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English
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Part 1 of Wildcard
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L&Co Greater London Polycule Gift Exchange 2023, Lockwood Chaos Discord Fics
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Published:
2023-09-22
Words:
3,220
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1/1
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35
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100
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Knave of Clubs (Wildcard)

Summary:

Her eyes fixed on the boy sitting across from her. “Well, Lockwood,” Lucy said coolly. “Neither of us have enough chips left. But it’s your turn. Now, I’ll give you an option. You can fold, or you can put the skull jar in, and I’ll show you my cards. Does that sound fair?”

***

Lucy never ended up at Lockwood & Co. when she got to London. At a card game for independent operators, she meets the skull in the jar.

Notes:

Thank you, justice_for_skull, for beta’ing all of my work (including this one). You’re a wonderful friend and writing partner. Here’s something fun just for you. After all the angst I’ve made you read, you deserve it 💙

***

Brag is similar to poker with a few key differences. Straights are called runs, which are ranked higher than flushes. The highest hand is a prial, or a three of a kind. You can learn more about how to play here. Any inaccuracies are entirely my fault.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The warehouse in Whitechapel was dark, lit mostly by three small lavender fires at even intervals around the circular table. It was a small game of brag; only six players with a couple of Nightwatch kids standing guard at the doors and another independent agent at the table with their collateral. Broken glass littered the floor, and their empty beer bottles cluttered the table. 

“It’s an exclusive group of independent operators,” Danny Clough had whispered to Lucy the night before. He was the senior Tendy’s agent on the job, with Talent way past its prime and who was clearly on his way out. “Here, take this, you’ll need to bring it as assurance.” He slipped her one of the two golden wedding rings they’d secured, shut in a small silver box. “I can pick you up, if you want. Tomorrow at ten?”

Even if it was a poor attempt at trying to get into her knickers, even if she had no desire to go to some seedy abandoned warehouse with a man she’d just met, Lucy knew she would go. She didn’t have much of a choice. It was a miracle really, that she’d gotten by in London this long. After spending the majority of the cash she’d nicked on the train ticket south and DEPRAC fees to set up as a freelance agent, she’d spent the past couple of weeks rationing half slices of toast and reusing tea bags. Despite her Talent, even low-paying jobs were slow to trickle in.

Lucy drummed her fingers on the table, gaze fixed on her hand. It wasn’t bad but it wasn’t good either. They were playing four-card tonight, and she had a run with low cards: three of diamonds, four of spades, five of clubs. Her discarded card wasn’t much use, another lowly four. Still, her odds weren’t bad. And if she hadn’t been so low on cash, she might have even liked her odds just fine.

“Where the hell did you find these two anyway?” the large greasy boy to her right jeered. Leopold was apparently the son of an infamous dealer. He gave Lucy the creeps.

At her other side, Danny glared at him. “What’s your problem? Carlyle and I worked a job last night and she’s the one who secured the rings. She’s also an excellent Listener and if we have any Visitors, she’ll hear ’em well before these Nightwatch kids you brought.”

“Hey, these canaries are good enough for—”

“We know the quality of your canaries, Leo,” the man to his right interrupted. Jack Carver was a scary looking fellow, truth be told, and the one running the game. Danny had been working with him on the side as of late, but Lucy didn’t want to cross him.

“He’s got a good point though, Danny,” Carver continued. “When I said I had two spots to fill, I meant relic men. She looks barely old enough to hold a rapier—no offence, Carlyle—and this one here looks like a narc.” He gestured his head at the boy directly across from Lucy. 

A look of protest passed the boy’s face, but as he was dressed in a suit and tie, Lucy had to agree.

“Lockwood and I go way back,” Danny assured Carver.

“Locky’s one of the good ones,” the last player chimed in at the same time. Sat between Danny and Lockwood, she was the only other girl at the table. Florence Bonnard, or Flo Bones, was a relic woman—the relic woman, she claimed—who worked the Thames. She certainly smelt like it.

“Hmph,” Carver grunted. But he didn’t say anything else.

Lucy understood why. Standing at the table with the collateral was a snivelling boy with glasses named George. Apparently he worked for Lockwood and was holding their Source, a silver-glass jar with some sort of spectre trapped inside, protectively in his arms. It was by far the most valuable thing in the warehouse, even more so than the rings. George nicked it from Fittes, supposedly, but Lucy found that hard to believe.

