• Oh, but isn’t this one sweet. He stands before me, face filled with young determination and eyes filled with fear. He stands tall and straight, but I can see the tremors running up his spine. Mmm. I could have fun with this one.

    I take a final drag on my cigarette and stub it out on the arm of my chair. It’s a filthy mortal habit, but what harm will it do me? I blow smoke out at the young hero and smile.

    “Come for a trade, have you?” I’ve already made up my mind to accept. My fingers twitch in anticipation of this boy’s soul.

    He takes in a deep gulp of dank air and steadies himself. “N-no,” he stammers. “I’ve come for a game of chance.”

    My eyes widen, and my pulse quickens at my throat. A game of chance. I can’t remember the last time…

    Knees crack as they hit the ground, hands clench and shake. A voice thick with fear begs for mercy. A knife falls. Rivulets of scarlet run between my toes. Joyous laughter rings through the hall…

    Oh, yes. I do remember. My tongue darts out and wets my lips. I slowly stand and walk down the steps leading to my dark throne. The silky black fabric of my dress rustles softly against my legs as my steps take me to stand in front of this boy. He’s taller then I am, but not by much. I trail the tips of my finger down his cheek. My nails, painted to look like red-and-white die, p***k drops of blood from the tender hollow at the base of his throat.

    He shudders and closes his eyes. He really is beautiful- his eyes are wide and dark, with lashes any girl would kill for. The fine bones of his face could easily have been carved from marble. Hair the color of onyx curls gently against his neck.

    I bring my lips to his ear. “For whom do you play?” I whisper.

    He pulls a drawing of a girl from his pocket, careful not to say her name. He rests his eyes on her portrait for a moment, before I impatiently snatch it from his fingers. I hand the drawing to one of the black-clad guards standing nearby, sending him off with instructions to find her and bring her to me.

    I turn my attention back to the boy. “I suppose you already know the rules of the game,” I say. He nods and I ignore him, pulling a six-sided die from a pocket in my sleeve. I hold it up between us.

    “You get one chance—only one chance—to roll the die. There are no do-overs, no mess-ups. If you win, your… love-” I spit out the word, “-will be returned to you, body and soul, and you both will be free to wander the world above, doing whatever it is you do until you die.” I sneer and roll the die in my fingers. “You win if you roll a six.”

    The boy’s mouth falls open. “A six!? But that’s-”

    “That’s what?” I hiss. “Not fair? You’re in Hell, boy- there is no fair, not down here.”

    He closes his mouth with an audible click.

    “If you roll anything else, you and your girl’s souls will be mine to do with what I will. Do you know what that means?” I step closer and begin to circle the boy, whispering to him. “Not just for a short time, while you wait to be judged, but forever. You will become one of the damned. Happiness will become a forgotten concept to you- light, a distant memory. Pain will be all you know, and when I tire of you, you will be sent to dwell in flames, burning alongside the murderers and rapists.”

    The boy swallows hard and closes his eyes once more. His lashes look like dark feathers resting on pale snow, and I reach out to brush them when a sudden clomping makes us both jerk.

    I turn to see the guard’s return. His gloved hand is tightly gripping the upper arm of the girl in the drawing. Her hands are bound with black rope, and a piece of cloth is stretched over her mouth. She has to run to keep up with the guard’s pace. He stops a few feet away from where the boy and I stand and lets go of the girl. She slides to the ground, eyes wide and panicked. She’s a pale, wispy thing, wearing only a simple white nightdress- presumably what she died in. She looks out of place here, a splotch of pure white against the dark stone.

    When the boy sees her his eyes go wide. He raises himself up on his toes, as if to run to her, but he manages to keep himself from moving.

    I take the boy’s hand and press the die into his palm. “It’s good you came when you did,” I whisper. “She almost managed to be free. Wouldn’t want that, not with so much for her to look forward to.”

    I drop his hand and walk back to my throne. “I should thank you,” I call over my shoulder. “I’m sure she and I will have lots of… fun.”

    I hear a quiet sob behind me and smile.

    Settling myself into my chair, I smirk at the boy, who is standing frozen in the middle of the floor, staring at the ground. A tear drips off his chin.

    “Throw,” I hiss.

    The boy slowly raises his clenched fist. He looks over at the girl, pain and guilt etched upon his face.

    “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and casts the die at his feet.

    It flies through the air, tumbling gracefully toward the earth. All is silent as the die hits the ground, clatters loudly on the stone, rolling, rolling, rolling… and stops.

    A gasp.

    A scream.

    And on the cold, hard stone lays a single red die, its three white dots staring mockingly at the sky.