The Venom In You

Part 2: Johnny Dicer

I parked up by a grocery shop near the alleyway where today's job would be. I hopped off my bike, pulled off my gloves but kept my visor down and helmet on, as always. Feminine charms were not going to help me with this job, and there was certainly no harm in being mistaken for a boy around here.

I walked down the dimly lit alleyway, grateful for my helmet covering up the usual stench of drains and the odd dead rat on the ground. Hoping my intel was correct, I carried on walking.

After scanning the rundown shops of the alley, I finally found a blue door leading to an unmarked bar at the end of the street, just as Miles had promised. It was easily missed unless you knew what you were looking for.

As I entered, I was hit with a smell that even the helmet couldn't mask. The putrid smell of vomit mixed with the smell of bitter ale made me gag. The bar didn't look any better than it smelt either, with floors stained black with muck and walls stained red with what I hoped was a bad paint job.

I looked around the room for my target, ignoring the regulars staring me down.

Bingo.

In the far corner of the room I recognised the one-eyed man as Johnny Dicer, a nickname coined by those desperate or stupid enough to gamble with him, and there were many desperate, stupid people in this town. Including me.

He was infamous around Old London for his dealing in forbidden goods and giving loans to those who can't repay them. The scarier rumours consisted of human trafficking for the Sorcerers, but sometimes ignorance is bliss.

As expected, he was playing poker with other well dressed, and well fed, men. These were the merchants of Old London, just like Dicer, they created a fortune from selling high in demand stock to the black markets that priced a pigeon at a month's wage. And they were my targets for today. After all, they wouldn't die from a couple less meals, in fact it might even do them some good.

I walked towards their table, keeping my posture as upright as possible and strides far more confident than usual. Miles had helped me prepare for this job, we'd planned this together.

But before I could reach the table, a figure stepped in front of me, blocking my way.

"Sorry mate, but if you wanna play you'll have to take off your helmet."

The figure stepped into the light escaping through the crack in the ceiling, revealing a boy not much older than myself. He spoke tenderly with little authority and his green eyes were kind, too kind for a place like this. His mousy hair was long and curly, making him look almost childlike. If it wasn't for his muscular arms and intimidating demeanor, I would've laughed at his attempt to be authoritative.

Johnny Dicer looked up from his hand of cards, his interest clearly peaked. As he looked at me, head to toe, a shiver ran down my spine.

"You don't look older than fifteen, my boy." I suddenly felt small as his eyes continued to hover over my body. "He doesn't seem like much of a threat now does he, Wynn?"

Wynn glanced at the floor. "No, sir. It's just you said-"

"I know what I said." Dicer snapped, finally peeling his eyes away from me. "But this young man has interested me. Let's bend the rules for one game, let the boy know what it's like to play a read game of cards. Right lads?"

The men round the table cheered with their beers in agreement, spilling it over themselves and each other.

Wynn looked at me awkwardly, hesitating for a minute before giving in.

"Yes, sir." He nodded and stepped away giving me a sheepish look. Not because he was embarrassed, but because he didn't want me to gamble with his boss. He'd seen too many people lose who couldn't pay up. I became increasingly aware that I must've looked like a skinny, penniless, young boy. Yet only the latter was false, so maybe he was right to be worried for me. But I wasn't worried, I knew what I was doing.