“Anyway my point is, yes, they’re technically agents, but they have less DEPRAC oversight than your general lot. Besides, they brought actual Sources.” Danny raised his eyebrows at Leopold.

Leopold’s collateral was an artefact with some serious psychic charge, but was nonetheless a mostly harmless teddy bear. The other players snickered and his face turned red. He stood up angrily.

“Leo, Leo.” Once again Carver reined him in. “Let’s just play this hand, yeah? You dealt already. Look at these kids. They barely have two coins to rub between them. We’ll clean them out and go home.”

Still glaring, Leopold slowly sat down.

There was an uncomfortable silence as the players brought their attention back to their hands.

In the back of her head, Lucy heard a low chuckle. She snapped her head up. But everyone was staring at their cards, mouths closed.

Sitting to Leopold’s right, Carver led off the play. He put in a middling amount.

Lockwood had a toothy grin on as he placed down the maximum bet. Lucy cursed inwardly. She’d have to fold.

Flo shook her head and sighed. She now had to match his bet. “Fuck you, Locky.” She slid her chips forward. Danny followed suit.

“Carlyle?” Carver asked gruffly. 

The laughter in the back of her head became louder, hooting and a bit maniacal. She looked around. “Uh, guys? Do you hear that?”

Carver raised an eyebrow. “Hear what Carlyle?”

“Laughter,” Lucy said unsteadily.

Leopold scoffed. “You just want to get out of the hand.”

“No, seriously—” she looked at the other agents, panicked. Surely they could sense something, couldn’t they? George stared at her blankly, but she couldn’t catch Lockwood’s gaze.

The laughter stopped. “Oh,” a voice in the back of her head whispered. “You can hear me, can’t you, Lucy Carlyle.”

She clapped at her ears, even though she knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

Lockwood was still looking around. “No, she’s right, I feel…something. But I don’t See anything.”

“If you don’t See anything, Locky, I’m not worried,” Flo said.

This time Leopold laughed, grotesque but real. “Maybe it’s Tom’s ghost coming back to haunt us.”

“We burned all of his stuff,” Carver waved a hand dismissively. 

“Who’s Tom?” George asked.

“A relic man who was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Carver said smugly. The way he said it sent a chill down Lucy’s spine. “He used to play with us. That was his seat, actually,” he nodded toward Lucy.

She set her jaw as the laughter started again. 

“Over here, Lucy,” the voice sang.

Her eyes fell on George. More specifically, she saw the ghost swirling around the jar that he was holding. Lucy took a deep breath before slowly lowering her hands.

“You alright there, Ms. Carlyle?” Lockwood asked her. To his credit, he looked genuinely concerned.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine,” she nodded. She stared at the pool of chips in the middle of the table.

“So?” Leopold sneered. “Bet or fold?”

“Lockwood doesn’t have the cards,” the voice whispered again. “Bet.”

Three questions occurred to Lucy at the exact same time.

Number one: was she hallucinating? Whenever she told someone that she was a Listener, they inevitably shared a story of another Listener that had gone mad. They never knew this other Listener personally, but they always had a story.

Number two: could it actually be a Type Three? Yes, Lucy knew she was Talented, exceptionally so. But only one person had ever communicated with a Type Three, and she was long gone. Still, the ghost had called her by name. She wished she could respond to be sure.

Which brought her to number three, the most important question of all: could she trust it?

She did not. If it was really a Type Three—unlikely in and of itself—it could only be the most evil of spirits. She folded.

The voice cursed. “Stupid girl. All he has is a pair of sevens.”

She ignored him. The round continued until it was only Leopold and Lockwood left. Leopold put down double Lockwood’s last bet. “I’ll see you.”

Lockwood bit his lip and George swore behind him. He laid down his hand. To Lucy’s shock, all he had was really a pair of sevens.

Leopold showed his flush of diamonds: a five, six, and eight. He took the pot.

“Told you,” the voice taunted.

Lucy ground her teeth. She could have won that hand. But she was beginning to see she couldn’t play as conservatively as she’d like with this crowd. It put her in a tough spot. She didn’t have a lot of money and she really didn’t want to use the ring. Not if she could help it.

It was her turn to deal.

She took the played cards and stuck them at the bottom of the deck. Once everyone put their ante in, she distributed the cards.

When she looked at her cards, she bit her cheek to hide a smile. Another run, but a fairly high one this time: eight and nine of diamonds, and ten of clubs. She discarded the three.

