Free Forged in Fire: An Urban Fantasy (Moonlight Dragon Book 4) by Tricia Owens Page B

might be a monkey shifter like Melanie.
    He was dressed ridiculously in a Halloween street pimp costume. Purple flared pants over zebra print boots, a long purple jacket with fat lapels trimmed in gold lamé. He even had the classic pimp fedora on his head with a long white feather sticking out of the hatband. His skin was tea-stained and smooth, his black hair silky and curling leisurely over the shoulders of his jacket. Every feature on his face was thin and spare, like they were slivers leftover from when someone else's features were carved. My guess was he was of Middle Eastern descent, but his spiel was all Harlem.
    "You got an eagle eye, an eagle eye, I can tell," he said to his newest challenger as he began shuffling the cards around again. "I'm not getting one over on you, no siree. You're gonna catch me in the act." His hands were a blur as they switched the cards back and forth on the table. "Catch me putting this ace of spaces, this one here, keep your eye on it; it ain't going nowhere if you keep that eagle eye on it. Watchin' it? Of course you're watching it. Your girlfriend just left you and you didn't even turn and look."
    The small crowd laughed, including the girlfriend who hadn't, in fact, left.
    The hustler dropped the cards with a final flourish. "Now, my man, show me how good you are. You kept your eye on that ace that whole time, I could tell. Now show me the card."
    The man pointed at the middle card. "It's that one."
    The hustler slapped a hand over his chest. "You're sure? You're absolutely sure? Don't want to change your mind? I'll give you triple your money if you choose another card."
    The betting man hesitated for a beat, second-guessing himself, and then shook his head firmly. "No, it's that one. You're trying to trick me."
    The hustler winked. "Oh, I'd never do that, no siree."
    He reached down and flipped the middle card: queen of hearts.
    As the crowd roared, the hustler flipped the remaining two cards, revealing the ace of spaces on the right side of the queen. The hustler snatched up the twenty-dollar bill, pulled off his pimp hat and said, "Thank you kindly, good sir. Care to try again? Just a fluke, right? It's always a fluke." He tucked the money inside the hat and plopped it back on his head.
    While this was entertaining, I wasn't sure why we were here.
    "This isn't the guy you were talking about, is it?" I said to Vale out of the side of my mouth. Maybe he enjoyed street performers and had wanted to catch the show before we continued on.
    "You think this guy is just that good at sleight of hand?" he murmured back.
    "I think he's flat out cheating," Christian said.
    Vale stepped up to the table.
    I hadn't seen him move forward. Christian and I shared a quick, startled look, before swiftly sliding up on either side of him. Was he going to call the hustler out for using magick on non-magickals?
    "Ready to beat me, my man?" the hustler asked without looking up. "Ready to beat me at my own game, show me a thing or two, put me in my place, show me how I'm wrong?"
    "I'd like to play a different game." Vale's deep voice and unhurried speech patterns made the hustler's sound like it had come out of a chipmunk.
    The hustler's head shot up. He gave away his recognition of Vale only for an instant. After that he was smooth as silk.
    "What kind of game are you looking for, my man? I got all kinds of ways to take your money." He grinned whitely.
    "You also have a shell game."
    The hustler's smile widened. "That's my special set. I don't bring it out for just anyone. That's only for the VIPs. Are you a VIP? You got VIP money to wager?"
    Vale said, "I've got her."
    The hustler noticed me for the first time and his eyes rounded. Did he recognize me as Anne Moody, champion of the Oddsmakers, or as someone descended from dragons?
    "My man, now you're talking! VIP to the max, that's what you are. I knew you were an important man the moment you walked up. A shell game, you say? Why I've got the prettiest