Critical Failures III (Caverns and Creatures Book 3) (25 page)

Chapter 32

Julian had gotten bored with small-stakes roulette, and decided to take the dealer’s advice to move on to a higher limit table. No physical barrier separated the high limit area from the rest of the casino, but it felt like a different world. The lights were dimmer, the carpet softer, the lingering smoke in the air was less from cigarettes, and more from cigars. It wasn’t a place for a pizza delivery guy, or most of the riff-raff that had followed him over here. He was quickly drawing suspicion with the new dealer.

“I don’t know how he’s doing it,” the dealer said to the large, blue-suited man to his left. Judging by the earpiece and the muscles threatening to burst through the fabric of his suit, Julian guessed he was casino security. They were whispering, but not a word of it got past Julian’s elf ears. “He’s either the luckiest sonofabitch this side of the Mississipi, or –”

“Nobody’s that lucky. He’s cheating.”

“But how? He’s not even picking the numbers himself.”

“Let me see.”

Julian felt he might be pushing his luck. Weren’t these the guys in the movies who took cheaters in the back room and beat the shit out of them? But fuck it. They had nothing on him. What were they going to accuse him of? Sorcery? Ha! He wouldn’t be here much longer anyway. He was down to his last zero-level spell, and his ability to remain focused was being compromised by the server who kept pouring drinks down his throat. She had also followed him to the high limit table, as he was tipping her two hundred dollars for every drink she brought him. Consequently, the drinks were coming more and more frequently, and now this big asshole in a suit was giving him the stink eye, and fucking racists, and shit he was fucked up. Wasn’t there something he was supposed to be doing?
Keep your mind on the roulette ball, or the room will start spinning again.

“Sir?” said the dealer. “Who’s it going to be this time?”

“Huh?” said Julian. “Oh right.” He scanned the crowd of eager faces. They were all staring at him, some of them raising their hands. One of them was wearing a white dress and a tiara that said
Bachelorette
. That was hot. “You’re pretty. Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sir?” the dealer said a little more curtly.

“Oh yeah,” said Julian. “Pick a number, Sugarbuns.”

The girl in the white dress cleared her throat. “Since Jeremy and I have been together for
three
years…”

“Aaaaaaaaawwwwwwwww!” said the three girls in her entourage.

Shit. This chick’s got a boyfriend?

“And since we’ll be getting married in
three
days…”

“Yay!” said the entourage.

You can forget about that drink, bitch.

“And since I’m here with my
three
best friends…”

“Aaaaaaaaawwwwwwwww!”

Jesus Christ, enough already. The stage is over there, lady.
Even the dealer and the security guy were rolling their eyes at this point.

“And since –”

“And since we don’t want to be here for
three
goddamn hours,” said Julian. He placed a stack of hundred dollar chips on three. “My bet is three.”

Everyone at the table placed their bets on three. Not a single chip was laid down on any other square. The piles of chips looked like a city in the desert.
Vegas
.

The dealer spun the wheel.

“Come on, three!” said the young bride-to-be.

“Oh yeah!” shouted the old woman who had provided Julian with his first stack of chips. “Mama needs a new pair of boobs!” She had had her fair share of drinks as well.

“Lori, it’s Dad,” said a forty-something year old man into his cell phone. He gripped his fanny pack excitedly. “Something’s come up, and… well pack your bags. Mom and I are sending you to Yale!” The excited screaming coming out of the phone spread warmth in Julian’s heart. Well, that and the booze.

Speaking of which, he was just about done with his –

“Buttery Nipple?” The serving girl tapped Julian on the shoulder, startling the shit out of him.

“Wha! Oh, thank you.” Julian accepted the sweet, caramel-colored drink and grabbed a pile of chips for the server without looking to see what denominations they were. She was a nice girl, with nice, big, perky boobies. She deserved –
Oh shit, the ball!

Julian whirled around to look at the roulette wheel. His mental tether was completely severed. He strained to remember the incantation. It was so simple. Just a zero-level spell. But it was no use. He was completely tapped out of magic for the day.

The ball bounced all over the place. Julian looked at the old woman. She had helped him get started, and now he was costing her a new pair of breasts. He looked at Lori’s mother. Lori wouldn’t be going to Yale after all. He looked at the bachelorette. She had perky boobies too.