Leopold started with another middling bet. This time, everyone matched—Lockwood seemed to have been taken down a peg. Lucy was the last to go. She put down the maximum. George let out a low whistle.

Leopold matched her, but Carver dropped out. Lockwood held her gaze as he shoved his chips forward.

“He’s betting on a high card, Lucy. Reckless is the name of this kid’s game. Just force his hand,” the skull grinned wickedly.

It didn’t matter. She knew she could win.

Flo put her chips in, but Danny folded as well. Lucy grimaced as she put another fistful of chips into the pot. This could go on until she was out. Leopold and Lockwood matched her again.

These two fuckers just had everything to lose, didn’t they?

With a steely gaze, she put in the maximum again. She’d put in the ring if she had to. She was winning this round.

Thankfully, Leopold folded. Lockwood slid another stack of chips forward, smiling. Lucy couldn’t help but be a little impressed. If what the skull said was true, Lockwood was really bluffing out of his arse. But it was also very, very annoying.

She looked at George. “Give me the ring,” she said. “This is easily double. Let me see.”

Lockwood’s smile didn’t fade, but she noticed a tick in his jaw. Sure enough, he had the King of hearts, a nine of clubs, and a five of diamonds.

For the first time that night, she smiled. She showed her cards. With both arms, she swept her winnings to her side of the table.

“Lockwood…” George’s voice warned.

“I’ve got it under control, George,” he responded tightly. “Good hand, Ms. Carlyle.”

The skull cackled. “Well done. You didn’t even need my help on that one. But I have a task for you, Lucy. Get him to bet me. Take me home.”

Lucy cocked her head to the side. Why on earth would it want her to do that?

But it had been right about everything so far.

She passed the deck to Danny for him to deal.

The next few rounds were a blur. She did surprisingly well; between her (admittedly, with the skull’s help) and Leopold, they won most of the deals. Lucy noticed that Danny and Flo played conservatively, and subsequently weren’t winning. Carver was ruthless and won a couple, but also seemed to know when to fold. Lockwood, however, was flat out reckless with his money to the point that George had stopped watching. But it finally paid off when he won with a flush after they’d gone around the table four times.

His eyes sparkled at her as he took his winnings. Lucy felt an unfamiliar swoop in her stomach. She hoped she wasn’t coming down with something.

“One final round?” he grinned. It was his turn to deal.

Danny pushed his chair back. “I’m out.”

Leopold, surprisingly, did the same. “I’m happy.”

Carver and Flo, however, both shrugged. “You owe me a bag of licorice for getting you in here in the first place, Locky, don’t forget,” the latter said.

“Ms. Carlyle?” He looked at her, daring her to step out.

“Deal me in.”

Lucy picked up her cards. A four and Jack of spades, a king of diamonds, and—yes, her heart soared—the Jack of clubs. She could use him as a wildcard for a queen. It was nearly the highest run she could hope for. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

“Careful, Lucy,” the skull broke through her reverie. “He’s got a high run.”

Lucy held her breath. Just how high?

“Queen, Jack, ten. But it’s not a flush.” he said.

It was all she could do to not breathe out a sigh of relief. She had him. 

When she was sure no one was looking, she winked at the jar. The skull smiled widely back at her.

Flo went first, putting the minimum in. She was nearly out of chips, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Then it was Lucy’s turn. She did the same. She wanted to drag this out and let the pot grow.

They were all playing conservative this round. Carver and Lockwood each put in the minimum before they all went around doing the same twice more.

Flo folded first. “This was fun, but I got nothing.” She looked at Lockwood. “You better win.”

Lucy upped the bet. The remaining three went around several times before Carver folded. He glared at the two players left.

It was just her and Lockwood. He put the maximum in. She followed. They stared each other down as their own respective piles dwindled and the pot grew larger. Was he really going to give it all up? Why didn’t he ask to see her cards already?

“Oh come on,” Danny groaned. Clearly she wasn’t the only one tired of the game. “Show your cards already. It’s one in the morning, some of us still have work to do tonight.”

If Lucy had learned anything about Anthony Lockwood this evening, it was that he was as stubborn as she was.

“Come on, Lucy. Get him to put me in,” the skull coaxed.

Lucy took a minute to think, her gaze flicking back and forth between Lockwood and George (well, the skull). No one else could hear it, she reasoned. It was clearly useful. Maybe it could give her an edge in the field.

