Claimed by the Prince of Darkness-Chapter 100: Table of Fortunes

When night fell, the hour stole colour from the sky over the town of Brackenwell. The streets had turned mostly deserted with lanterns burning along the narrow roads.

Harold Belmont pulled his coat tighter around himself as he walked. His footsteps moved quickly as if he had somewhere important to be. He finally arrived at an establishment where one could hear the clatter of coins and chatter.

Straightening his shoulders, Mr. Belmont pushed the door and stepped inside.

"Rough day, Belmont?" one of the regulars called out, eyeing the bruise darkening Harold’s cheek. "Looks like fortune finally hit back."

"Quite literally," another remarked, which had a few men snort.

Mr. Belmont’s mouth tightened and he snapped, "Mind your business. As if you are any better than me," he muttered under his breath.

"Shall I pour you a glass?" asked the owner of the place.

"I don’t need the cheap thing. Bring me something decent," Mr. Belmont said with a wrinkled sneer.

"Of course, only the best. Though you know it needs to be paid up front," the owner informed with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Mr. Belmont shot him a look of pure disdain. Once upon a time, he would have never been spoken to in such a manner. In the past, men used to rise when he entered a room.

He had been a respectable man once who was nearly seated at the courthouse, almost counted among men of importance. Men bowed at him but then the damn war had ruined everything. He was swept aside and was left in a corner of the world that no longer cared for his name.

With a begrudging expression, Mr. Belmont produced a few shillings from his pocket and dropped them into the man’s palm.

"Thank you," the owner bowed and said, "I’ll have your drink brought over."

Mr. Belmont’s eyes drifted across the room as he weighed each man in there, searching for the weakest hands.

Then he noticed a particular table at the back of the room. Unlike the others, where dull copper coins lay in meagre piles, this one gleamed with silver and some pieces of gold.

Now that was a table worthy of him and his hope rose quickly. That was the money that could change his week or month!

Seeing how the three men seated there finished a round of the game, he made his way to the table while his cane clicked lightly against the floor.

"I was so close," one of them complained, tossing his cards onto the table. He watched the other member at the table push the coins before setting them aside. "Another hand and I would have had you."

"Being close to winning doesn’t matter. You still lost, Stuart," the dirty blond man replied with a smirk.

"You were just lucky, Jay," Stuart rolled his eyes.

Mr. Belmont paused beside them, letting his presence announce itself. But when no one paid attention to him, he spoke, "Gentlemen, mind if I join you?"

He rested a hand on the back of an empty chair, already assuming the answer would be yes.

"Do you have the money?" Jay asked, raising his brows as he sized up Mr. Belmont.

"I do," Mr. Belmont replied with confidence.

"Then take a seat. The more the merrier, don’t you agree, gentlemen?" Jay gestured to the empty chair.

Mr. Belmont accepted at once, sitting comfortably in it as if he hadn’t been hit by the debt collectors this morning.

The cards were shuffled before they were given to each of the four players. Mr. Belmont was more than pleased to notice he had received good cards.

Jay, the blond man to his left leaned back in his chair with confidence, rearranging the cards like someone who was accustomed to winning.

The man sitting directly in front of Mr. Belmont was quick to discard his cards. He scratched his chin and sighed as though already bored.

Then there was the person on his right, turning his cards with maddening slowness. It made Mr. Belmont increasingly impatient. The only good thing was that this person dropped cards that he needed and it made him chuckle inwardly.

These three men appeared to have more money than sense. Perfect, Mr. Belmont thought. He would be more than happy to take it from them.

When Mr. Belmont drew his final card, he slid it neatly into his hand and revealed his set with a triumphant smile. He declared,

"Looks as though I have won this round." He then reached for the coins as if they were already his rightful property.

"How unfair," Stuart sighed. "I seem to have lost this round as well."

"It appears fortune has taken a liking to you tonight. Beating me is no small feat," Jay remarked to Harold. "You must have experience."