There was still a chance the ball might land on three. That’s what the game was all about, right? The ball bounced less erratically as the wheel slowed down.

Come on, three! Come on, three! Come on, three!

“Twenty-one!” announced the dealer. Julian stared gloomily at the ball as it revolved more and more slowly around the center axle. He was afraid to look up. The crowd at the table was dead silent, except for Lori’s voice on her dad’s cell phone. “Dad? Dad? Are you still there? Dad, what’s wrong?”

Julian sucked back his Buttery Nipple and mustered up the courage to look up. Everyone stared back at him, mouths hanging ajar.

“What have I done?” said Lori’s dad, tears welling up in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” said Julian. He shoved a pile of chips his way. “Send your kid to Yale.”

The older woman lit up another cigarette, not appearing to give much of a shit about how much money she’d just lost, but it didn’t alleviate Julian’s feelings of guilt. He shoved a smaller pile of chips to her. “Go get yourself some new boobs.”

The bachelorette glared at Julian, her hands on her hips. Her entourage stood behind her in a show of solidarity.

“What?” shouted Julian defensively. “I owe you
nothing
, you cockteasing whore!”

The young women looked at one another, their eyes and mouths gaping wide open like they were four fish.

“Okay,” said the security guy. “That’s enough. Sir, I’m going to have to escort you off the premises.”

“Oh what?” Julian had been waiting for this. He spoke loudly, addressing the surrounding crowd more than the large man grabbing him by the arm. “A guy wins a little cash at your casino, and so you boot him out? Tell me that’s not a rigged system!” People turned around in their slot-machine stools to look as Julian was dragged past them. “Careful you don’t win anything!” he shouted. “They’ll throw your ass out!”

“Sir!” The security guy spun Julian around and spoke very firmly to him. “You’re not being thrown out for winning. You’re being thrown out for being drunk and disorderly.”

“Those were complimentary drinks!” said Julian, poking the man in his huge chest. “
You
did this to me!
You
made me drunken dis—” He vomited down the front of the man’s blue suit. A torrent of Buttery Nipple gushed out of his mouth.

“For the love of –” He pressed his finger against his earpiece. “Yes sir, I’ll be right there.” He called out to a couple of younger guys in identical blue suits. “Todd! Clayton!”

The two young men ran over. “Yes sir!”

“I’ve got a situation in the Penthouse. Get this idiot the fuck out of here for me, would you?”

“I’m a guest here,” said Julian. His words even sounded slurred to himself. “And I don’t think that’s a very professional way to address a –”

The security guy grabbed Julian by the throat. “You haven’t seen unprofessional, son. You set foot in the Beauregard again, and you’re gonna learn what unprofessional really means.”

Chapter 33

Cooper stood on the wall of the top tier of the parking deck with bat-Katherine perched on his shoulders and flapping her wings just hard enough to maintain her position. The Beauregard stood huge and brightly lit against night sky in front of him. He held the Bag of Holding in one hand and Dennis’s shotgun in the other. “You ready, Professor?”

Professor Goosewaddle hovered next to Cooper and shrugged. “I can’t rightly say. I’m still not one hundred percent certain who this Mordred character is and why we are hunting him.”

“Good enough for me.” Cooper squatted down and launched himself out into the open air. “Drew Breeeeeees!”

After a stomach-turning dip, Cooper felt the reassuring grip of Katherine’s giant bat feet on his shoulders, and they began to ascend. The parking deck wasn’t far from the main building, so the ascent was at a very steep angle, giving Cooper a good look into the rooms. It was mostly normal people doing boring shit. Watching TV, eating, drinking, crying. He was disappointed at how few wild, cocaine-fuelled orgies were taking place.

When they reached the top floor, Cooper knew they had the right place. There was the fat fuck himself, sprawled out naked on the bed like a beached whale, if a whale could masturbate furiously to shitty, eighties-era porn. He might have even felt sorry for interrupting if not for the fact that it was going to be so goddamn hilarious.

The plan was to try punching through the window first, but fuck that. Blasting a Beauregard penthouse window with a shotgun wasn’t the sort of opportunity he imagined he would get again anytime soon.

“Here goes nothin’,” said Cooper. He cocked the shotgun. Katherine screeched. It was probably something about how shooting the window was only supposed to be a last resort, but he preferred to interpret it as “HELL YEAH!” He extended his arm toward the window and pulled the trigger.

