Philip Gyrich returned to the Poker room with a small mani folder he got from the Fedex Kinkos in the Venetian, and headed over to Caleb, still sitting with Scott, who was giving him the quick notes on vampire hunting lore.

  "Scott, you want to be cool," said Caleb, as Philip approached.

  "Hey Caleb," said Philip, sitting down next to him. "Who's your friend?"

  "He's... not a friend, technically," said Caleb.

  "What?" said Philip, kind of shocked. "I thought you and Angelina were going to get back together for sure. Unless, you know, you have... and she's fine with you exploring your..."

  "What, no! I keep telling people I'm..."

  Scott immediately seized the opportunity to pnt a big ol' kiss on Caleb's lips.

  From across the room, Angelina saw and her eyes went wide, more surprised and freaked out than angry or jealous. She was so flustered she lost track of the action and the dealer had to remind her it was her turn to act.

  "Should I come back ter?" said Philip.

  Caleb pushed Scott away. "What the hell was that?" he growled.

  "I've got money on the game, remember. And if I can tilt Angelina a bit, it improves Diane's chances."

  "You utter bastard!" Caleb said.

  "So... you didn't like it?" teased Scott.

  Caleb shook his head. "I should kill you."

  Scott smiled. "Not if I kill you first!"

  "I don't know what kind of psychosexual thing you two have going on here, but I don't want any part of it," said Philip.

  Philip always was one of the smartest people Caleb knew.

  "I'm just going to leave these with you. They're printouts of the sketch. I made enough copies so that we could pass them around."

  "Thanks, Phil."

  "I’ll leave you two to...whatever this is," said Phil, who immediately extracted himself from the situation.

  Silence between the two mortal frenemies.

  "You didn't answer me," said Scott.

  "Didn't answer you about what?" said Caleb.

  "If you liked it. Genuine curiosity. You set off my gaydar. Just a little."

  "Are you telling me you have another magic trinket, only it detects gay?"

  "That'd be something, wouldn't it? 'Queer Eye for the Strigoi Guy,'" Scott mused.

  "Stay right here," said Caleb, as he headed over to the poker table. He politely waited until the action in the hand was complete, and tapped Angelina on the shoulder.

  "Caleb, I see you've been--"

  Caleb scooped Angelina into his arms, straight out of her seat. Before she could react, his lips crashed into hers -- deep, hungry, certain. Her fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of Tom's shirt, gripping tight, like she might melt if she let go.

  The poker room erupted. Cheers, whistles, appuse. Someone even smacked the table.

  But for a few stolen seconds, it was just them. The way he tasted faintly of copper and something sweeter underneath, the way his lips pressed against hers with just enough hunger to make her heart trip over itself.

  Finally -- finally -- he pulled away, but not completely. He set her back down with excruciating slowness, his hands lingering at her waist, his forehead resting against hers.

  “For luck,” he whispered.

  Angelina exhaled shakily. “Jesus.”

  "Things are getting weird with my... project," he said, softly.

  "I'll say. Why are you dressed like Mad Tom?" asked Angelina. "And why do you smell like chlorine?"

  "Don't worry about that. I have it under control. Well, sort of under control. Just focus on the game, I'll fill you in ter."

  "What was that thing with Sco--?" Angelina started to ask, but the dealer cleared his throat.

  "Sorry, Ma'am, but we do have a live game," he said.

  Caleb kissed Angelina directly on the forehead, and then headed back over to Scott to talk shop.

  "Hey Angelina," said Diana, folding the crummy hand she had just been dealt. "Where can I get me one of those?"

  "Sorry, Diana," said Angelina. "I think he's one-of-a-kind."

  As Caleb walked back to Scott, he noticed him already flipping through the file.

  "That's a bit rude, don't you think?" said Caleb. "Going through my stuff?"

  Scott didn’t even look up. "I tried to kill you two hours ago. If you want my help, you're gonna have to be okay with ‘rude.’ This him?"

  "That’s him."

  "Where’d you get this?"