Mr. Belmont was going to agree to Jay when the person seated on his right spoke,

"One can acquire a great deal of experience without ever winning," the gentleman looked at his own cards before setting them down.

Mr. Belmont scowled at the insult and replied, "Pardon me? If you didn’t know, experience is not the same as desperation."

"Of course not," the gentleman agreed with him. "Though the two often dine at the same table."

Mr. Belmont softly scoffed. He tapped his winning cards and stated, "Keep your wit. I will keep the winnings. Deal again."

Soon the next round of cards was dealt, and when Mr. Belmont won again, he proudly gathered the gleaming pile of coins with obvious satisfaction. Glancing at the gentleman on his right, he said with a pleased smile,

"I do hope you are taking notes. This is what competence looks like when it is properly applied."

But the person sitting on the right did not answer. He only set his cards down with a stare at Harold.

Confidence swelled in Mr. Belmont’s chest as luck continued to favour him. Fortune, at last, had remembered his name.

But by the third round, his good fortune wavered. Cards that had earlier fallen neatly into his favour now betrayed him, and before long, half of his winnings had slipped back across the table.

"Ah! You had my card!" Mr. Belmont grumbled, tossing his cards down in frustration. It was alright, he convinced himself. The night was still young and he had already won twice. He could win again.

"I did mention I am good at this," Jay chuckled, turning a gold coin idly between his fingers. "I cannot allow you to take everything. Where would be the joy in that?"

Mr. Belmont gave a tight smile. When he looked to the right, he caught the gentleman merely gathering the cards and straightening them with quiet efficiency, as if the loss or gain of coins meant very little to him. He noticed the person looked well groomed despite the casual disorder of his dark hair.

Jay continued to speak, "Still, I find myself growing bored as I have been at it for hours. Perhaps it is time I retired for the night."

"So soon?" Mr. Belmont asked at once, unable to hide his dismay. One of his golden geese leaving already? "Surely another round will not hurt."

"It would only end the same way," Jay replied with a faint yawn.

"Then perhaps we should make it more interesting," the person on Mr. Belmont’s right suggested. He leaned back in his chair as if he had been waiting for this moment. "Raise the stakes."

The other two men seemed to consider it before nodding. Reaching into his coat, the person produced a heavy pouch and let it drop onto the table with a heavy thud.

"Two hundred gold coins."

Mr. Belmont’s mouth fell open and his breath caught, his gaze fixed on the pouch.

His fingers twitched against the table. Two hundred gold coins could clear his debts in a single night. He could already imagine it. All it required was one fortunate hand. And fortune, he reminded himself, had already smiled on him twice tonight.

From what Mr. Belmont had observed, out of the three only one of them played well.

One by one, the other two men followed suit, placing their own pouches upon the table.

"But it looks like it will be just the three of us playing now," the gentleman on Mr. Belmont’s right remarked, glancing pointedly at him.

Mr. Belmont’s eyes narrowed at the thought of backing away now. This was not recklessness. It was a necessity.

These were only young men playing with their wealth, he thought with scorn. He had spent years at such tables. He understood the game far better than they did. His mind raced at what to do.

"How unfortunate," Jay gave Mr. Belmont a friendly pat on the shoulder. "It seems you will have to leave the table and join somewhere more appropriate."

The cards were gathered and shuffled anew. Before the cards could be dealt, Mr. Belmont stood up from his chair and declared,

"I have something as well."

"Place it on the table, then. No need to be shy," Stuart encouraged him.

"I will," Mr. Belmont replied as he picked up his cane. "Give me a few minutes," before leaving the place quickly.

Upon reaching home, Harold Belmont began rummaging through drawers. He wondered where he had kept the papers he was looking for.

He knew luck was on his side today, and he would change his and his family’s fate. And while he looked through, an anxious Mrs. Belmont arrived at the doorway and quickly made her way to her husband. She worriedly questioned him,

"Harold, where were you?! We have been waiting for you. There is something you must hear. Caroline wore the earrings Ruelle brought from Sexton—"

"Did she like them?" he asked absently, not bothering to look at his wife right now.

