Demon Night

blackjack, we deal from ten decks to stop some of that, but Savi’s brain is something else.”
    Charlie’s brain was still stuck on the first part. “You’re supposed to cheat?”
    Ethan nodded. “Cheat, bluff, steal cards from the deck, pull an ace in from your cache—if you can get it past five of us without being caught, it means you’ve done something right. When you came in, I was holding just about nothing, but was doing real well until I saw you and my shields fell a bit.”
    “Oh. Sorry.”
    “That’s a lie, Miss Charlie.”
    She grinned. “Sorry you didn’t call me pretty until after you’d won.”
    “Well, so am I, then.”
    Her smile slipped when his focus shifted to her mouth, his eyes like sun-warmed honey, and she felt the slow lick of bloodlust.
    She cleared her throat and turned back to the table. “So you’re trying to block, and feel out the other players’ hands at the same time,” she said as she attempted to track the movement of cards. And it wasn’t just the psychic awareness, she thought; they were obviously forced to think quickly, to constantly adjust, to look for any way to gain an advantage. Her brow furrowed. “Is it a training exercise?”
    Play stopped dead. Five Guardians looked at her as if she’d said a baby was ugly, and Charlie sat back, eyeing each of them warily.
    “Whoa boy, Charlie,” Jake said. “We’re trying very hard to pretend we aren’t always in Guardian boot camp.”
    There was just enough humor in his reply that her discomfort faded. Ethan leaned in toward her, tilting his head as if he intended to share a secret.
    “They’re feeling a bit cooped up,” he whispered. The lines beside his eyes were etched deep with his silent laughter.
    The game started again, but this time with a thread of conversation that Charlie could follow taking place above the nonverbal one they were still signing with their hands.
    “I should have become a vampire,” Pim said. “At least they can leave.”
    Jake threw a chip into the center of the table. “You might be getting out earlier than you think. I’ve just been given parole.”
    “I reckon it’s more like probation,” Ethan said. “You’ll still be here a good part of it.”
    Jake folded his cards. “I’m going to eat a hamburger next week,” he announced.
    “No, you ain’t,” Ethan said, but no one seemed to hear him above the sounds of jealousy running around the table.
    “Freedom,” Pim sighed. “No tiny rooms.”
    “No scheduled workouts,” another said.
    Ethan shook his head, and made a gesture with his hand. He was dealt in a second later. “No crybaby novices.”
    “You don’t get to eat?” Charlie asked. “I know you don’t have to, but you aren’t allowed to?”
    The corner of Ethan’s mouth quirked. “Each one of these novices has slunk out for something in the past week.” He added over the denials that rose, “They’re just whining.”
    “It’s prison, Charlie,” Pim said. “We don’t get to fly out to the desert and—” There was a thump under the table, and she winced, glaring at Jake. “—learn to hog-tie cows.”
    A muscle was flexing in Ethan’s jaw. “Pim, you’d best—”
    “No, it’s okay,” Charlie quickly said. Pim’s tone was too good-natured to cause her any real embarrassment, but judging by the hard stare Ethan was leveling at the other Guardian, he was ready to go across the table. “I understand the frustration. And I’m kind of relieved it’s not just me, because it was my first thought when we got here, too.”
    “That you’d like to learn to rope cattle?” Jake asked, and his smile seemed to urge her into a story.
    But this wasn’t a tale that Charlie wanted to spend any time on, so she simply said, “No, the feeling of it—the fence outside, the processing through security. The little rooms and the common area.” She shrugged when the psychic hum disappeared, and play slowed to a crawl. “You know.”
    But something was wrong. Pim looked at her, and hesitated before she said, “I wasn’t really—” She bit her lip. “We don’t really think that, Charlie. Drifter’s right that we’re just whining for the sake—”
    “Shut it, novice.” Ethan’s voice had the crack of a whip, and Charlie flinched back from it, got to her feet. Ethan slowly stood, his skin pale, the edges of his mouth white.
    Oh, God. Sick mortification balled in her stomach. The words came in a desperate rush. “I don’t think that