  "My sire’s been hunting him for centuries, managed to dig up an old sketch. It’s... kind of how I ended up a vampire. He turned me to get me out of Renfield’s control."

  Scott whistled low. "Damn. Who’s your sire?"

  Caleb chuckled. "Oh, Scott, you are not ready for that little piece of information. Let’s just say I’ve got a pedigree and leave it at that."

  Scott gave him a long look but let it slide. "Alright, so when we find this guy, are we doing the whole buddy-cop thing, or...?"

  Caleb snorted. "Oh, sure. So that right after, you can hit me with your sudden but inevitable betrayal?"

  Scott threw up his hands. "No!" Then, after a beat: "...Okay, yes. But I figured you'd be a sport about it! I mean, you could betray me, too. No monopoly on treachery here."

  Caleb sighed. "Scott, when I say I don’t want to kill people, I mean it. Self-defense? Fine. But if one of us screws the other over, someone dies. And whatever else we disagree on, we both want as few bodies as possible. Right?"

  Scott hesitated, then exhaled. "Yeah. Alright. Fair point."

  Caleb sighed.

  "And to answer your question-- yes."

  Scott blinked. “What question?”

  “I did feel a little something when you kissed me. But I love Angelina. That’s the difference. Besides, you can kiss a guy and feel something, but that doesn’t automatically make you bisexual, right?”

  Scott smirked. “Knew it. My gaydar never fails.”

  Caleb rolled his eyes. “Alright, how about this-- we may never be allies, but we can do a little quid pro quo.”

  Scott raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

  “I have a distant cousin, Joshua. Human. He’s in Albuquerque right now-- far enough that Renfield can’t control him. But once Renfield’s gone, he can come back to Vegas. So here’s my offer: We take down Renfield, you don’t betray me, neither of us dies, and I set you up with him.”

  Scott scoffed. “You think I’d throw away my principles for a date?”

  Caleb shrugged. "He's a total hunk. I'd show you a picture, but my phone is in my other pants. And probably waterlogged."

  Scott squinted at him. "So, a hot date."

  Caleb leaned in. “Also, he’s a natural vampire hunter. Managed to take me down without magic trinkets. I never had the upper hand on him.”

  Scott’s smirk faltered. “That… is impressive.”

  “And since he already knows about vampires, you can talk shop. No secrets.”

  Scott tapped his chin. “Mutual interests…”

  Caleb grinned. “He’s a chef.”

  Scott hesitated.

  “An Italian chef.”

  Scott’s expression wavered.

  “And he works out.”

  Caleb had no idea if that st part was true, but he really needed to sell this.

  Scott exhaled through his nose. “Fine. You win. I’m on your team. No sudden betrayals.” He paused. “Unless you go on a killing spree or something and I have to put you down.”

  “Fair.”

  A beat of silence.

  Then Caleb muttered, “Damn.”

  Scott looked over. “What?”

  “I should’ve asked for poker coaching as part of the deal.”

  Scott chuckled. “Well, there’s your first lesson. Money you don’t win, but could have, is the same as money you lose.”

  They sat in silence, watching the tournament. While they had talked, two more pyers had busted out. The final table was down to six.

  And then it was down to five.

  And then four.

  And then three.

  ---

  Diana, Angelina, and a third pyer - the one who had pyed the 6-5 of diamonds and quadrupled up, were still in it when the blinds went up.

  It was the third pyer, a 400-pound, middle aged man with a Boston accent who referred to himself as "Texas Slim," who called to ask the dealer and tournament director to stop the action.

  "What?" asked Diane.

  "Ladies, I, er, I'd like to talk about a possible deal. Blinds are wicked high, right? Anyone's game at this point. Lotta money on the line. Maybe we just do an ICM chop?"

  "I'm being staked," said Diana.

  "Me too," said Angelina. "If we do a deal, Scott and Greg would have to be fine with it too."

  "Jesus," said Texas Slim. "Please don't tell me you mean that Scott," he said, pointing to Scott 'Baby-Shark' Lupescu, "and that Greg," pointing to Greg 'Jurassic Dork' Reynolds.

