A Card Game Between Friends

 "Do you mind dealing the cards already, or will it take another 100 years to keep this game going?"

A sound of disapproval met the statement, followed by the riffling of cards. Cards shooting out from a corner of darkness would have been slightly humorous, had it not been for the company in the room.

At one corner sat Damiano Alighieri, the leader of a vampire faction out of Chicago. He looked every inch a stereotypical crime boss: black slicked back hair, ivory three piece suit, ornate rings adorning his fingers and a fur trimmed coat draped about his shoulders. His facial features looked almost to be hued from marble. The very picture of of classical Roman sculpture. Damiano adjusted his blood colored tie and smirked across the table at the person across him.

"Aren't you warm in that mess, Yuri? Well, warm being a general term..."

Yuri Kuznetsov scoffed at the jibe, but it was muffled due to the thick scarf he had around his head. His ushanka sat atop his head at a slight angle, his pointed ears sticking out ever so slightly. There was a slightly audible growl emanating from behind the material, and he yanked it down. Yuri revealed the jagged scar that elongated his mouth. His teeth were sharp, curved and slightly dingy. His nose was aquiline, but might have been broken at some point. The eyes were sunken, hollow and had a slightly yellowish hue, accented with bloodshot. Not bad looking for a nosferatu. 

"Warmth doesn't matter for our lot, Alighieri. But it matters if you look like me."

He pointed an elongated finger to the left of him. "I noticed they didn't get any of your ire."

On his left sat a younger light-skinned man, his attire pretty much screaming that he came from New York City. With his Yankees fitted cap tilted to the side, the man sneered which showed one of his gold plated fangs. 

Yuri hissed and shook his head. "Ostentatious. Purely egotistical."

Alejandro Reyes removed his cap, revealing a dark blue durag tied expertly about his head. Shedding his leather jacket, he grinned at Yuri. 

"I may be younger than most here by, oh I don't know, at least 50 years? But that drip is eternal, my guy."

"Drip?" yelled a voice across the table. "It's called style, boy. And you are at least a hundred years too soon for that!"

Leaning forward into the light was a dark-skinned Black woman, grinning broadly at her compatriots. Her locs were cascading behind her, silver threads mixed with the black. Lucille Fontenot laughed, a rich and hearty tone. She then looked to a figure obscured by the shadows and gestured with a waving motion. 

"You heard Alighieri; please. Let us start the game."

A gaunt figure with a paper talisman affixed to their forehead grunted in agreement. They gestured with a skeletal hand to the cards that were dealt. After nodding, they melded back into the darkness.

Lucille struck a match on the table and used it to light a cheroot. Taking a long drag, she exhaled; letting the smoke billow around them. 

Damiano wrinkled his nose at the scent. "Must you do that?"

Alejandro took this as a sign and produced a blunt from a shirt pocket and lit up. 

"Yes, yes we must." Both Alejandro and Lucille nodded at each other and laughed. 

Yuri snorted in derision and picked up his cards. "The game is Spades. Your partner is the one across from you." He looked up and saw Damiano tapping his forehead by way of salute. 

"Lovely," grumbled Yuri.

The spectre spoke one word. "BID."

Lucille looked over her cards at Alejandro. "What'cha got?"

Alejandro scanned his cards and nodded slowly. "Three and a possible. You?"

Lucille took another drag off the cheroot. "Three solo. Let's go six."

"Bet."

Damiano cut his eyes at Yuri and spoke one word. "Four."

Yuri muttered to himself, trying to calculate everything. "Three on my own."

"So, who goes first?"

A hand pointed to Lucille. "You start."

The game started up, and they casually chatted while making books and checking each other. 

"Vlad really just made the game so much harder when he blabbed to Stoker," remarked Damiano after winning a book.

"What brought that on?"

He looked at Yuri and shrugged. "I was just thinking how much easier hunting was before he gave him a damned manual on how to put us in the dirt."

Alejandro shrugged and played his card. "True. But he didn't know what we're truly capable of. Evolving. Y'know, because when prey evolves? So does the hunter."

Lucille put her cheroot down and snapped her fingers. A goblet of blood appeared on her right hand side as a response. She picked it up and took a slow sip. 

"That was almost philosophical of you -- DID YOU CUT MY CARD?"

Damiano wagged his finger. "No talking across the board!"

Alejandro scoffed. "Now ya mans wants to follow rules. Fuck outta here..."

"Anyway," said Lucille. "You bring up a good point though. It makes me wonder what Stoker had on Vlad for him to give up state secrets like that."

Yuri scratched his chin in thought. "Maybe his blood was worth it?"

"Maybe," mused Damiano. "Had to have been good to give that up."

They played their last hand and Lucille held her hand up to stop them from doing anything else.

"Alright...who reneged?" 

Alejandro shook his head. Damiano and Yuri did the same.

"Are you accusing me of cheating, Bayou Witch?"

"Right to the fuckin' slander, you relic. It was a perfectly honest question."

"BOY!" boomed Alejandro. "Yo, I know you ain't talking about anyone, lookin' like a Godfather reject out here. I knew it was you Fredo lookin' ass boy.."

Yuri snorted in laughter. "I may be a little old, but I caught that."

Damiano, now angered, retaliated. "Look here, you ancient relic...they should have left you buried in fucking Siberia and burned with the rest of the kindling."

The game devolved into arguing and to the point no one even remembered what kicked it off. 

An alarm beeped, cutting across the arguing. They all stopped abruptly and looked at their watches.

"Oh, is it time already?"

Damiano and Yuri nodded to Alejandro and Lucille. 

"Pleasure seeing you both," said Yuri.

Everyone shook hands, chatted amiably and left out of the warehouse.

The only being left was the specter that wore the talisman.

They pushed it aside, revealing a withered face. Picking up the still smoldering cheroot, they took a drag.

"Every ten years, it's the same bullshit."