Death's Ace

Despite all of our differences—color, race, religion, etc---there is one thing every person has in common.  We hate to be wrong.  Now, to be fair, each individual responds to learning of their error differently.  Some resent it; others deny it.  Still others barely react.  But we all know that twinge we get in our gut when our error in judgment or guess proves incorrect.  I’m no different.  So imagine my astonishment to learn Death was a proper name rather than a common noun.

         She showed up at my apartment on a day I was late for work.  Okay, that could be any day—I’m always late for work.  But the doorbell rang just as I was looking for my keys.  Usually only the landlord rings the bell early in the morning so I took my time answering.  The sharp knock told me I’d taken too long.  I crossed the room and opened the door to find a stranger standing there.

         Tall, willowy, with wavy auburn hair that hung to the middle of her back, this is the kind of surprise I don’t mind.  She was dressed simply in black pants and a scoop necked black top.  And she was smiling; her green eyes flashed when I smiled back.

         “Hello John,” she said.

         This vision knew my name.  Better and better.  Or not, if this was someone I met at a party I don’t remember attending.

         “Hello,” I said, confused. 

         This is where, in a normal conversation, a person introduces themselves and explains why they have knocked on your door.  Not this one.

         “May I come in?” She glanced over as my across-the-hall neighbor opened his door.  “I’d like to have a word with you and this is not the place.”

         “Uh, sure.”  Articulate, I know.  I led her into my apartment and found myself wishing I had thrown away the pizza box from two nights ago.

         “Nice place,” she said as she looked around.  It was hard to tell from her tone if she was joking or not.

         “Thanks,” I said.  After a long moment of silence where she just stared at me I cleared my throat.  “Listen, this is fun but I really have to get to work.”

         “Yes, about that.  I don’t suppose you could take the day off?”

         I actually thought about it.  So sue me.  A beautiful woman shows up, invites herself in and asks me to skip work.  I almost pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

         “Well, there is a project due and the boss has been riding me pretty hard to get it done,” I said.

         She casually crossed the room to the breakfast bar where I kept my little herb garden.  I know it sounds stupid but I like to cook.  And fresh ingredients are best.  I only do pizza when I’m working late and don’t have time to make something decent when I get home.

         I couldn’t help but notice she could really move.  Her walk was smooth and sultry.

         Her voice was husky and soft.  “I wouldn’t worry about that,” she said.  “Your boss won’t be in today.  There’s been a death in the family.”

         “So someone from the office sent you?”

         She smiled.  “Not exactly.”

         I’ve never been patient with games.  “Okay, then who are you?”

         She looked at me and said it.  Just like that.  “I am Death.”

         I misunderstood.  I mean, I was expecting a name like Sue or Alice or something sexy like Roxanne but not Death.  So I figured the company had sent her to fire me.  Not a bad way to go, I figured, but still I wanted to hear her say it. 

         “What, you’re like the axe man?  Sorry, axe woman?  They sent you here to tell me I’m fired?”

         “No, John,” she said and I liked the way she said my name.  “I am Death.  I am the guide from this realm to the next.”

         “Yeah, right.  Where’s your scythe and cloak?” 

         She gently brushed her hair over her shoulder and I saw the glint of silver at her neck.  A scythe pendant hung from a chain there.  “Cloaks went out in my father’s time.  This is much more comfortable,” she said.

         “Look, lady, this has been fun and all but I really need to go.”  I moved pointedly to the door.  “If you wouldn’t mind I’d rather not leave a delusional person inside my apartment.”

         She didn’t move, at least not her feet anyway.  Instead she smiled at me again and passed one hand over my little herb garden.  Right before my eyes the plants shriveled and died.  Just like that.  These were plants I painstakingly watered and gave sunlight so they would grow and be healthy.  Dead in less than two seconds.

         I moved to the counter to inspect the shriveled plants.  “How did you do that?”

         “I told you,” she said, her tone even.  “If you have a pet I could demonstrate further.”

         “The building doesn’t allow pets,” I said and looked at her.  Believe it or not having the ability to kill something with a wave of her hand didn’t make her less beautiful.

         “Are you going to choose to believe me now or will we waste more time in demonstrations?” she asked.  “Because I really am on something of a schedule.”

         It hit me suddenly why she had to be in my apartment.  It was my time—I was going to die today. I thought of all the things I had wanted to do with my life, all the places I had wanted to see.  And I was going to die without doing any of it.  What a waste.  Had I known my time was so limited I would have done things differently.  Maybe told off my boss.  Definitely asked the blonde down the hall for a date.

