Blood Gamble (Disrupted Magic Book 2) Read online

  Until, of course, it was.

  On Sunday evening, just a few days later, Shadow and I were at Jack and Juliet’s new condo in Sherman Oaks, listening to ten-year-old Riley tell a story about a boy at her school who had arrived wearing two different shoes. “And they didn’t even look alike. He was obviously super embarrassed about it. So my friend Ella—she’s on my soccer team—and I traded our left shoes during gym class,” she said, her big brown eyes sparkling. “And then two of the boys did the same thing at recess, and by lunchtime Mrs. Turner just did not know what to do with us.”

  She was sort of earnestly mischievous about it, and we were all laughing. Under the table, I could even feel Shadow’s clubbed tail thumping in solidarity.

  Riley preened a little, savoring the attention the way only kids can. Jack shot Juliet a little smile, one that was full of pride and awe at the cool little person Juliet had created. I’d never expected to see an expression like that on my brother’s face. It was kind of amazing, and made me a little sad, too.

  Riley’s brother, Logan, meanwhile, slipped yet another bite of hot dog under the table. We were eating one of Juliet’s specialties: gourmet hot dogs with bread wrapped right around them, plus corn on the cob and a quinoa salad. Shadow had wedged herself under the small table with her head turned toward the kids, who, as far as I could tell, snuck Shadow more of their food than they ate. I said nothing about this. It wasn’t every day you got to see a thoroughly delighted bargest.

  Logan, who was the most serious seven-year-old I’d ever met in my life, turned to face me, pushing up his glasses. “Aunt Scarlett,” he began, and my heart thrilled at the words. They both called my brother Jack, but they called me Aunt Scarlett, which made me smug as hell. “My friend Aidan, from support group, just got a service dog like Shadow.”

  “Aidan had eye cancer,” Juliet supplied. My sister-in-law was about my height, with Tina Fey–style square glasses and a curvy figure. Her mother was Korean, which was where she got the glossy black hair. “He’s been very excited about getting the dog.”

  “That’s cool,” I replied, a little cautious. Jack and his family had bought the cover story that I needed a seizure-alert dog because I’d suffered a minor brain injury in a car accident while Jack and I were estranged. It hadn’t been easy to convince my doctor brother that I really had epileptic-type seizures, especially since I never seemed to have one in his presence, but I had showed him a letter from my neurologist, and by now they were all used to Shadow accompanying me everywhere.

  “Aidan’s dog is a black Labrador,” Logan went on, pronouncing it carefully, “and he says everybody knows Labradors make the best service dogs. So I was wondering, what breed of dog is Shadow?”

  Hearing her name, the bargest thumped her tail again. “Well,” I said, trying for as much honesty as possible, “she’s a mutt, or a dog that has more than one breed mixed together.”

  Eager nod from Logan, obviously wanting me to continue. “She’s partly a breed called Peruvian Hairless, which is a very funny-looking dog with no hair, just like it sounds. And I think she’s got some kind of tracking dog, like maybe a bloodhound, and maybe even a tiny bit of wolf. Or husky,” I added, glancing at Juliet. If she was bothered by the idea that Shadow might be part wolf, it didn’t show in the smile she shot me.

  “Do you think I could take a picture of Shadow to group so I can show Aidan?” Logan asked hopefully. “Mom said I could.”

  “I said you could ask Scarlett,” she corrected.

  I smiled at him, but there was just no way I could put photos of Shadow out in the world. How to explain that to a seven-year-old who wasn’t allowed to know about my life? “I’m sorry, buddy,” I said, “Shadow is a really special dog, and I’m not sure I want other people looking at pictures of her.”

  He thought about that for a moment, while Jack and Riley made faces at each other over glasses of orange juice. “Are you afraid people will make fun of her,” Logan asked, then lowered his voice to a whisper, “because she’s ugly?”

  I kind of wanted to duck my head under the table to see how Shadow responded to that, but instead I suppressed my smile and tilted my head to the side, pretending to think it over. “Maybe a little bit,” I told Logan. “Tell you what: How about after supper I’ll help you find a picture of a Peruvian Hairless online, and you can bring that to school?”

  His lips twisted sideways as he considered this. “Trust me,” I added. “They’re really weird-looking.” This was true, although from what I’d read those dogs topped out around sixty pounds, and Shadow weighed three times that. She really did look like something Dr. Frankenstein had cooked up in a lab, minus the whole “using dead parts” bit. But the idea cheered Logan up, and he nodded happily.

  Later, as we were clearing the table, Juliet’s cell phone rang. She dug it out of her back pants pocket and checked the screen, her brow furrowing. “Why would your boss be calling me on a Sunday night?” she said to both Jack and me. It was common knowledge that Jack and I shared an employer . . . but I couldn’t think of a good reason for him to call Juliet. A wave of fear stirred in my extremely full stomach, but I managed to shrug at the same time Jack suggested, “Butt dial?”

  Juliet held out her free hand, palm up, like “what are you gonna do,” and answered the phone. “Oh, hello, Beatrice,” she said, giving us a confused glance. “No, I can talk.”

  At that moment, Logan raced through the kitchen with Riley at his heels, shouting at him about her tablet. Juliet winced and said, “One second, please,” into the phone. She gave Jack a look that said “all yours, dude” and retreated into their bedroom.

  While Jack got the kids calmed down, I finished cleaning up the kitchen, my thoughts whirring. My humans-only world and the Old World didn’t collide often, but I freaked out whenever they did. A vampire calling my sister-in-law at home, on a Sunday night? Definitely cause for alarm.

  The only thing I could think of was that the call could be wedding-related. Jack and Juliet had only been married for a couple of months, and Dashiell was Jack’s boss, too. Maybe Beatrice wanted to see if Juliet had received a late gift? Dashiell and Beatrice had made a brief stop at the small reception—the wedding itself had taken place during the day—but perhaps she’d forgotten the gift that night?