The entire window turned white with spider web cracks, denying Cooper the opportunity to see Mordred’s reaction. It also stubbornly continued to deny them entrance. He cocked the shotgun for a second blast, but it was empty.
Fuck. Who would have thought punching would be the last resort option?

Cooper punched and punched, but the window wasn’t budging. He beat on it with the shotgun, but it was no use. They must take suicide pretty fucking seriously at the Beauregard.

Well shit. They’d done all they could. Mordred wins another round.
Cooper’s friends were suffocating inside a bag hundreds of feet off the ground. “Come on, Katherine. It’s time to call it. Fly us up to the roof.”

“Just a second,” said Professor Goosewaddle. “Let me give it a try.” He held his hands palms out toward the window and sang something that sounded like a nursery rhyme in a foreign language. Bolts of lightning flew out of his hands, coating the entire surface of the window in blue, crackling electricity. After a few seconds, the steel frame holding the window in place began to bubble and melt. Finally, the window exploded. The lightning shot into the room, catching the curtains on fire and scorching the paint on the walls. Goosewaddle ended the spell.

Katherine flew into the room. Mordred was no longer on the bed, but from the fresh brown stain on the sheets, Cooper had a pretty good idea where he’d gone. He dropped the Bag of Holding down on the bed and ran to the bathroom.

“Mordred!” Cooper shouted, banging on the bathroom door.
Fuck that.
He kicked it in. Mordred was sobbing and wadding up some toilet paper, presumably to wipe up the shit that was running down his inner thigh.
Fuck that, too.
Cooper had been shitting himself for months because of this fat asshole. He grabbed Mordred by the arm and yanked. “Get the fuck out of there.”

Cooper held the empty shotgun on Mordred as he shoved him into the bedroom, in front of the television. Mordred’s cheeks glistened with the tracks of tears as he sobbed, and his entire crotch region glistened with lube. Behind him, on the TV screen, some big-haired blonde was getting reamed from behind by a muscular dude sporting a cowboy hat and an impressive handlebar mustache.

“Dave,” said Katherine. Dave spilled out of the Bag of Holding onto the floor where the rest of the group were on their backs, gasping for air like a bunch of fish on a dock. “Did I get everyone?”

Dave raised a finger while trying to catch his breath.

“What?” said Katherine. “One more?”

Dave nodded. “Ch… Ch…Chaz,” he finally spat out.

Katherine reached into the bag once more. “Chaz!”

Chaz fell out of the bag and sucked in enough air to inflate a life raft. “Assholes!” he said as he exhaled.

“Sorry,” said Katherine. “There are so many people to keep track of.”

“You managed to remember the fucking dog.”

“Butterbean is my Animal Companion,” said Katherine. “We share a special bond.”

Butterbean growled and snarled at Katherine.

“Where are we?” said Randy. “How did we get here?”

“We’re in the penthouse of the Beauregard,” said Tim.

“It looked better in the brochure,” said Dennis.

“That’s because it wasn’t on fucking fire,” said Tim. “What the hell happened in here?”

“That glass is tough as shit,” said Cooper. “The professor had to Lightning Bolt it.”

“Ride me, Larry!” said the big-haired blonde on TV. “Ride me like a bull!”

“What the fuck are you watching?” said Cooper. “
Dallas
?”

“Cooper!” shouted Tim.

Cooper tore his gaze away from the shitty porn. Mordred had grabbed his dice bag from off the table near him.

“Um,” said Cooper. “What should I do?”

“You listen to
me
!” said Mordred. “I don’t know why you couldn’t just leave me alone. I’m sorry for what happened to you, but what’s done is done. I didn’t know you’d stay that way permanently.”

Cooper could barely hear him over the wind whipping in through the open window and flapping of sheets and burning curtains. “What?”

“You were supposed to return exactly the same as before you left,” Mordred yelled. “Back to normal, with no memories of where you’d been. I was going to let you all live, but you’ve pushed my hand.”

“Just give us the dice, Mordred,” said Tim. “Nobody has to get hurt. This can all end right now.”