  The women shrugged.

  "How the hell did I make it this fah in the tournament!?" he excimed. "You two are wicked good!"

  "You cracked my aces," said Diane and Angelina, simultaneously, leading both to giggle. "Jinx!" Diana said.

  Diana and Angelina started stacking their chips.

  "Seven-twenty," said Angelina.

  "Eight-eighty," said Diana.

  "Sixty-foah," said Slim. "Real close."

  Diana took out her phone and brought up the ICM chip calcutor app, and waved Scott over. Angelina waved Greg over.

  "Uh oh," said Scott, to Caleb, getting up. "I think they're going to make a deal."

  "What kind of deal?" asked Caleb. He followed Scott to the table, because he wasn't going to be letting Scott go alone anywhere near Angelina.

  Slim nodded to the three men, though he was a bit confused why Caleb was there.

  "Greg," said Angelina. "Texas Slim here proposed an ICM chop. I think it's a fair deal but I'm not going to take a deal without your approval, since it's your money."

  "Same," said Diana, to Scott.

  "Hold on, stop this, wait just a second! This isn't right." said Caleb. Everyone at the table looked at him.

  "You're telling me... this guy is named 'Texas Slim'?"

  "What's your name, sir?" said Texas Slim.

  "Caleb Tryst."

  Dead silence at the table.

  "Okay, yeah, I have no ground to stand on here," said Caleb.

  "So, this deal. I get it. Makes sense. But what if we keep, I dunno, three grand in the pot for the winner? Keep things spicy?" suggested Greg.

  "Spicy?" said Scott.

  "Yeah, so it's not just a handshake and a chop. Gotta let 'em battle a little, right?" said Greg.

  "Yeah, I like that," said Diane. "And, you know, I gotta know if I can beat you. Angelina, you're good."

  "You're good!" said Angelina.

  "I'm lucky," said Slim. "Anyway, I'm fine with that. Everyone in agreement?"

  The dies nodded.

  "Okay then. Keep back 3000 for the winner, and we'll have the tournament director do an official count," said Slim.

  ---

  After they had calcuted their earnings, py resumed, and Scott, Caleb, and Greg headed back to Angelina's cheering section.

  "What just happened?" asked Helen. "Some sort of problem?"

  "No problem," said Greg. "Angelina just made a deal, the three of them are going to split most of the prize money and py for the rest. It was a good deal. Oh, Helen, this is Scott Lupescu, a poker-pying friend of mine."

  "Oh," said Helen. "Can they do that?"

  "Happens all the time," said Scott. "By the way, you're Caleb's mother?"

  "Grandmother!" said Caleb, before Helen could answer.

  "Yes, I'm his grandmother," said Helen. "But I pretty much raised him from birth."

  "Ah, you look too young to be Caleb's grandmother," Scott said, kissing Helen's hand.

  "Oh, you're just out to kiss everyone in our family today, aren't you, Scott?" teased Helen.

  "Yeah, what was up with that?" asked Greg.

  "Oh, I was just helping Caleb get over his sexual repression. He won't admit he's bi."

  Helen patted Scott on the back of his hand, eyes twinkling. "You're doing the lord's work."

  "Jesus Christ, Mom."

  "Grandmom," Scott pyfully chided, winking at Caleb.

  Caleb gred at him, his teeth clenched. He really hated that Canadian.

  ---

  Back at the table, the battle between the three pyers had reached a boiling point. The chip lead swung back and forth -- Diane, then Angelina, then Slim -- each pyer jockeying for position, trying to outst the other. It was anyone's game, and every move carried weight.

  Then, the moment of reckoning came. Diane, looking determined, shoved all-in with pocket queens, a solid hand. Angelina, cool as ever, called with ace-king off-suit.

  The flop was a tense wait, but it was the turn that sealed Diane’s fate-- a king. The table went quiet as Angelina’s hand pulled ahead, and with the river failing to improve Diane's hand, the double-up was complete. Diane's face tightened, but she quickly gathered her chips and shifted into survival mode.

