7 Deadly Instincts (The Sinfire Chronicles Book 1)

The casino felt like a palace.

They went to the best one—Avarica’s, which was connected to the Avarica family in Greed City. He didn’t see any dwarves—it was run by orcs and humans, but the Avarica family was definitely in charge of the place.

Everything had polished wood, thick red velvet curtains, gold-plated fixtures with scantily clad waitresses and waiters—muscles showing—hurried to bring people food and drinks. Gray had flashbacks to Princess Lilian’s palace. Thinking about her and her finery made him feel uneasy, but that was easy to let those thoughts go. Letting the thought go without holding onto them also took the sting out of the feelings connected to them. It was the essence of self-mastery.

But the casino was not a place of self-mastery, not for most. For most, it was all about self-indulgence, though he had the idea that the really gamblers had to leash their feelings up tight.

While Rynn had first seemed out of place, she found a comfortable place to sit watching the pink imp races. There was a tiny little stadium with a few dozen seats around a little track—about a dozen feet long. It was a replica of the coliseum at First Field, which didn’t impress Gray much. However, instead of people dying in front of bloodthirsty fans, there were tiny pink demons, not even a foot tall, who would chase after a glowing sphere of mana around the track. First pink imp across the finish line won. The imps were numbered, and you could bet on them, and they had the most atrocious names. The favored imp was Cockgobbler, number 69 in most of the races. He was up against other imps with a variety of names Toejam Targaryen, Armpit the Sniff, Lucky Buttcrack, Jizzraker, and Magic Ick.

Gray sat with her, and he couldn’t help but place a bet on Toejam Targaryen, who was the underdog at twenty-to-one against.

Rynn frowned at him. “He’s not likely to win.”

Gray shrugged. “Always bet on the underdog. It’s what Settie did.”

“How so?” she asked.

“She bet on me. I was some skinny arena slave with a bad heart. And we’re one series of events from winning the Testing. Pinch is right. We’re going to get scooped up as a squad.”

“That hardly ever happens.” Rynn was eyeing another patrons bag of butterbang. This wasn’t just butter, but sugar and spicescrape, something that Midj talked about with a dreamy expression on her face.

“Why’s that?” Gray asked.

Rynn took his hand and entwined his fingers in hers. “Because in the past, sometimes, kill squads do so well, they cause trouble for the established squads in the Watchfire families. Believe me, the competition doesn’t end once we finish at First Field. It continues through your entire career. It’s a whole thing, but I don’t mind. I like competing. I’m very good at it.” She paused. “Most of the time.”

“You’re being nice to Pinch.”

“Do you mean Pamalee?” the elf girl asked with a smile. “I’m trying. When she beat up on me, it put me in a bad place. I never want to go back there. It was scary, losing myself like that. You know. You saw me. You really helped me. You and Ames.”

“Me and Ames,” Gray said, thinking.

“Do you know what’s crazy?” Rynn asked.

“Tell me, Mrs. Yes.”

Rynn smiled shyly. “I’m kind of disappointed it’s only going to be the three of us. Well, disappointed and relieved. I’m so comfortable with the three of us. And yet, for a minute there, I had this vision of us living together with all these women, in a big family.”

“No men?” Gray asked.

The elf girl rolled her eyes. “No other men. I only want you in that way. But other women? Being with Ames was exciting, especially when you were feeling all that lust with Emerilia. It’s probably going to be a little awkward when you see her again.”

“Definitely awkward,” she said with a laugh.

The race started and the imps took off running after the glowing ball of mana. Everyone in the miniature little stadium were on their feet, watching the running imps race off on their chubby legs, their tiny fanged mouths dripping with drool, and their sparkling with mana.

Cockgobbler got tangled with another imp, and they started fighting, ripping into each other’s flesh with their tiny talons. Black blood started to fly.

That let Toejam Targaryen take the lead as he rounded the corner, his pink belly flapping this way and that. It was all so ridiculous.

Gray had made a ten shekel bet—if he won, he’d get two hundred shekels. That would have been a fortune for him, not two years ago, real life-changing money. He could’ve probably used that to start business enterprise, maybe get enough money for a room outside of the arena, maybe even purchase his freedom.

Now, he had a place to live and food, and yet, he liked the idea of the money. He could maybe get a nice room in Lust City for him, Rynn, and Ames, a little holiday from Ruin Manor and First Field. His greed resonance was ignited, and he felt his core swell.

In the end, Jizzraker pulled down Toejam, and another of the imps won.

“Damn. I just lost ten shekels,” Gray said with a shrug.

Rynn smiled at him. “You didn’t lose it. You know where it is, but you just can’t get to it. Not without having to deal with those guys.” She nodded at two men in red robes. One had a throat covered in mana marks. The other radiated malice.

