The Death Curse

Chapter ONE

Music: 'Big Guns' by Ruelle

Character Image: Sophia Boutella as Anais

The bell was in the centre cup.

Anais hid a smile as a weedy teenager with pockmarks and scruffy hair hovered his hand over the three cups. He rubbed his fingertips together, a weak attempt to hide the shake in his hand. No doubt he'd bartered a day's wage in a desperate ploy to double his earnings. Anais felt no sympathy for the guy. If he was dumb enough to bet his money on a fool's game, he'd be better off without it.

She caught Ludwig's small smirk, imperceptible to a stranger. But Anais had known the old man since she was a young girl and knew his tells, much to his chagrin. He stood hunched behind the rickety fold out table, hands clasped behind his back as he waited for the boy to choose. The boy avoided Ludwig's milky blue stare. Anais understood why. Despite being blind, Ludwig had an uncanny ability to look a person directly in the eyes.

A dirty nail tapped the cup on the left; two stuttering taps that betrayed the boy's nerves.

"Sorry, my boy, I'm afraid you're out of luck." Ludwig lifted the left cup, revealing coarse wood. The boy raked his hands through his unruly hair, breath rushing out in a despaired groan. His hand fell to his left pant pocket. Anais perked up at that. She clicked her tongue. Ludwig smiled.

"Perhaps you'd like another try," he deliberately stated, no question in his voice. The boy looked over Ludwig, eyes narrowing slightly. Anais coughed. Ludwig hunched lower, resting his weight on the table as he searched his pockets for a piece of cloth to smother his coughing. The boy's face softened, but he shook his head no, apologised and stepped back into the crowd. Anais was ready behind him, fingers deftly infiltrating his pocket. She came away with two silver coins: a renmi and one she did not recognise. A tourist then. Ludwig will be annoyed when he learns she did not lift it all, but she didn't want to be the reason a family didn't eat. She'd spent enough nights starving.

It was slim pickings today. The air had a cold bite to it and the clouds had blended together in a swirling mass of purple and grey. Anyone who wanted to stay dry would be inside or headed there. The worn leather of Anais' gloves did little to stave off the icy cold. She clenched and unclenched her stiffening fingers, willing heat into them. Stiff, slow fingers would get her hand hacked off if the wrong person caught her. She shut her eyes to hide the golden glint that rims her pupils whenever she Curses. There are very few cities that are kind to Cursers and Gorod I'da wasn't one of them. The last thing she needed was to incite a witch hunt.

A couple more hours and then they'd call it a night and split the earnings.

Anais pocketed the coins and melted into the crowd. She stopped behind a large man who reeked of raw meat, both hands resting on his lower back. Through the triangular gaps between his arms and his body Anais was able to keep an eye on Ludwig. He was shuffling the cups at a leisurely pace, the bell tinkling over the sound of biting wind. The wooden table creaked with the force of it, shifting beneath the cups. The bell flew out from the cup, the metallic ring piercing the icy air. Anais moved to retrieve it but paused.

A black leather shoe caught the bell, the sound abruptly cut. A tall man in a navy suit bent down to pick it up. His hands were hidden by black leather gloves. Anais moved from behind the butcher to get a better look at the man. You could tell a lot from a person's hands. A band of upraised leather glinted on his thumb. A ring maybe. The pads of his fingers were smooth and unworn; there wasn't so much as a loose thread. Anais ran her fingers along the frayed edges of her own gloves. There weren't many people in this part of the city who could afford more than one. His sleeves hid his wrists and dark tinted glasses masked his eyes. Anais felt lost. He was clearly wealthy but tourist or citizen she wasn't sure. His pale skin fit in well among the city natives, but something was off.