         “So this is it?” I asked her. “Can I at least call my mom and say goodbye?”

         Her eyes widened slightly.  Then she relaxed.  “I’m not here for you, John, at least not that way.  I have a proposition for you.”

         “What kind of proposition?”

         “I am prepared to grant you a favor in return for your doing a service for me,” she said, never once losing that soft smile.  “Think about it—Death would owe you a favor.  That is a very rare gift; I would say a powerful one as well.”

         “What would I have to do?  What could you possibly need me for?  You’re Death, for crying out loud!”

         “Everyone has their limitations,” she said.  “I need you because of your particular talents.”

         Now I knew this was a set up.  “I have no talents.”

         “Everyone has talents, John.  You are no exception to that.”

         I folded my arms across my chest.  “Name it then,” I said, feeling braver.  “What is it you need me to do?”

         “This is going to sound strange,” she said, very briefly looking uncomfortable. 

         “Will it sound as strange as chatting with Death across the breakfast bar?”

         “Fair point,” she agreed.  “I need you to sit in on a little game that has been arranged.  They won’t let me play anymore because Cupid swears I cheat, which I don’t of course.  At any rate, I know you play and I like your style.  I want you to play for me, in my place.”

         This was fast becoming the most confusing morning I had ever had.  Game?  The only game I played was poker, but she couldn’t be talking about poker.  Could she?

         “Let me get this straight,” I said.  “You want me to play a game for you? A poker game?”

         “Yes, John,” said Death. 

         “I can’t be the best player you could get.  Why me?”

         “It isn’t about being the best.  You have qualities that will be useful to win in this game.  As I said I like your style.”

         “What’s the big deal about this game?  Why do you want to win?”

         “The stakes are high,” she said.  “What I’ll win isn’t important.  It wouldn’t matter to you in any case.  All you need to know is if you win for me I will owe you a favor, and you’ll be able to collect it any time you wish.”

         “What if I agree but lose the game?” I said.  “What then?  Do I get nothing?”

         “Not one thing,” she agreed.  “Think about it, John.  What could I do for you?”

         That was easy.  My brother had been diagnosed with inoperable cancer just two months ago.  He had a wife and three kids and about six months left to live.  It just wasn’t right.

         “I have a brother,” I said.  “He’s pretty sick.”

         “Adam?  I know; I saw his name on my list.”

         “How far in advance do you know someone is going to die?”

         “I can’t tell you that,” she said.  “There are rules, you know.”

         “How does asking a living person to play poker for you fit in with your rules?”

         She smiled at me in an appreciative sort of way.  “Perhaps it’s best you don’t ask too many questions.  About your brother.  What would you want me to do?”

         “Can you cure him?”

         “I’m not God.  I’m just a messenger.”

         “Then what’s the deal with the plants?” I gestured at my herb garden cemetery.

         “Plants are easy.  The aura of Death can kill plants.  People are trickier.  They have to be on their way out before I can step in.”  She looked around.  “If you had a cat or a dog I could show you my talents with animals.  They don’t die, but they may wish they would.”

         “Never mind,” I said.  “What could you do for Adam?”

         “I can give him more time, to a point.  He wouldn’t be able to die of old age, but I could give him about ten more years.”

         I thought about this.  Ten years would put his kids in college.  At least they’d have memories of their dad when he died.  And all I’d have to do is play some cards.

         “All right.  You’ve got a deal.  What do we do, shake on it?”

         “Don’t you remember your mythology?” she said.  “The touch of Death and all?”

         “You just said you can’t kill me unless I’m already dying.”

         “You’d be surprised what you can live through.”  From nowhere that I could see she pulled a roll of parchment and laid it on the counter.  “This is a contract.  I’ll sign here and you sign there.”  I started to think she was some kind of magician when she pulled out the feathered quill and signed the parchment.

         Death put the quill on the counter.  “Your turn.”

         I turned the parchment so I could read.  It was basic and complete, right down to the part about letting my brother live ten more years.  The only thing it lacked was the date of his death, but as I thought about it I realized that was something I didn’t want to know.  I picked up the quill and signed my name where she had indicated.

         “This has to be a dream,” I said as I finished.  “I really hit my head in the shower and I’m on my bathroom floor right now imagining all of this.”

         That got a chuckle out of Death as she rolled up the parchment and made it disappear.  “Shall we go?”