  A few hands ter, Slim knocked her out with a cold-blooded ace-five against her jack-seven. The board ran out clean, and neither hand improved. Diane gave a quick nod, and in an instant, she was gone -- leaving only Slim and Angelina in the final showdown.

  Now, it was heads-up. Angelina, still riding the high of her lucky break, had the chip lead. Slim, though, was the kind of pyer who thrived under pressure.

  ---

  Diana headed over to Scott, who gave her a high five and a hug. She returned the Eye of Strigoi to him, and he pced it back around his neck.

  And Angelina's cheering section, though they were here for Angelina, congratuted her as well on a game well pyed.

  One member of Angelina's cheering section, in particur, was very interested indeed.

  "Hi," said the diminutive Cardi, tightly clutching her alpaca. "You're really good at math," she said, licking her lips. "Would you like to maybe head somewhere private, where we could... maybe do integration by parts?"

  Caleb quickly headed over to prevent another fiasco. "Ah, no, Cardi, I'm pretty sure Diane is straight."

  "So's a line on a Cartesian pne," said Cardi, "until you apply a Fourier transform. Then it starts curving in all sorts of directions," she said, looking at Diana, wondering if Canadian blood tasted of Timbits. "There's this great pce I know in the Arts District..."

  "Bad idea, Cardi."

  She pouted.

  "Just... trust me on this one," said Caleb, Scott gring over his shoulder.

  "Why is it a bad idea?" asked Diane, leaning in a little, intrigued. "I might actually want to find my limits tonight," she said, winking at Cardi.

  Cardi’s eyes gleamed. She was hungry, and it had nothing to do with math.

  Caleb groaned. This wasn’t going well.

  He stepped in between them, now fully in panic mode. "Diane, don’t." He turned to Cardi, voice low but urgent. "If you do this, Scott will come after you. You don’t want that. Trust me."

  Scott, sensing Caleb’s tone and seeing the situation unfold, took a subtle step forward, his eyes narrowing.

  Cardi paused, eyes flicking to Scott, but her smile remained. "Oh, Scott will come after me? How... charming. He's cute too... You know, a triangle really is the most stable structure..."

  Caleb’s heart sank. "Cardi, this isn’t a joke." He gnced back at Scott, who looked like he was about five seconds away from stepping in. "Please," Caleb pleaded, quietly. "Besides, it's against the guidelines."

  "I was gonna take her to the Arts District first... that makes it all good, right?" Cardi pleaded.

  "But you found her on the Strip."

  Cardi whimpered, then sighed in resignation. "But she's a genius."

  "I know, Cardi. I know," he said, patting her on the back. "But the guidelines keep us safe."

  Cardi turned back to Diane. "I'm so sorry. Something's come up. But... let me give you my number? Maybe... some other night?"

  "Sure," said Diane. "Looking forward to it. I have to go collect my payment anyway, and pay Scott his share."

  Scott sidled up to Caleb, whispering in his ear. "This is why I do what I do. You, Cardi, Angelina, everyone here, you're all dangerous, and you know it. I'll help you take down Renfield. But that's where it ends. After that, we're going to have words."

  "Can't say I'm looking forward to it," said Caleb.

  "If it makes you feel better, neither am I," said Scott. "If I didn't hate you, I'd kinda like you."

  "Same."

  "I gotta go. You have what you need, and you know how to reach me. Best of luck for Angelina in the tournament. Genuinely."

  "She did beat Diane."

  "Diane had more chips when the deal was struck. That makes her the winner."

  "But Diana went out third, Angelina's still in it."

  "True. But Diana's still better," said Scott, walking off, having the st word.

  ---

  At this point, Angelina sighed. The hard part was over. One person left. One person that she could easily read. Just her and Slim. She could practically taste first pce.

  Then, Slim shoved all of his chips in.

  Angelina blinked. "You didn't even look at your cards!" she said.

  "Yeah, I didn't," Slim grinned. "You're really, really wicked good at hand reading. So I figure my best bet to win this thing is just to rely on luck and shove all-in every hand."

  Angelina looked down at her own cards. King-Queen offsuit.

