It turned out that once they were unable to cheat, these six players weren’t all that impressive. Their ability to calculate odds and bluff were clearly inferior without knowing what the cards actually were, and their bets and calls were badly made.

They did try Marking the cards more; I calmly dealt the Markers back cards they definitely hadn’t Marked, but were showing they had, then burned the whole deck and started a new one.

Fashionista ended up walking off with the pot after only ninety minutes of play, as bad betting practices and their own agitated mental states led to some inappropriate and devastating gambles that did not pay off.

The others left as soon as they were out of money, too embarrassed to remain after I saw through what they were doing, and the watching crowd figured it out, too.

Fashionista passed me twenty grand by way of a tip, smirking. Of the six, she’d shown the best awareness of odds and betting discipline as the game went on, withdrawing early or betting late with pressure as was appropriate. “Nice table, hon. I’ll play at it again, if you can bring in more suckers.”

“I leave the Resort to that, but thank you, Miss Fortuna,” I replied cordially, sending a burning stream of cards into the trash.

She laughed and sauntered out, clearly happy with her evening’s work.

Mr. Ligganto came up next to me, an impressed look on his face. “That was very well done. The bosses were very impressed with your conduct and discretion, making it clear they were cheaters without calling names.” He cleared his throat slightly. “As a security professional, can you clue me in?”

“Sharver, the playboy, is a master of sleight of hand, as you saw, and a minor spellcaster. He makes copy cards as he palms originals, which vanish when they enter the deck. He then subs them for his down cards as needed.

“Fortuna is the mildest of the lot. She has an oil on her hands which marks any cards handled by her, and by her position on them indicates values. Slow but subtle, if the cards are kept. Swapping the deck shuts her down, but she’s the best of the bunch in actual clean card play, as you saw.

“Braxton uses microbots to try to cheat, planting them in front of the other players to look at their down cards, and attempting to mark the deck with them by impressing them into his cards. The electricity discharge and swapping decks shut him down.

“Calligari uses lenses he bought from The Monocle to look through the down cards and see what others have. You can either treat the cards to be impervious or make him lose his glasses... or the contact lenses he’ll doubtless replace them with.

“Menkova there is a psi, and she Timesights to see what is being dealt out. No defense there except Divination Wards.

“Williams is also a psi, but uses some pretty subtle Marking. Instead of tracking the cards he’s been dealt, he releases his Focus and gets an instant picture of every card and its position in the deck. By doing so just before the next deal, he naturally knows what everyone has.

“If you go into his background, I’ll bet he’s a renegade Russian, too.”

Ligganto shook his head. “How’d you stop Menkova, then? We don’t have no Wards up or nothing here.”

“When I Seal the deck, it creates a link to every other deck of cards like it in existence. Her nose popped as she tried to predict the outcome of probably hundreds of thousands of other decks of cards at the same time as this one, and couldn’t handle it.

“She didn’t try a second time, and she was dealing with a splitting headache the rest of the game. It’s why she lost so quickly.” Cocktail had been the first to lose and make her exit, trying not to clutch her forehead as she walked off, not bothering to watch the rest of the match.

“Damn.” Ligganto stared at me, impressed. “You really can deal for some major players, can’t you?”

“Yes. But can the Resort handle them?” I asked archly in return, stepping away from the table toward Mr. Hill, who had been looming quietly in a corner of the room, quite ready to step in if any of the fakers made a scene.

I handed him half the tip, and he palmed the chips and pocketed them for reimbursement on our way out. “Notice anything out of place?” I asked him, holding my case of cards. I’d had to purge it of tracking bugs and Marks, but Divs wouldn’t follow it. I’d put the same resonating Ward on it that I had the cards, and anyone trying to track it was going to be tracking every single case like it on the planet, and get an instant nosebleed, graduating to bursting eyes and ears if they kept it up.

And that was me being polite. One of the guys who’d Marked the case had his hair catch on fire, and had run out screaming and beating his head, trying to douse it.

“Some wise guys from the other casinos, a few Maggia, and spotters hired by someone,” he replied. “We should be getting offers for more private games pretty quick, I’m thinking.” He rumbled deep in his chest, thinking pleasantly about the steady income. When you don’t sleep, you have a lot of time to fill, and staying busy meant affording better food.

Nobody had been stupid enough to Mark him. I could imagine the fleshy pancake they’d find not much later if they did. Rep sells. Anyway, they could probably find out where he was staying with a phone call. He was someone who stayed in contact with certain people, and could be reached for business.

“And that other money-making business?”

“Irish have no dealings with vamps or werewolves. They’ve been warned harshly about interfering in Maggia business in the past by vamps. Paying bounties under the table isn’t out of the question, but they’d like one of their own in on it.”

“Grab The Mick.” He glanced down at me. “He’s a Driver. You’re gonna need one, and he’s gonna need the action. Your Teleport isn’t fast enough to do an evac for a team with all the gear needed. You can build up a Teleport with enough time driving and if he gets to dirt to carry you away, but it will require practice.”

