A Poker Boy Christmas by Dean Wesley Smith

Author:Dean Wesley Smith
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: WMG Publishing

PATTY held onto my arm, keeping me as calm as her superpower could manage. But I was feeling anything but calm.

“So what’s out there in that cold?” I asked.

“A banshee,” Lady Luck said.

Ben nodded, confirming what Lady Luck said but not adding to it.

I almost said that I thought those were myths, but then realized who I was and who was standing around me. I just hadn’t been in this superhero business long enough to know what was a myth and what actually had some reality attached to it.

“So tell me exactly what you are worried about,” I said.

“The banshee is a fairy that is known to mourn the coming loss of a life,” Ben said.

“By screaming?” I asked. “More like it would scare a person to death.”

“By screaming,” Stan said, nodding. “And the person who hears them is supposed to be the one who will die very shortly. It’s both a warning and a sad cry that the person is dying.”

Well, I had to admit, I didn’t much like the sound of that.

I took a deep breath and could feel Patty’s calming influence flow through me. Honestly, over the last few years, I had faced death and the end of the world a few times. And a lot of really tough players in no-limit poker games. So if some being was giving me a warning, I needed to thank her and just flat ask her what was going to happen.

And when.

Never hurt to know when a fella was going to die, I figured.

Seemed so simple. I’m sure there were a dozen reasons it was a stupid idea, but my friends around me just seemed determined to stand next to me when I died and do nothing, so I needed to do something.

And my terrified mind couldn’t come up with one other idea. I knew death could follow me anywhere, since I had met two gods of death so far, and sort of liked them both, honestly. So running was out of the question.

I moved over to the closet and pulled out my heaviest Oregon coat. Since I was originally from Oregon and my home casino was in the mountains of Oregon, I at least had a few heavy coats, one of which I had brought to Vegas and stashed in Patty’s apartment because at times I had been damned cold here as well.

“What are you doing?” Patty asked, again taking my arm as I came back to her zipping up my parka.

“Going out to talk with the banshee,” I said, giving her a quick kiss and heading for the door into the dark living room.

“Not a great idea,” Lady Luck said.

I stopped and looked at her. “Has a banshee killed anyone?”

“No, she just warns people,” Lady Luck said, her voice sounding sad and tired.

“Then it seems I’ll be fine. When was the last time anyone just talked with the banshee?”

Ben shook his head. “There are no records of anyone doing such a thing.”

“Five hundred years,” Lady Luck said softly.

Ben glanced at her and said nothing.

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