“Security,” Gray said.

“Which the Dice Market takes very seriously,” Rynn added. “They have to.”

Gray thought about Pinch, and their talk of power, status, and money. Then he thought of the way the Watchfire families handled their kiss squads. “It’s to control the people,” he said quietly.

“What are we talking about, Mr. No?” Rynn asked.

“The Watchfire families normally don’t recruit entire squads because it’s like you said, they might get too much power. The Watchfire family wants to control who works for them. Dividing people is a way to control them. The six families like things the way they are. They don’t want anything to change. It’s why poaching is illegal.”

“Well, it’s to keep safe, right?” Rynn thought for a moment. “Or that’s what they say. They don’t want random people going in and taking mana because they might crack the Hellbinder Barrier, or get themselves killed, or cause mischief with it. We shouldn’t be talking about this, not out in public. Not when we’re still in the Testing anyway. Pamalee was just dreaming about riches. Speaking of which, should we check on her?”

“I’ll go. Unless you want to come.”

Rynn gave him a smile. “I don’t have anything to worry about. If you try anything with her, you’d probably explode and kill a bunch of people. So, no exploding.”

“Only with you, Rynnanatha.”

He left her, thinking about the imps. They seemed to be creations made for gambling. He had to wonder how that worked. Like with the demons they’d unleashed on them during Chaotica, there seemed to be a mechanic for creating demons, or least fashioning them in some way. The envy steeds in Old Town had been far bigger and tougher than the demonic horses they’d faced on the Chaotica field. He’d have to explore that more. Maybe Emerilia could tell him something. It would give them something to talk about other than their encounter with Settie in the Widow’s workshop.

He found Pinch at the dice table, a wine glass in her hand, looking more happy then he’d ever seen her before. She had a pile of wooden chits, powered with mana, in front of her. The glow of the chits radiated onto her face. On the chis were various denominations written in different colors.

The table was divided into various numbers marking any number of possible combinations from throwing two dice, from one to twelve. The biggest section was for the number seven, which was the likeliest number.

She flashed him a smile. “Grayson Fade, join me. I can’t lose tonight. I’m up two hundred and sixty-six percent. Put money down. Win a fortune. Maybe we won’t have to join a kill squad.”

Gray sat down next to her. It was between games, and the cambion orc—a very large woman with very large green breasts, cinched down in a black and red corset, was paying off people with chits, talking with her comrade, an orc with broken tusks in a suit and vest and big black boots, and trying convince another aptron that the dice didn’t have any mana in them. No cheating at Avarica’s. That particular Watchfire family didn’t need to. Their pockets were as deep as the Weeping Well, or so the gaming she-orc said.

She was an interesting one—She had a million things to do, a million people to talk to, but she wasn’t just keeping her calm, she was getting mana. If Gray had to bet—and he was there to do just that—he would’ve bet she had a patience resonance. The crazier things got, the more calm she became—and the more golden mana went into her core.

Pinch elbowed him. “You like Gladice? You like her big green boobies? Stare much?” That fae girl was drunk, which was probably stupid, given she had at least a thousand chits in front of her, if not two. But it wasn’t just the wine, he knew, it was being there, risking her money, over and over, seomtimes losing, sometimes winning. The losing hurt. But the winning was heaven for her.

Gray leaned in close and whispered into the fae girl’s pointed ear. “Don’t tell anyone, but I can see people’s mana. You’ll want to shout, because you’re drunk, but don’t.”

Pinch jerked back. She smiled. “Fucking Grayson Fade. I have every reason to hate you, and you’ve given me one more.”

“You don’t doubt it?” he asked.

She barked laughter. “Of course you fucking can do all the things no one else can do. Of course. With your big, fat…” she paused. “Cock. You thought I was going to say core. But no. let’s not talk about mana and resonances and kills quads and all that shit.” Pinch raised her glass. “Let’s have a good time for once in our fucking lives!”

The people around her raised their glasses and howled along with her.

From another table, dice clattered. Someone had won, and shouting broke from over there.

Gladice came over and Gray exchanged shekels for chits.

Pinch gave him another elbow. “You can see they’re full of mana. If you try and take them out of Avarica’s, they explode into bright blue goo. And the manamancer guards see it and beat the shit out of you, if they don’t outright kill you. Fucking dwarves. No sense of humor.”

“I don’t see dwarves,” Gray said.

Pinch touched the side of her eye. “They’re here. They watch. Bring in soothsayers or seers or whatever else to make sure no one cheats. But it’s all cheat. Over time, the house always wins. Because people are fucking idiots.”

“So why are you here if the house always wins?” he asked.