She made her decision. She wanted the skull.

Her eyes fixed on the boy sitting across from her. “Well, Lockwood,” Lucy said coolly. “Both of us are running out of chips here, and neither of us have enough to see. But it’s your turn. Now, I’ll give you an option. You can fold—” 

Lockwood blanched.

“—Or you can put the skull jar in, and I’ll show you my cards. Does that sound fair?”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” George blurted out. 

Lockwood looked over his shoulder. “We need the money.” Lucy couldn’t see his face, but his voice was pleading.

“Lockwood, you can’t. This is priceless.”

“George.”

“It’s not even yours!”

“It’s not yours either, jackass!” the skull cried.

“George, please. Please trust me,” Lockwood begged.

George screwed up his face, but walked the jar over. The skull seemed to be—was he dancing?

Lockwood turned back around. “Well, Ms. Carlyle, you certainly drive a hard bargain.” A beat. “Let’s see them then.”

She laid her hand out. 

“FUCK YEAH! THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!” the skull roared.

Lockwood and Flo both cursed, and a string of very creative expletives flew from George’s mouth. Danny gave a little whoop and a clap. The other two stood silently.

Lockwood flashed his cards at her. “I really thought I had you. Well done.” He stuck his hand out, chin held high.

Lucy shook it. “Good game.”

She watched his demeanour change as soon as he turned back to George. Lockwood’s hand went to his friend’s shoulder, and he began apologising profusely in low, soothing tones. It would have been an endearing sight, if it weren’t for the waves of anger that were visibly radiating off of George. George shrugged out from under Lockwood’s touch, whispering furiously. She almost felt bad for them.

They started shooting her furtive glances and she braced herself for what she knew would come next. Sure enough, Lockwood strode over.

“Listen, Ms. Carlyle,” Lockwood began.

“You want the skull, don’t you?” Lucy finished as kindly as she could.

“No way, absolutely not. You can’t give me back to them, Lucy! They’ll torture me! They’re awful, awful boys. You can’t begin to imagine! Please Lucy!” the skull begged.

A look of relief passed Lockwood’s face before he pasted on a charming smile that Lucy imagined worked on middle-aged women and swooning Sensitives. “Yes, and I…I don’t have money on me now, obviously, but I’d be happy to pay the double that I would have put down—you know what, I’ll pay triple the final bet. You can obviously keep him for now as collateral. Why don’t we exchange information?”

Lucy smiled at the jar, bringing her hand to the lid. “I’m sorry, but I think not.”

Lockwood spluttered, his face suddenly ashen. “What do you mean…you think not?”

“I mean, I think I’m going to keep him,” Lucy shrugged. She hoisted the jar onto her hip as she slid the money in her backpack. Keeping her eye on the room, she slowly backed toward the door.

“Wait, you can’t—”

“Nice to meet you.” She couldn’t help grinning now, especially with the skull crowing in her head. This was going to be fun. “Thanks for inviting me, Danny, I had a great time!”

Hand on her rapier, she spun on her heel and ran as soon as she reached the threshold.

She sprinted for half a mile before waving down a Night Cab. She was fairly certain no one had bothered to follow her, although she had been scared Leopold and Carver might. At least Lockwood and George, while they were clearly angry, seemed harmless enough. She sat back in the cab with heaving breaths, sweat plastering her clothes to her skin.

The skull chatted her ear off on the ride back. She didn’t mind. It was nice to have company for once. She wanted to respond, but she’d have to wait until they were home. 

Home. Suddenly, she was embarrassed by the thought of the cramped little flat in Tooting. What would he think?

At least she could scrape together rent this month. There were a couple of low-paying jobs coming up, mostly Lurkers and the odd Stone Knocker. But between those and her winnings tonight, she could get by for a couple more weeks. She could even splurge on her favourite Thai takeout tomorrow and still be okay. The thought cheered her considerably.

After the cab pulled up and she paid the fare, she climbed the stairs of the shoddy building. Lucy brought out the glowing jar from her backpack to show her new friend his new home. She shrugged. “It’s not much but it’s mine.” 

“I love it,” the skull whispered.

Notes:

Thank you to the cot3/skullyle channel on Chaos for yelling about this AU with me. Thank you especially to hailqiqi for britpicking (any mistakes are my own) and giving excellent feedback and inspiration for more installments down the line.

Let me know what you think!

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