Free Witch World by Christopher Pike

it.”
    “There’s no point. You believe what you want to believe.”
    I thought I had figured out his secret but his quiet mystery disarmed me. My theory was all talk. I could feel him laughing at me inside.
    No, not laughing, but smiling. Yes, I knew he liked me.
    Russ looked down at the last cards he had dealt. I was showing a queen of diamonds and a king of jacks—twenty-one, another strong hand. Even against the queen of hearts he was showing. I told him that I’d stand. He turned his hole card over. He had a queen of diamonds, which gave him twenty-two, or what he called a red queen.
    He went to take my money. I had grown careless, winning the last few hands in a row, and had let my cash pile up on the table. I had just lost a grand, or so I thought. Then he explained that in red queen, when the dealer got a natural, the player had to fork over an additional 100 percent.
    “You didn’t explain that rule before,” I complained.
    “I figured you’d learn it as we played.” He had already taken the grand.
    “So I have to give you another thousand dollars?” I asked.
    “Yes.”
    “But we’re just playing for fun, right?”
    “No. I told you, red queen is a serious game. What you win or lose here is for real.”
    I snorted. “You have got to be joking!”
    He didn’t blink. “No.”
    I reluctantly peeled off ten hundreds and threw them at him. “Any other rules I should know about?”
    “Yes. This one is important. After the dealer gets a natural, the player must immediately try to win his or her money back.”
    “You’re saying on my next hand I have to bet two thousand dollars?”
    “Yes.”
    “That’s a crazy rule. What if I didn’t have it?”
    “Then you shouldn’t be playing red queen. The game’s older than blackjack. It has a rich tradition. It’s never played just for fun and no one is ever supposed to break the rules.”
    “That’s silly.”
    “It’s a fact. You have to bet me two thousand dollars right now.”
    I yawned loudly in his face. “Forget it, I’m tired. Let’s call it a night.”
    He nodded. “Fine. As soon as we complete this hand.”
    “Forget the hand. Let’s just quit.”
    “We can’t quit in the middle of this kind of situation. I’m the dealer, I just got twenty-two. As the player, you’re required to try to win your money back.”
    “I told you, I’m tired.”
    “And I told you, in red queen every bet counts.”
    “So the money I’ve just lost—you’re going to keep that?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then why did you give it to me in the first place?”
    “I gave it to you so you could afford your college tuition. But as a dealer, playing red queen, I’m required to keep the money and give it to . . . I mean, I just have to keep it. Those are the rules.”
    I acted bored. “Fine. Deal.”
    “Place your bet on the table first.”
    “All right.” I slapped down two grand. “Deal, Mr. Dealer.”
    He dealt. I got seventeen. He was showing a queen of diamonds.
    “I’m screwed,” I muttered.
    “Not necessarily. Remember, taking a hit at seventeen in this game is like hitting sixteen in blackjack.” He paused. “The book says you should do it.”
    “Barely.” I paused, convinced he knew what card was coming next. “Are you telling me to hit?”
    “I can’t give you any advice.”
    “You did before.”
    “Not in this game.”
    He was acting awfully weird, I thought.
    “Hit me,” I said impatiently.
    He hit me with a five—twenty-two. He turned over his hole card. He had a king of jacks—twenty-one. He had lost and I had won. I got my two grand back plus an extra two thousand.
    “Who do you have to give it to?” I asked as we began to clean up. The ice cream was melting and the cakes had begun to look sad. I hated to send them back, though. Then I remembered he had a full-size fridge.
    “What do you mean?” he asked.
    “You began to say you were required to give the money to someone. Then you stopped and said something