She grinned. “Not always. Over time, you play the odds, you’re smart, and you win. Like I did at First Field. Father was so fucking pissed that I was there. You have no idea. He had me on a tight leash, an allowance, just enough to keep me in line. Just enough. It was that fucking cunts fault. Miss Sweetrose. We’re not talking about that evil bitch tonight. What was I saying?”

Gray was going to help her, but she cut him off. “Staying meant going to Briarblood College, where Father would still be lording over my life. No. First Field meant money, and an escape, and I saw my way out. My fucking way out from the idiots. From Father Mrs. Sweetrose. We are not talking about her, Gray!”

Gladice drifted over. “Is there a problem, Miss Thornpinch.”

Pinch lifted her chin. “Not a problem, Miss Gladice. I’ll keep my voice down. You aren’t going to take the dice from me.”

The she-orc’s smile showed a world of tolerance and patience. “Of course not, Miss Thornpinch. The other players would have my head if you tried. It seems the sevens love you tonight.”

“Tonight and every night, Miss Gladice. Are we almost ready?”

“Almost,” the she-orc said. “Just setting up. Taking a break. Exchanging dice. How was Gorzonla’s?”

“Delicious as ever,” Pinch said.

“Good to hear. When you see him, give him my best.”

“Oh, I shall, Gladice. I shall.”

The she-orc moved on.

It was clear—on those nights he’d seen her in the market, she’d eaten the best goblin restaurant in town and then came to the best dwarven casino.

Pinch stared at him, not glancing away for a second. “What was I saying?”

Gray chuckled. “I was asking myself the same question.”

“Idiot!” Pinch slapped his arm. “You wanted to know why I’m here. In my happy place. So much money, so much lust, food, drink, wine, women and song. Avarica’s Casino, no better place on Midmere. The possibilities, Gray. It’s the possibilities. Probabilities. In a few moments, I’ll roll dice, and the dice will come up sevens because of the math. It’s just mathetmatics. Like at First Field. The sum of bullying, being paid, dealing with fucking Tillwick Duskdrop, was greater than the sum of me dealing with Father, and that cunt who will not be named—”

“Mrs. Sweetrose—” Gray kind of liked needling Pinch while she was drunk.

The fae girl nodded. “Yes. Her. Bittercunt, is what I sometimes call her. Her. The sum of that was greater. You were the variable. I knew. You were the variable in the equation. This handsome human thing—” she laughed. “Don’t fucking look at me like that. You know you’re handsome, Mr. Harem. The elf bitch calls you Mr. No, but you’re not. You’re Mr. Yes, yes to all the ladies. Don’t fucking deny it. I’m not an idiot.”

“So with me, with Squad 23, the math was right.”

“Right.” Pinch grabbed her wine glass which was empty—not surprising. “But that kiss, when we kissed, it wasn’t right. It could kill me. I won’t talk about that. That’s not math. That’s feelings. Feelings. the demons don’t need to torture us, no. The gods figured that out when they made us and gave us feelnigs, desires, instincts, instincts that you would think would help us, but no, they destroy us, one stupid desire at a time.”

She pointed. “You see the numbers on the table. The idiots get a feeling, and they want to play God’s Eyes, or Six Angels Six Demons, or the Difficult Eight, and they think, this will by moment. But not us, Grayson Fade. We play the Sevens, because sevens are all over the world, the seven fucking instincts, in us, driving us, all the time. It’s a fucking horror. All of it. All of it.”

She’d gone on and on and tired herself out. She leaned against him, pressing her face against his arm. She was probably going to pass out, which meant they’d have to carry her home. He probably wouldn’t be getting the truth of his ruby necklace that night, unfortunately.

He put an arm around her, and he felt the lust. He saw her red lust around her core, and just like that, she pushed him away. “And that is why I’m here. To forget about the horror. To embrace the possibilities. To dream, Grayson Fade. The Dice Markets, the casinos, it’s all about the dream.”

“Players ready?” Gladice barked.

“Ready!” the voices rose into a chorus.

Loudest of all was the familiar scarred orc across the table form them. He’d snuck up when Gray and Pinch had been talking.

“That’s fucking Kabe,” Pinch slurred.

The leader of the Wrath City Raiders nodded. With him was an orc with pale green skin, nearly white, and a metal arm, glowing with white mana. The metal looked like it had been hammered by the worst smith on Midmere with very little artistry. The fingers were basically hunks of iron stuck into the dull alloy. The ugliness didn’t end there. White hair sprouted from various parts of his balding scalp. His eyes were a bright pink.

Kabe smiled, his golden tooth flashing in the mana lamplight. “Is there anything more fun than throwing dice with murderers?”

“Yes,” Gray said with a laugh. “I can name several things. Pretty sure throwing dice with you doesn’t even make my top ten.”