Mrs. Belmont’s eyebrows furrowed before she snapped, "Harold, listen to me! Those earrings—they create some sort of contract between humans and Sexton—"

"Ah—found it!" Mr. Belmont exclaimed, triumphantly pulling a bundle of papers from the drawer.

"Harold—"

"I will deal with it later," he said impatiently, giving her the earlier winnings. "Here. Keep these safe. I will return with more." And without another word, he left the house.

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Minutes later, Mr. Belmont returned to the table, breathless as he had hurried as fast as he could. He placed the papers down with a firm slap and announced with confidence,

"I am playing as well. These are the ownership deeds to my house." He pulled the chair and sat down, letting the cane lean against the side of his chair.

The people from the other tables soon came to gather around after noticing the high stake. The cards were then shuffled and dealt by the man sitting on Mr. Belmont’s right side, before the game began.

When Mr. Belmont picked up his cards, he inwardly smiled while keeping a poker face. This game was easily his, he thought to himself as he had good cards. His eyes then discreetly looked at the players at the table.

The one on the left, Jay, wore a slight frown of concentration this time. While the one on the front was shuffling his cards. And when Mr. Belmont’s gaze turned to his right, he caught the person staring at his arm. But then he realised it wasn’t his arm but his cane the person was looking at.

He heard the person suddenly question, "Do you know the sound a bone makes when it breaks?"

"Huh?"

Mr. Belmont crinkled his face at the odd question. Did this person think he fell without the cane’s support?

Soon Mr. Belmont’s turn arrived and he picked up another card from the stack, but seeing the mismatch, he threw it on the table. And as good as his cards were, with every round that completed, he had started to grow nervous.

A trickle of fear crept up his spine as he looked at the cards being thrown on the table. Maybe the next card would be his—

But before that, the gentleman on the right revealed his cards, placing them on the table.

"That... that cannot be," Mr. Belmont whispered in shock.

"Well, would you look at that," Jay laughed, not caring that he had lost two hundred gold coins.

"T–That’s not possible...!" Mr. Belmont’s hand scattered the cards that had been revealed so that he could find a fault in it.

This person had spent the evening discarding cards like a fool, handing him victory after victory. So how did he win now?! Mr. Belmont questioned himself. Was it pure luck??

He then watched the man reach directly into the middle of the stack, pulling out a single card before revealing the ace of spades, as if he knew it was there all along.

Mr. Belmont’s gaze snapped at the man, who met his eyes unblinkingly. And in that single glance, Mr. Belmont understood with a sinking dread that he had never been playing a game at all.

He had been set up.

"You cheated!" Mr. Belmont burst out, his chair scraping against the floor as he rose to his feet. "This game is void! I demand a reshuffle and game!"

Lucian remained seated, watching Mr. Belmont shake in disbelief. He tilted his head slightly and asked,

"How did I cheat?"

"You knew how to play!" Mr. Belmont pointed an accusing finger at him. "You pretended—you let me think—"

"I thought you were an experienced man, Harold Belmont," Lucian interrupted, his voice dropping low. "Surely you understand the concept of bluffing." A faint smile touched one corner of his lips.

Murmurs rippled through the gathered crowd and someone muttered from behind,

"Harold, you shouldn’t have put your house on the table."

"NO!" Mr. Belmont shouted. In a sudden panic, he lunged for the papers as though he could simply take them back and undo the evening.

But Lucian was faster. He picked the papers of the house before the human could touch them.

"Give them back!" Mr. Belmont snarled, reaching for the vampire, rage overcoming reason. The next moment, he lunged forward in desperation. His one hand curled into a fist to strike and the other shot out to snatch the papers.

But Lucian’s fingers closed around Harold’s fingers, interlocking them. And then, the pureblooded vampire twisted the human’s hand upwards in a harsh movement.

Mr. Belmont felt the bones of his hand break before he let out a painful scream, as his wrist had folded in an odd direction.

Lucian released the human’s hand and murmured with unnerving calm, "Consider it an introduction."

—

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