Roll Them Bones

Willy is a character from a couple of other short stories I've written. He's a modern day "hedge wizard". For you non-uber nerds, that's a self taught wizard who can perform basic spells, brew potions, and make scrolls. He lives in modern-day New Orleans and uses his abilities and most of all his tendency to be more lucky than prepared to help people. He's not quite a private detective like Harry Dresden. That would require a level of study and dedication he's not always capable of. But he has a good heart.

Willy Evans, “Sparkles” to some friends and even some enemies, rattled the dice in his hands. “Come on, baby. Eight the hard way.” They bounced against the wall and rolled to a stop, two pairs of fours. It was the most beautiful thing he’d seen since he looked into Brenda’s eyes that morning.  

There were groans and swears as he picked up his money. 

The man who ran this game, Fatso Banjamin, glared at him from under the silver trilby he wore. Fatso's wardrobe consisted of: the hat, brown brogans, a maroon sport coat with sleeves an inch too short, and green corduroy pants stained with grime and gods knew what else. His skin was an unhealthy shade of brown, stretched thin over a skeletal frame. 

“You gonna roll again, cher. Gonna give these men a chance to earn their scratch back.” Fatso’s accent was that weird sort of patois of English and French. Half sounded more like it came from Brooklyn than right here in N’awlins. The other came to the southern United States and stagnated 150 years ago. 

There was no question in Fatso’s voice, of that Willy was sure. That was okay. He came here on a case, and the money wasn’t his anyway. It would be nice to keep some, though. He counted out three hundred, most of what he had in his hand. “Alright, baby, no craps.” The bones rattled, and as they did, he reached out with his mystical sense. As before, he didn’t detect anything messing with the dice themselves. Everyone in the makeshift “pit” was human or near enough. Everyone, that was, except the pit boss.

Alice Robbins asked Willy to come here because it was the last place her brother Benny had been. Alice hired Willy to find him, or at least to uncover what happened to him. The cops wouldn’t care. Benny had always been something of a lowlife. He ran numbers, sold coke, and did anything else he could to make a living. 

Willy almost never let what a client or a missing person did to earn money interfere with his decision to do the work. On the contrary, the sleazier the person seemed to be to the average citizen, the more likely Willy was to get involved. That was, as long as there was something “special” about the disappearance. Fatso made this special. 

When boxcars came up, Willy had the good sense to make a sour face and run his fingers through his hair. “Guess tonight wasn’t my night after all.” 

Fatso laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle. “That’s alright, cher. You’ll have better luck next time. Pass them bones on.” 

Willy did as he was asked and spent the rest of the evening covering bets. He managed to make a little money by the time everything was said and done. The crowd broke up to start going their separate ways, but Willy cut Fatso off before the “man” could get too far.

“You don’t want to make me late for my next appointment, mon ami.” Fatso looked up into Willy’s eyes. 

Willy was just about average in every way except for the looks department. He had expected to be the one looking up. But Fatso had been sitting on a large crate all night. “This’ll take a few minutes and no more, I promise.” 

“You best make it worth my while, then.” Fatso’s eyes flicked down to where he’d seen Willy stash his cash.

With a sigh, Willy pulled out the money and counted out fifty. “There you go. That should buy me a few minutes.” 

“I’ll let you know when your time is up, cher.” The money disappeared into the maroon sports coat. 

“I need to find Benny Robbins.” 

Fatso laughed, loud and long. When he was done, he winked at Willy. “You been with that boy all night.” 

At first, Willy didn’t know what the man meant. Then he recalled the peculiar weight of the dice. They hadn’t been plastic. He’d been dealing with ghosts, vampires, and demons for the better part of his adult life. Still, he’d never rolled a dead man’s bones. 

“You’re quick to admit that to me.” Willy's eyes narrowed.

“You ain’t the po po. Ain’t nothing you can do to me. Hell, maybe I’m lying, cher. What you gonna do about that?” Fatso seemed to grow a few inches. 

Willy let his left hand slip into the pocket of his olive drab Army surplus jacket. The mix of salt and wood ash in there would make a powerful protection circle if he needed it. “You’re right, I’m not the police. There’s nothing I can do to you. I didn’t come here for anything more than information. His sister wants to know what happened to him. That’s all I want.” 

Fatso lost an inch of height, but none of the menace. “He owed me. I gave him three chances to pay up. Last time he rolled the bones against me, he lost. So, I called in his marker. You don’t welsh against Fatso.” He thumped his chest, the sound like a bass drum. 

“Is there anything left of him that I can take back to his family?” Willy wanted to fight, but if the man was dead, what would that accomplish?

Fatso laughed again. “You misunderstand me, cher. Benny ain’t dead. He’s in the bones. I got him for twenty-five years. Whatever’s left of him after that time? He can come out and live.” 

“How much for the dice?” The words were out of Willy’s mouth before he’d formed the will to speak them,

“Ahh, they aren’t for sale. But you can roll for them. If you lose, I’ll have two pairs of dice. If you win, I’ll give you Benny.”  

“Bet.” Willy held out his hand. The dice Fatso dropped into them were heavy and slightly greasy. He hadn’t noticed that before. Now that he knew what to look for, he could see there was a form of necromancy surrounding them. There was nothing to indicate that they were enchanted to change the outcome of a roll. 

“Oh, now, do you not trust old Fatso?” He laughed. “I can see you checking out my bones.” 

Unsurprised to be caught in the act, Willy turned to the nearest wall. He started rattling the dice. “I don’t trust anyone, Fatso. No offense intended.” He threw the cubes at the bricks, and they came up double fives. 

“Ten the hard way, Sparkles.” Fatso chuckled. “Can you do it?” 

Willy now knew that his reputation was no stranger to Fatso. There would be no influencing the dice on his side, not that he believed in cheating. He blew on the bones and shook them up again. They hit the wall and came up double deuces. Willy blew out the pent-up breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

“Tell you what, Sparkles. You walk away now, I give you five large. You don’t risk your body, and this nobody pays his twenty-five years. How’s that sound?”

The money sounded nice. He needed to try to free this man, though. “Sounds like you’re scared you’re going to lose.” He grabbed the dice and wished his sister were there to blow on them for luck. Of course, as a cop, she’d probably arrest them both. He rattled them a bit longer than he usually did and said a brief prayer to Gaia. 

They bounced against the wall, and for a millisecond, he thought they’d come up a six and a four. Instead, he saw two glorious fives looking up at him. “Hot damn. Thank you, Earth Mother.” 

The air around Fatso flashed for just a second. The illusion of skin disappeared, revealing the yellowed bone of Fatso's true body. His teeth chattered in anger as the dice disappeared. “You are one lucky son of a bitch, Sparkles.”

Willy held out his hand, and Fatso shook it, brown skin having returned to cover old bones. “Maybe we’ll play again sometime. As for Benny?” 

“He’ll wake up in his own bed when the sun comes up. I swear it by my true name.” Having said that, Fatso turned in place three times and disappeared in a puff of smoke. 

Willy breathed a sigh of relief and counted himself lucky. In a few hours, he’d have a happy client. He also had seventy-five bucks in his pocket. He wouldn’t be gambling with anything any time soon, not love nor money. And this was one story Brenda would never hear.