“Not a bad idea,” he agreed. “That Castle guy is a real hardcase. He becomes Forsaken, he’s gonna be a real bulldog.”

“Pretty much the idea.” I narrowed my eyes as we headed downstairs.

“What’s up?”

“Four vampires ahead of us.”

“Oh, the invites coming already.” That it was just like my first dealing job didn’t escape either of us.

He took the lead coming off the stairs and opening the door. Three men and a woman, all in nice clothes, all pale of skin and slightly flushed from recent feeding, and all quite dead were waiting for us with polite smiles... which faltered a little bit when The Mountain swept his cool eyes over them with no fear whatsoever.

“Bloodsuckers,” he pronounced calmly. “Well, I suppose they let in anyone who pays. What do you want?” he asked stonily.

“We would like to set up a private game with The Dealer, Mr. Mountain,” the woman replied, stepping forward. She was a dark-haired looker, poised, graceful, and doubtless much older than she appeared. “We understand you’ve been putting out word of your availability?” she inquired politely.

“I’m not running security in a vampire hotspot,” he replied bluntly. “The Resort or any of the casinos will be happy to provide a neutral location for you all to meet in, and respect your privacy while they do it. Setting up Wards on the area will cost extra, of course.”

She paused, glancing at me, but I just waited politely to the side and behind him, saying nothing. “The venue we choose will also be a neutral location, Mr. Mountain,” she assured him soothingly.

“Neutral to vampires. Not neutral to us,” he replied in the same unmoved, level voice. “We’d be happy to host a game here for your masters. There’s a bit of history of accidents happening when we cater to vampires wanting too much privacy.”

She looked a bit unsettled at that. “And does The Dealer agree?” she asked, looking at me.

I flicked up a card between my fingers, and in the same gesture, threw it.

The white flame buried itself between the eyes of one of her subordinates. The handsome blond fellow gaped at the Ace of Spades driven into his skull, and then it popped.

The Burst was small, only a foot in radius, but his head disappeared with the intensity of the fire. The burning arc in his chest was flaring with white flames as his corpse stumbled back, hit the wall, and slumped to the floor.

“The Dealer likes to keep her thoughts her own, and not be mindfucked by a vampire, thank you for your interest,” I replied smoothly. The white flames were rapidly spreading down the vampire’s body, which was dissolving into mist and being devoured as it did. If you looked hard, you could see something screaming silently in the mists as the nice suit fell in on itself and the vampire was consumed.

I flicked up three more Cards between my fingers, all burning white, all spades. “Would any of you others care to attempt to Enthrall me?” I inquired calmly, looking back and forth between them all. “Perhaps you’d instead like to try The Mountain. What a fine, wonderful thug he’d make for you...”

Mr. Hill had a really nice thin smile. The vampires all retreated a step in the otherwise empty corridor. Someone with magnapsium in his skull wasn’t going to be Enthralled by anything.

The woman gestured as the last of the mist dissipated, consumed by vivus and creating a white spot on the floor and wall. It would dissipate come the morning. The brawnier of the two male vamps quickly moved to roll up the clothing and shoes with the ease and practice of someone who had done such things before.

“Your competency and preferences are noted,” the woman said smoothly, giving me a more assessing glance. “We can contact the Resort here to set up a reasonable time?”

“We’ve already set up days and scheduled out the next three months. You need only pick one and indicate the level of accommodations and privacy you’d like, and the Resort will indicate if they can meet them,” Mr. Hill answered in the bored tones of someone reciting a routine sales pitch for the umpteenth time.

Supplying fresh blood would even be possible, for enough money. Plenty of people willing to sell their blood for cash.

“Of course. I look forward to seeing you again.” She bowed her head to us both, and unhurriedly turned around and walked away, quickly flanked by her remaining two attendants.

Mr. Hill admired her walk and the fine view from behind for a moment. “How old?” he asked, just as the door behind us opened, and Ligganto came out in time to see the vampires take the access door out into the public hall.

“A hundred and twenty, thirty,” I guessed after reading her Aura. “Probably a lieutenant to her Master.”

“You got any problems setting up a room for the Master Vampires of the New York area?” Mr. Hill asked Ligganto calmly, glancing down at him, and waved at me. “She can handle the Wardwork, if required. The snacks might be a bit unusual...”

I glanced at him, and he indicated I should talk. “And find out their preferences. Master Vampires are very conservative and get twitchy about the fine points. Don’t be at all afraid to get special needs from the vampires themselves, although you’ll score a lot of points if you don’t need to. If there’s vampire clubs around, calling them up ahead of time for some information might be a really good idea.”

“Tell Hospitality to work their asses off, in other words. Not being able to cater to them is a sign of weakness, eh?” He looked personally affronted at the idea.

“And draw a line, and do not step over it, whatever they offer. They’re vamps... they’ll push you for everything, take it, and then walk away, laughing under their breath. The more you stop in place, the more they’ll actually respect you. They have no limits on their decadence, in the end.”

“Noted. We’ll keep it as clean as the dealing room. If they want an orgy of blood, they can go elsewhere...”