  She shrugged. Against a random hand, it was an easy call.

  "I call."

  They flipped over their cards. Slim had J-6 offsuit. Angelina was a 68% favorite.

  The flop came down: 6, 10, 2.

  A six. Of course. Slim had hit middle pair. And Angelina? She didn't improve. Slim was now the chip leader. Frustrating, but she knew she'd bounce back.

  She looked at her next hand: pocket nines. A monster in heads-up py. She min-raised.

  "All in," Slim said, once again not bothering to look at his cards.

  Angelina had no choice. She had to call. Slim flipped over king-jack offsuit. It was a race.

  The flop came down: 10, 9, 2. Rainbow. Boom. She’d flopped a set of nines. Mentally, she was doing cartwheels. She was in a great spot.

  The turn: Six of clubs. A complete brick.

  And the river... Queen of hearts.

  And just like that, the dealer shipped the chips over to Slim, who had made a K-Q-J-T-9 straight.

  So sick.

  "Congratutions, Slim," said Angelina, shaking his hand. Slim returned the gesture.

  "You pyed very well. I got lucky."

  She gnced back at Caleb and her cheering section. "I don't know. I think I got pretty lucky myself," she said, then turned back to Slim. "Got any pns for the money?"

  Slim grinned. "I hadn't thought about it. Maybe I’ll head to Mexico for some medical tourism. Get an operation I’ve been putting off."

  "Oh? What kind of operation?"

  Slim smirked. "I'm gonna get a sex change. By the time you see me next, I won’t be ‘Texas Slim,’ I’ll be ‘Virginia Skinnibytch.’"

  "What?"

  "Just pulling your leg. Gastric bypass," Slim said with a wink.

  "Slim, you’re alright," Angelina said with a chuckle.

  "See you at the next one," Slim said, backing away.

  "We’ll see," Angelina said, as Slim walked off.

  And just like that, it was over. Angelina headed toward her friends, greeted by a parade of hugs, handshakes, and backpats. Her extended family. The pce where she belonged.

  And Caleb? Well, Caleb had a lot to expin-- but that could wait. First, she had to cash out, pay Greg his share, take home 11,500 in cash, and head home with Caleb to break some goddamn furniture.

  ***

  "Hold still," said Pantessa, ter that night.

  "I am holding still," said Stelian. "You sure you know how to do this?"

  "Yeah, I used to cut my friends hair all the time," she said, "though the scissors weren't usually this dull."

  "Yeah, I don’t think silver is meant to be all that sharp," said Stelian. "It’s mostly for decoration. But hey, it’s worth a shot. I don’t think you can make my hair worse, and even if you do, chances are it’ll just revert to normal by morning."

  "We'll see. Okay, I'm done. Take a look in the mirror, tell me what you think."

  Stelian stepped into the bathroom, his steps slow with anticipation. He looked in the mirror above the sink. His overgrown bangs were no longer overgrown. His hair was parted neatly, the mullet gone. It wasn’t fancy, just a pin old haircut, but it was even. It was combed. It was… not ugly.

  And for the first time in a long time, he liked what he saw.

  His heart lifted at the sight, a sense of recognition he hadn’t felt in ages-- a feeling of being closer to who he was, of his outer self finally reflecting something more aligned with how he felt inside.

  "Tess, you’re amazing!" he excimed.

  "I know," she smiled smugly.

  "Even if it’s just for tonight, this is great. We should take some pictures!"

  "Already beat you to it." Pantessa had her phone out, snapping a shot. "I remember someone telling me I had an eye for composition."

  ***

  By the time that Trey and Jack got back to South Point, they were a little exhausted, and more than a bit terrified by the fact that they had to get a ride from Mad Tom in the Santa Vanna. As disturbing a chauffer as Mad Tom was most nights, it was nothing compared to a half naked Mad Tom driving in nothing but his long johns.

  When they got back to South Point, they decided to just rex a bit and py some video games at the Sugarloaf Entertainment Arcade. They were both fans of Time Crisis 5, and sometimes, you just needed to unwind.

