There Is An Occult Store Near The Seattle Underground Where You Must Never, Ever Go. And Here’s Why.
Every neuron in his brain was telling him to scream “no!” as loud as a he could but all Tad managed to say was, “And if you win?”
“I get the skull for half-price… 5 grand. Deal?”
Tad slowly nodded and Blackstone expertly thumbed one corner of the deck as he said, “You can even shuffle ‘em for me, mate.”
He passed the deck to Tad who shuffled them, cut them, and then shuffled them again. This wasn’t his first time around cards; W.W.W. sold plenty of magician decks and he had to be fast with his hands to convince a skeptical buyer that even a spoiled child begging for the deck could pull off the sleight-of-hand tricks promised on the box.
Tad slammed the deck on the table, “You first.”
Nigel slid the card from the top and pushed it against his head, card face out. Tad smiled, secretly beaming with pride. His deck-stacking had worked as intended, he was looking right at the two of spades. Tad turned the top card over to reveal a king.
“Oooh… King beats deuces… No hard feelings right?” Tad smiled. This had been his best day in a while.
“None whatsoever.” Nigel whipped the two of spades at him in a slashing motion and before Tad could even process what had just happened, he reflexively reached a hand up to scratch at the trickle running down his neck, unknowingly tearing open the razor-thin slice running across his carotid.
Blackstone stepped aside just as the bright red blood started coming out in spurts, painting the basement wall. The look on Tad’s face was a baffled question mark.
Nigel turned the two of clubs over, revealing a razor blade sticking out just past the laminated edge. “You’re not the only one who’s practiced in sleight of hand, mate.”
Tad dropped to his knees, clutching his neck, blood now squirting out between his fingers. Nigel bent down and whispered in Tad’s ear, “Just so you know, I was going to take it either way. That is my power.”
Nigel pocketed the money and grabbed the bag with the skull just as Tad fell against the séance table. He removed it slightly from the bag. Once again he started his guttural chant, causing the skull to light up. It grew a little brighter as Tad’s soul was torn from his body and drawn into its open mouth.
“Not really scared of the ghosties, but the Amazonians might have had something right.”