. What could he say to her? He buried his face in his hands.

            A strangled sound, coming from the third player in this unholy card game caught his attention. He glanced at Armitage, who'd been in the game at the beginning. Seeing Armitage's face, he looked back at the cards. "What's wrong with you, Rat Face? You look like you just seen a ghost?"

            "Oh, nothing, nothing at all!"

            Hargrave threw Armitage a withering glance. "Nothing's wrong, Chaikov. You just lost a mine, that's all. I'll be takin' my winnings."

            Chaikov's huge arm stopped Hargrave's sweep of the table "Just a minute." His hand shot out, scooping up Armitage's cards. "I want to see these."

            Hargrave tried in vain to stop him. "You can't do that."

            Chaikov held the third hand in his huge fist and shook it slowly in Hargrave's face. "I just did." He spread the cards on the table between the other two hands. A pair of jacks peaked out of Armitage's hand. An icy chill settled over the three men. Chaikov stood, towering over the others. He glared at the winner. "It's your deck, Hargrave. Since when does a poker deck have five Jacks?"

            "Ah, I. . ." Hargrave searched for words, his eye murderous thunderclouds, threatening to drown Armitage for his mistake.

            "Never mind." Chaikov reached for the pieces of paper. "I'll be takin' the deeds."

            Hargrave swung toward him "No!"

            Chaikov's hand dropped to his gun. "Yes, I will."  He was too slow. As his hand touched holster leather, he felt a searing pain in his chest, and instant before he heard the crack of a derringer. It was the last sound he ever heard. He clutched at his chest, trying to stop the pain exploding inside, trying to cover the hole exposing his lung. He couldn't breathe. Darkness eroded his vision, leaving him only a glimpse of the deeds on the table. With a dying gasp, he lunged toward the shadow.