Chance
by Amber Averay
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I watched them from behind a veil of shadows, darkness gathered to conceal me from mortal sight. They were a typical human couple: bland, insipid, boring. Fragile flesh bags barely holding together a stew of bone and blood and muscle and tissue. It was a dubious cocktail, and yet my mouth watered as if I could already taste them.
Their rattling rust bucket of a car would have been the cause of envy thirty years ago, but now was likely the source of mockery. There was every chance it would die near the crossroads – my crossroads – and I had no doubt they would do as others in bleak situations did: in frustration, in anger, in a bout of aggression, they would call on me.
My sharp teeth gleamed when I smiled hungrily – perhaps my breath fluttered the veil, for the woman in the passenger seat glanced sharply to where I waited, eyes darting about as if searching for something she’d caught but a fleeting glimpse of.
The car choked, coughed, gurgled. Died. Rolling a few painful feet closer to the intersection before losing all momentum, the man swore and wrenched the handbrake on, threw the gear into ‘park’, and threw the door open. ‘I just got this back from the mechanic!’ he complained, kicking one of the tyres – because that always solved the problem! ‘Lying bastard said it was good to go.’
The woman sighed, sliding from the passenger seat, and looked up and down the road. ‘Guess we’d better start walking – unless you’ve got a jerry can in the boot?’
He shot her a look of disgust. I chuckled, hunching forward in a crouch and resting my spiked elbows on bony knees. If anyone made the decision, spoke the words, it would be him. He would feel guilty, angry, foolish – he would offer anything so not to have to walk hours to the nearest service station.
The woman began to walk, rubbing hands up and down her bare arms. A few steps, and she stopped – right in the middle of the crossroads. Now, usually there is a ritual people must follow to summon such as I, actions that must be taken, offerings made, words spoken. Yet this night I was willing to make an exception, for I was hungry, and bored, and these two were a turmoil of emotion and delicious aromas.
‘For God’s sake!’ the woman exploded, to my wicked delight. ‘How could you not check the tank? Now we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, and I am cold, tired, I am hungry, and I need to pee! You’ve done a great job, thank you very much.’ She turned her back to him again, shutting out his mutinous muttering, and said below her breath, ‘What I wouldn’t give for help right now!’
I began to chuckle, a deep rumbling growl that swelled until it was a thunderous bellowing cackle rebounding off the hills in the far distance. The humans looked at each other, looked about themselves, and I pinched the air before me with long fingers tapering into sharp claws, and lifted the curtain shielding my dimension from theirs. But by the time I stood before them – a mere heartbeat of time passing – I’d poured myself into a humanoid form. No need to scare unnecessarily – not until I was ready, in any case.
The woman startled, and the man – suddenly so chivalrous – edged her behind him. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded, his bravery a brittle facade beneath which delicious fear roiled. ‘Where did you come from?’
I waved a dismissive hand. ‘Here. There. Everywhere. I am of every place, and no place. But I can help you.’ I smiled, revealing gleaming sharp little teeth, and gnashed them at the woman. ‘What wouldn’t you give for help, my dear?’
She paled. ‘I… Well, I don’t…’
I circled them, leisurely, relaxed. It unnerved the humans more. ‘You see, I normally don’t appear for just anybody but I like you. You need help. And I can offer my services – in exchange for sufficient payment, of course.’
The man’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘You a hooker?’
I barked a delighted laugh. ‘Not I! But perhaps you, good man – you might have something you seek to sell in exchange for my assistance.’
‘We have nothing!’
‘Except this rusted piece of crap,’ the woman murmured.
I had no interest in their vehicle, and I assured them of such. Examining my pointed nails, I mused, ‘What you humans don’t realise is that every moment is decided by chance. Every decision you make is preceded by those that come before, and influence all you make beyond. Think carefully. Do. You. Want. My. Help?’
I saw the conflict in them, the desire for help warring with the fear of what was unknown. From apparently nowhere a gold coin flipped through my fingers, mesmerising them to speechlessness. ‘How about this? A game of chance – where one of us is always a winner. Fangs decide “yes”, hellfire “no”. Agree?’
Dumbly they nodded. I smiled my most charming smile, though it seemed to revolt them. No matter. I saw what would happen should they flip hellfire: I would magnanimously fill their tank with gas, and they would be on their way.
Of course, the coin landed fang side up. Red began to gleam in my eyes, veins of fire sparking and threading through encroaching ink, and slowly the humanoid coat I wore began to crumble and flake away. ‘I thank you for playing,’ I said, my voice filled with the screams of those who risked and lost before. ‘If you choose to run, I’ll gnaw on you slowly. If you stand still, I’ll still nibble slowly but I’ll numb you first. Another game of chance, if you will.
‘What will you choose?’
And I opened extending jaws packed with rows of wicked fangs, roaring with laughter as they each ran…
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