  By this time of night, it was mostly free of people - it was mostly to have a pce to stash kids while the parents gambled. It was rare -- but not unheard of -- to see a kid or two pying around unsupervised at two or three a.m.

  "That was my guy, Jack," said Trey, quickly releasing the pedal to make the character duck behind cover.

  "Sorry," said Jack. "Panicked."

  The misstep cost them dearly in the game, as their timing was off, and they quickly ran out of lives. But it was a fun diversion.

  "Good game, man." said Trey.

  "You too," said Jack. "Wait... what's--"

  Jack looked behind Trey's shoulder only to find that a small, unattended child had found their copy of the Renfield sketch that Philip had given them, and had started to draw a pair of funny gsses on it in crayon.

  "Hey, hey!" Jack said. "That's not yours!"

  The small child, not accustomed to being accountable for his actions, decided to run off, abandoning the sketch and his set of badly used crayons.

  Jack shook his head. "Seriously, why are kids always showing up at the worst--" He stopped mid-sentence, staring at the sketch. "Wait... why does that actually look kinda--"

  And then, Trey noticed something. Something disturbing. He grabbed the blue crayon from the ground, and pced the sketch on one of the gss of one of the redemption machines -- he needed a ft surface.

  "Trey?" asked Jack.

  Trey shushed him. His hands moved on their own, tracing the gsses, expanding them. Something about it felt right, like he’d seen this face a thousand times before. But he hadn’t. Had he? Made them bigger. Grander. Covering a rger area of the face. He added muttonchops on the side. And then he started on the hair. Instead of the stringy white hair of a middle aged man, he drew a perfectly coiffed pompadour.

  He added a few rhinestones on the suit. The hand holding the crayon started to shake. He took a step back, staring at what he’d drawn.

  "No," he whispered. "No fucking way."

  But there it was. Renfield’s face, grinning back at him.

  All that was missing was the lip curl.

  ***

  Philip Gyrich was in the passenger seat of Elvis's car, having taken Elvis's offer of driving him home that night to Denny's.

  "Hell of a game," said Philip. "Angelina must be thrilled. Second pce, in a big tournament like that, man."

  "Well, from what I heard, you’ve done a whole lotta work-- your suit, your research, all that jazz," Elvis said with a wink. "I gotta tell ya, Caleb wouldn’t be pullin' off half his moves without you makin' sure he’s got his act together every step of the way."

  Elvis pulled his car into the Denny's parking lot, and parked it.

  "Yeah, well, it's the way we survive, right. Helping each other," said Philip. "Plus, Caleb's been more fun to hang out with tely."

  "That so?" said Elvis, tilting his head with a slow grin. "Well now, why d’you reckon that is?"

  "Because he's been dealing with these mysteries and secrets that he had to feel he had to keep buried deep down for decades. His time as the 90s stalker. His unknown sire. All of it, it's starting to come together for him and he's starting to realize who he really is. He's starting to heal from some of the pain he's had during his life. You know, I actually think he's going to win this thing against Renfield?"

  "Yeah, well, that’s the thing ‘bout pain," said Elvis, voice slow and steady. "You can patch it up all you want, but there’s always another storm rollin’ in."

  "I don't know about that. Yeah, it's a hard life, but we somehow manage to make it work. Together."

  "Well now, I don’t know. Let’s say ol’ Caleb hits a real rough patch. Loses someone real close-- one of the folks helpin’ him scheme against Renfield. Lookin’ out for him. Givin’ him all sorts of good advice, helpin’ in all those little ways. I reckon that’d tear him up inside. And maybe… just maybe… that old, mean Caleb comes crawlin’ back to the surface."

  "God, I hope not. That doesn't even bear thinking about. Hopefully, it'll all just--"

  Philip couldn't finish the sentence. He couldn't move. And there was a terrible pain in his chest. He couldn't even move his neck to see what it was.

  "Well," said Elvis, in an upper middle css English accent. "I suppose we're going to get to find out, now won't we?"

  Elvis removed his gsses, then began the meticulous work of sawing off Philip's head.