The black king explodes into tiny shards. I duck to avoid the flying bits of crystal. When I look again, Lord Loss's face is peppered with shiny splinters. Blood trickles from the cuts.
“You should take more pride in your appearance,” I tell him. “You'll never attract girls with an ugly mug like that.”
“I'll see you suffer for this,” he says hoarsely, red eyes bulging. “Win or lose, I'll find a way to pay you back for the insults you've dealt me tonight.”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” I smile. “It surely can't be an insult to show no interest in a game in which I have no interest.”
“Later,” Lord Loss hisses, head shaking violently. “Later!”
He turns to the board on my right — the one with the In-can pieces — and broods over it in menacing silence, collecting his thoughts.
He pushes me hard on the Incan board. Slow but steady adva
nces. Cutting off my avenues of attack. Forcing me back. Pegging me to my own half.
I take no notice of the mounting threat. When I can't move forward, I slide sideways, dancing out of the path of his soldiers, shrugging it off when he captures one of my rooks, laughing as my knights leap clear of the closing net.
Lord Loss's breath thickens the closer he gets to victory. Bloody sweat seeps from his pores. He twitches on his chair.
I ignore the danger I'm in. Keep one eye on Dervish as I shift a pawn forward. He's locked in close-quarters combat with the familiars, holding Artery away from his throat at arm's length, while Vein chews on his left leg. It looks serious, but I observe with cool disinterest.
Lord Loss grunts contentedly and takes my pawn. A path is opening up to my king. Another few moves and I'll have to sacrifice my queen.
“You're not laughing now,” Lord Loss notes sadistically.
“Only because my laughter seems to disturb you,” I smile sweetly, sending one of my knights to the right of the board, to cover my queen.
Lord Loss brings up a rook, blocking my queen's path of retreat. I move my knight again, lodging it between my queen and his rook. Grinning wickedly, he swiftly takes my knight with a pawn.
I wince — then wink. “I can't believe you fell for that one,” I chortle.
Picking up my queen, I slide her diagonally far up the board, through the gap left by the pawn he moved when capturing my knight — and knock Lord Loss's black queen clean off the table.
His breath stops. His mouth closes. His stomach rumbles.
“Checkmate in four moves,” I note drily. “Or is it three?”
In response, Lord Loss picks up his king and crushes it softly between his mangled fingers.
“Two-two,” he croaks, and turns to the board on my far left — the final board — the decider.
Lord Loss moves his pieces sluggishly. He plays with sad remoteness, face cast in dull misery, flinching every time I capture one of his pieces, handling the game to me without a real fight.
I feel a bubble of joy rising in my chest — and swiftly move to burst it. If I show any emotion now, he might seize upon it and revive with a flourish. Although it's difficult, I remain detached, moving my pieces instinctively, automatically, not dwelling upon thoughts of victory.
Gradually I rip his defenses to shreds. I check his king and he beats a sad retreat. For a couple of moves he threatens my queen, but then I drag her out of the way and check him again, with a rook. For a second time his king is forced to flee.
A short while later I trap him on the left side of the board.
He's caught between my queen, two knights, and a bishop. He starts to move his king. Pauses. Does a double-take. Sighs deeply and slowly tips the king over.
“Checkmate,” he intones morosely.
I blink — I hadn't seen it. “Are you sure?” I ask, frowning.
In response he pushes himself away from the table and floats out of his chair, face impassive.
Real time crashes over me. I'm hit by a wave of hot air. Sounds — Bill-E's howls, the snapping of Vein and Artery's teeth, Dervish's grunts. I spin. My uncle's on the floor, furiously wrestling with the demons. Blood everywhere. His left leg cut to ribbons. His right hand chewed off.