         That was a good question, and it brought another to mind.  “Where is this game going to be held?”

         “In the other Realm,” she said.  “Don’t worry; I’ll just open a portal and we will be on our way.”

         “How many living people are in this other Realm?  Will I even survive the trip?”

         “Don’t worry,” Death told me.  “I told you this has been done before.  No harm will befall you.”

         “Are you sure this isn’t just some elaborate tactic to make your job easier?” I said, though I regretted it instantly.

         Death’s eyes flashed dangerously.  “Despite what some seem to think, I do not lie.”

         For a moment she radiated danger.  I fought a wave of panic as I stood there, wanting desperately to run or at least step back.  But then she got herself under control.  Death took a deep breath.

         She waved her hand across the doorway to my bedroom. “Let’s go.  Just step through the doorway and you will enter the other realm.”

         All I could think about was the pile of dirty laundry at the foot of my bed and the lingering odor of feet that never seemed to leave my bedroom.  I did not want her in my room in case this portal thing didn’t work.

         “Couldn’t we use another doorway?  Like into the closet or something?”

         “Would you just move?  We’re running out of time.”

         I sighed.  There’s another mood I don’t want from Death.  Impatience.  With one last look at my apartment I stepped into my bedroom.

         Well, it looked like I was going to step into my bedroom—until I actually did, and then the room vanished.  Fortunately so did the smell.  I could feel Death behind me; believe me when she’s that close you can feel her.  Crossing Realms was easier than I had thought it would be.  Aside from a light tingling sensation on my exposed skin there really wasn’t anything to it.  I stopped because there was a closed door in front of me.  Darkness surrounded us, interrupted only by flickering torches on either side of the door.

         Death stepped around me and turned the handle.  “This way,” she said and led me in.

         I hadn’t really given any thought to what another Realm would look like, aside from idle considerations of Heaven.  I certainly didn’t expect it to look like some guy’s basement.  Aside from the bizarre occupants of the room we entered it could have been the back room of a pool hall or the basement of my brother’s house—if his wife had let him decorate it the way he wanted.

         But to be honest I was paying more attention to the occupants of the room than the room itself.  Standing around a circular table were five of the strangest people I had ever seen—and I use the term loosely here.  To the left of the guy in the toga that was way too short and golden sandals that were way too shiny was a tall man-bull with extremely dangerous horns jutting out either side of his head.  Across from him was figure wearing a scarlet cloak and hood—really all you could see was the cloak and hood in the shape of a man.  Next to the cloaked guy was a guy who resembled a snake more than he resembled a man.  I swear I saw his forked tongue lash out when we entered the room.

         The fifth figure stepped out of the shadows and I stepped back.  He had to be at least 7 feet tall, like the bull guy, but with silver fur all over his body and wearing a loincloth.  He looked like a wolf, or like I’d imagine a werewolf would look.  They way he eyed me made me feel like his next meal.  I stepped closer to Death and tried not to look like easy prey.

         “Hello gentlemen,” Death said to the room at large.  “It’s always a pleasure.”

         They all acknowledged her, some saying her name in greeting.

         “I have brought my requisite human,” she said and gestured to me.  “I trust this will put to rest any concerns you have of my honesty.”  Her eyes flashed at the toga wearer, who looked uncomfortable.  I couldn’t blame him—if she looked at me like that I’d be looking for a place to hide.

         He did speak up though.  “You don’t have to take it so personally,” he said.  “I just thought it was odd that you won five hands in a row.”

         “Cupid, who has better luck than Death?” she said, a touch of anger in her tone.  “You know I never lie and what is cheating but another way to lie?  But you all have imposed this restriction and I have accepted it.  So get on with the game.”

         They took their seats, Death moving to a chair against the wall behind me.  The only seat left was the one between the wolf man and the cloaked figure.  I sat down and thought if I didn’t collapse from nerves during this game no other opponent would ever be able to shake me again.

         Death liked my style.  What she liked about my style she hadn’t said and I had been thinking about it in the back of my mind.  I was something of a risk taker—I would go for better hands even though the odds weren’t in my favor.  It was also well acknowledged I had a pretty good poker face.  I bluffed with the best of them.  Hopefully it would be good enough.

         I looked around at the table as Cupid dealt the cards.  They were a rough looking group, but then who else would Death have for poker buddies?  Was I expecting Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy?  Or maybe the Easter Bunny?