“The world as you know it is about to end right now!” said Mordred. “And I’m afraid a lot of people will have to get hurt. My reign will have a messy beginning, but once I have crushed all opposition, the world will be a better place for it. Imagine a world with no poverty, no disease, no –”

“I’ve heard enough of this bullshit,” said Tim. “Katherine, dominate him!”

Katherine opened her eyes wide and glared at Mordred.

Mordred turned away and grabbed a little book off the table. He held it out toward Katherine.

Katherine hissed and turned away, shutting her eyes tight.

“What is that?” said Chaz.

“A bible,” said Tim. “Fucking Gideons.”

“It must count as a Holy Symbol,” said Dave.

“Fuck this,” said Tim. “Cooper, just shoot him.”

“Uhhh…” said Cooper. He raised the shotgun slowly at Mordred, but Tim was calling his bluff.

“If anything happens to me,” said Mordred, “the Horsemen will kill Stacy.”

“All right,” said Tim. “Cooper, stand down.”

Cooper lowered the gun. His bluff remained uncalled.

“What are you offering?” asked Tim.

“Not much,” Mordred said smugly. “My reign begins tonight. The best I can offer you is a head start. If you leave now, I’ll give you an hour before I summon the Horsemen to get as far away from here as you can. Force my hand, and… well, I’ll just warn you that it’s a very short incantation.”

“And Stacy?”

“She is to be my queen.”

“No good,” said Tim.

“You are not in a position to bargain,” said Mordred. “I need but speak the words, and my Horsemen will appear. I’m offering you a chance to live. Would you throw all of your friends’ lives away over some girl?”

“That
is
kinda fucked up, dude,” said Cooper.

“We want the dice,” said Dave.

“Dave!” said Tim. “No! I won’t sacrifice Stacy to…” He looked at Mordred, who was grinning as his penis started to perk up again. “… to that.”

“You don’t speak for all of us,” said Dave. He turned to Mordred. “Just let us use the dice one more time, and you’ll never see us again.

“Nice try,” said Mordred. “You think I’m just going to hand over the keys to my revolution? You have ten seconds to leave before I bring back the Horsemen!”

“Come on, man!”

“Ten!”

“Shit,” said Dave. “Well, let’s go then.

“Stop,” said Tim. He had that dangerous, borderline suicidal look in his eyes again. “Nobody’s going anywhere.”

“Nine!” said Mordred, nostrils flaring.

“Eight,” said Tim, drawing the dagger from his belt.

“Tim,” said Cooper. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Do you think I’m bluffing?” asked Mordred.

“You fat sack of shit,” said Tim, taking a step closer to Mordred. “You never intended to bring any of us back, did you? I mean, not even from the start. You were going to keep us in that game forever, like we were fucking toys in your big ass sand box.”

“You’re trying one of your Hail Mary mind games again,” said Mordred. “I’m not falling for it. Popsicles won’t save you this time.”

“My seventeen Intelligence score says otherwise.”

Mordred shook his head and sneered. “You’re pathetic. Seven.”

Tim took a series of rapid steps toward Mordred, dagger in hand, counting with each step. “Six! Five! Four! Three!”

“Tim, no!” shouted Dave.

Mordred held the bag up over his head. “Eric, Scott, Nathan, Milton, RETURN!”

The air crackled with electricity while the room filled with bright, white light. Cooper had to avert his eyes. He held the shotgun by the barrel, hoping he’d at least get the chance to smash one of those fuckers in the face before they killed everybody.

From outside the room, someone started banging on the door. “Hotel security. Open the door!”

The electricity in the air died down as the white light started to fade, and the sound of screaming took up the slack.

The door flew open as a large man in a blue suit kicked it in. His suit was wet and brown down the front with what Cooper recognized as fresh, booze-induced vomit, and his eyes were wide with what looked more like disgust than terror. “What the hell is going on in here?”

Cooper turned to see what he was looking at. Mordred was standing nude in front of four prepubescent boys. Well, five if you counted Tim.

Mordred looked from the security person to the television, where the camera was at an odd angle, focused on a set of hairy balls slapping against ass.

“I can explain,” said Mordred, taking a step back away from the traumatized children. “This isn’t what it – Ow!” He hopped on one foot, having stepped on a piece of broken glass. Three hops later, he landed on a different piece of glass, lost his balance, and fell out of the open window.

Tim stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed into the night sky. “I’ve done it again.”