         Stacks of chips were in front of me.  I picked up my cards and tried to concentrate.  They weren’t a talkative bunch, thank goodness, or I’d never have won a hand.

         I want to say once the game started that it was easy to play, but that wouldn’t be true.  I guess some of Death’s rules rubbed off on me during our association.  The truth was that every time the werewolf sneezed, which he did a lot, I jumped.  If you’ve never heard a werewolf sneeze you just have no idea how terrifying it can be.  And they don’t say “excuse me” either.

         The game went on for hours, but the only indication of time was how stiff I got sitting on the chair.  There were no clocks or other time pieces in the room.  Occasionally we’d take a break but they never lasted long.  Everyone had a drink of something next to them—Death had gotten me a supply of sodas—and there were snacks.  The red cloaked figure drank out of a wine glass—whatever was in it was a deep red color.  He didn’t speak often but when he did I was always surprised by how musical and hypnotic his voice sounded.  He seemed like a really nice, educated guy.

         “How’s it going?” Death asked me during one break.

         “Pretty good,” I said.  “I think I’m up a bit.”  They’d had to explain the chips to me.  They weren’t at all what I was used to.

         “Good,” she said.  “Just keep it up and everything will be fine.”

         “You still aren’t going to tell me what you get if I win for you.”  It wasn’t a question.

         She looked at me and the torchlight made her eyes glitter.  “No, John.  Just play your game and don’t worry about that.  Remember you are playing for your brother.”

         She didn’t need to remind me.  I hadn’t forgotten.

         Cupid was the first one to leave the table.  He wasn’t a subtle player and it had been easy to figure out his tells.  Once he got down to his last few chips he’d basically fallen apart.  I don’t think he hung around after he got up and stormed out.

         The others were much cooler, calmer, and harder to figure out.  Death had told me the bull guy was a Minotaur—something from Greek mythology I had thought—and the guy on my left was indeed a werewolf.  The serpent looking guy was the king of snakes or something like that.  I hadn’t gotten a straight answer about the cloaked guy though. 

         “I’ll see your two,” he said in that very appealing voice.  “And I will raise three.”

         The snake-man put down his cards.  His voice was more like a hiss when he said, “Too rich for me.  I’m out.”  He looked at Death.  “He’s not a bad player, for a human.”

         I’m not sure if that was a compliment but in my present situation I thought it best not to be offended.  “Thanks.”

         Now there were just four of us left.  The Minotaur wasn’t as clumsy a player as Cupid but the tide had definitely turned against him.  He grew increasingly frustrated as he lost hand after hand.  It seemed like the later it got the worse he played.  Finally he left the table and we took another break.

         Death moved toward me.  “I have to admit I’m a little impressed,” she said.  “You are doing very well.”

         “You brought me in,” I told her.  “Didn’t you think I’d get this far?”

         “I had my doubts.  Someday I’d like to play you myself.”

         “I’d look forward to it.”

         When we returned to the table I had the opportunity to move my seat, which I did.  Now with just three of us around the table we could sit farther apart.  Even just the addition of two inches between me and the werewolf made me more comfortable.

         The red cloaked figure’s glass was now empty and from what I could see of his pale hands as he held his cards they had begun shaking.  Not sure what this meant I didn’t know what to make of it.  He also began inhaling deeply every few minutes.  Thinking he was trying to distract me I did my best to tune him out.

         His melodious voice shook when he pushed me the cards.  “Your deal,” he said.  Our fingers accidentally brushed when I reached for the cards and he pulled his hand away sharply and stood. 

         “Deal me out,” he said and started to leave.  He paused at Death and spoke in a low voice.  “I won’t accuse you of cheating, my dear.  I should have brought a larger supply with me.  Now I will have to hunt on my way home.”

         I wasn’t about to ask what that meant.  Suddenly only the werewolf and I were left at the table.  Death, who had alternated sitting and pacing throughout our play moved to a vacant seat at the table to watch.  She turned the chair around and straddled it.  Despite her grace, I found that position something of a departure from the cool, poised persona she had previously shown.

         At about this point a question came to my mind.  What does a werewolf do when he loses at poker?  Will mine be a short lived victory—as in ten seconds?  Or is he a gracious loser?

         I was beginning to think I had gone insane.  A gracious werewolf?  Somehow the possibility didn’t seem likely.

         “Deal.”  The werewolf had a gruff voice, essentially what you’d think a werewolf would sound like if it spoke to you.

         My response was automatic.  “Yes sir.”  I could have sworn Death stifled a laugh at that.

         For the next little while we played a sort of chip ping-pong.  He’d win a hand, then I’d win a hand, then he’d win again and so on.  Neither of us seemed to be losing dramatically or winning spectacularly and not once I considered the idea that I might be there for a very long time.

         The werewolf must have thought so too, because he began to up the ante.  He’d slide entire stacks of his chips into the center of the table and I would match him.  I was careful, though.  It’s either impossible to read the face of a werewolf or he was very good at hiding his tells.  Every player has tells, at least I used to think so.  Now I wasn’t so sure.

         Death would occasionally drum her fingernails on the back of her chair.  Once I glared at her to stop.  She glared back.  I didn’t do it again.

         The werewolf then shoved half his chips into the center of the table.  “Let’s get this over with,” he said.

         I looked at my hand.  I had been working on a full house.  He must have a pretty good hand if he felt confident enough to bet so much on it.  I didn’t want to blow it.  One more deal and I’d have the full house or not.

         I laid down two cards and he dealt me two.  Without looking at them I called his bet.  He looked at his own hand and pushed the remainder of his chips into the pile.  I did the same.

         Death, I noticed, had gripped her chair and was leaning forward.  I picked up my two cards and added them to my hand.  As I spread the cards out to see them it was all I could do to suppress my smile.  I had done it.  I had the full house.  Now as long as his hand wasn’t better the game was mine.

         Without speaking the werewolf laid out his cards.  Full house—eights over threes.  It was good.  Unfortunately for him, however, I had jacks over nines.  I put down the cards, face up, wondering if I would survive long enough to gloat.

         The werewolf looked hard at my cards, then back at his.  Death came to her feet so she could see the table better.  He also stood and I felt I should, too.  I cringed a little, half expecting him to pounce.

         Instead he sighed and held out his hand.  No one was more surprised than me when I shook it.  “Well played,” he said to me.  Then he turned to Death.  “You’ve won.  It’s all yours.”

         Her face was flushed.  The added color made her eyes brighter.  “Thank you.  I will be in touch.”

         The werewolf nodded once and then turned and strode out the door.  Alone, Death and I looked at each other and started to laugh.  I think it was the relief, but for whatever reason it was several minutes before we got control of ourselves.

         “I’ll take you home now,” she said.  “Come on.”

         I followed her to the door.  “Someday you’re going to tell me what that was all about, right?”

         She didn’t answer.

         Before I knew it I was back in my apartment.  It was dark, evening obviously.  My cell phone, on the table where I had left it, was flashing.  Work had probably called wondering why I never showed up.  I moved to the wall and flipped the light switch.  Death crossed the room and sat down on the couch.

         “So, you’ve won your favor,” she said.  “Shall we settle that now or would you like to think on it some more?”

         “Now,” I said.  “I haven’t changed my mind.  Give Adam his ten extra years.”

         “Done.”  Death tossed her hair in a very feminine gesture.  “I want to thank you, John.  You played well.  Watching you it almost looked easy.”

         “Are you kidding?” I sank into the chair opposite her and leaned back.  “I thought any one of those players would kill me if they lost.  I’ve never been so stressed in my life.”

         “I guess deadlines and other mortal stresses would seem somewhat trivial now,” she agreed.

         Just her mentioning it brought to mind the project I had been working on.  Funny, though, the familiar stomach knot that always accompanied thoughts of the project was gone.  She was right.  I felt stronger, more empowered, like I could take on anything.

         “Tell me something,” I said to her.  “The cloaked guy, who—or what—was he?”

         “A vampire,” she said in an easy tone.

         I swallowed hard.  “A vampire?  I just spent the day with a vampire?”

         “He can only drain your blood, you know,” she said.  “The Minotaur could tear you limb from limb, the serpent king could poison you, the werewolf—well, let’s just say his press is pretty accurate.  And you don’t want to get on the wrong side of Cupid.  He can screw up your love life so badly your descendents—if you have any—will have trouble finding dates.”

         “You run with a dangerous crowd.”

         “We aren’t exactly friends,” said Death.  She got to her feet in a single, fluid motion.  “I think I should leave you now.  I have something I need to collect.”

         I stopped her.  “About that, when am I going to learn what I just won for you?”

         She smiled.  “I don’t know.  Perhaps you and I can play our own game sometime.  And if you win, I’ll tell you.”

         I smiled back at her.  “You’ve got a deal,” I said.