  It didn’t seem likely. Not when Beatrice had three separate assistants, two of whom were human.

  I got more and more nervous as the minutes ticked past without a sign of Juliet. I helped Logan find a picture of a Peruvian Hairless online, which took all of two seconds on Wikipedia, and then he disappeared into his room to play with his Legos. Jack invited me to play Settlers of Catan, which he’d been teaching to Riley. I tried to focus on setting up the complicated game, but Juliet still hadn’t returned by the time all the pieces were organized.

  The bedroom door finally opened right after Riley managed to swipe the Longest Road card from Jack. Juliet practically bounded out of the bedroom. “You’re not going to believe this!” she crowed, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Beatrice is throwing me a bachelorette party! Well, belated bachelorette party,” she added hastily. “In Vegas!”

  Chapter 4

  Oh, no.

  It hadn’t even occurred to me that the phone call could be related to the Vegas thing. All that delicious food in my stomach suddenly turned into a heavy block of ice.

  Sensing a longer adult conversation, Riley got up and went to use the bathroom. “Seriously?” my brother asked Juliet, standing up and going around the table to stand next to her. “I mean . . . when? Why?”

  Juliet, who hadn’t seemed this excited since Jack first proposed, began to bounce on her feet. “Next weekend! I guess Beatrice and Dashiell had show tickets and a suite reserved, and everything is paid for, but now they can’t go.” The words were tumbling out of her so fast, it would have been funny if my world hadn’t just caved in. “And Beatrice knew I never had a bachelorette party, so she hatched this whole plan to send us there at th
e last minute! All the bridesmaids are invited! Is it okay?” she asked Jack, suddenly anxious. “Can you be with the kids?”

  “Of course.” Jack was smiling at her.

  Abruptly, my shock was replaced with serious rage. How fucking dare he? How could Dashiell set up this situation behind my back? How could he pull Juliet, a completely innocent human, into it?

  Oh, right, because he needed to manipulate me into going on the trip. This was just like him, to use family against me.

  Juliet turned to me. “Oh, and they especially invited you, because I guess Dashiell wants you to do a little work while you’re there? Something about meeting with cleaning companies . . . Scarlett? Are you okay?”

  I was still standing behind the kitchen table, frozen in place. My palm hurt from the little house figure that was clenched in one of my fists. “Scarbo?” Jack asked, concern in his voice. He took one step toward me. “You look pale . . .”

  Shadow had gotten up from her place under the table and moved soundlessly over to me, putting her head under my hand. She had to duck to do it.

  “I . . . I . . .” I swallowed hard, forcing myself to take a deep breath. Anger would not be an appropriate response in this company, I reminded myself. You have to say something.

  Ordinarily I’d make an excuse about needing to work, but Juliet already knew Dashiell had given me the time off. And everyone knew I wasn’t exactly in the dating game these days. Besides, I couldn’t just duck out of the trip. I needed to make sure Juliet didn’t go at all. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I managed to say. “I thought you said you were too old for penis necklaces and screen-printed tank tops.”

  Juliet deflated, just a little bit, and I felt like an ass. My brother glared at me, rather rightfully. I was going to murder Dashiell. “I’m sorry,” I said before she could reply. “I’m just . . . um . . . Vegas isn’t my favorite.”

  Jack’s face softened. He took a step back to his wife, putting an arm around her shoulders. “We went to Las Vegas for my twenty-first birthday, right before our parents died,” he told her. “It was our last family trip.”

  “Oh,” Juliet said, understanding flooding her face. “Oh. Scarlett!”

  I winced. “That’s not . . . that isn’t the only reason,” I said lamely. But Juliet had already darted forward and thrown her arms around me. I awkwardly patted her back. I am not a hugger.

  It was true that the family trip to Vegas had been rough, though it took me years to figure out why. Vegas is a vampire town, and every time we left our hotel rooms, vampires were stumbling in and out of my radius. Only I didn’t know what I was yet, so I didn’t know how to process the endless weird sensations and the strange looks I kept getting from people I didn’t know. Most of them were hateful, although a few looked at me the way I suspect pedophiles look at kids. Like I was something to be used up.

  And they didn’t just stare. Every time Jack and my dad went to the bathroom or the blackjack table, I was propositioned for what I thought at the time was sex. As a body-shy seventeen-year-old, it was a nightmare.

  Juliet took a step back so she could touch my face with her cool, dry palms. “Listen,” she said, sympathy in her voice. “Vegas has changed so much in the last eight years; you probably won’t even recognize it. And we’re not doing the penis necklace, matching tank tops, club thing,” she added sternly. “I was very clear about that. We’ll take in a show—Beatrice got more tickets so we can all go—do some shopping, maybe hit the spa.” Her eyes were sparkling. “The three big S’s of female bonding, right? It’ll be so much fun. Beatrice and Bethany have got it all planned.”

  “Bethany?” I said faintly. Ugh, talk about making matters worse.

  Bethany Sibowski was Juliet’s older stepsister, a chiropractor in Reseda. I wouldn’t say she was my nemesis—I didn’t see her often enough, and really, there were a lot of other people who hated me more. There just wasn’t room for human Bethany on my nemesis short list. But she was an uptight, severe woman who probably organized the contents of her change purse.

  Even I had to admit that Bethany had made an excellent matron of honor for Juliet, given her obsession with details. But she thought I was a useless slacker who naturally sucked at all the important things in life: organization, bridal shower games, personal grooming, and returning phone calls in a timely manner. She wasn’t exactly wrong about any of that, but still. If Bethany was planning the weekend, I would bet a year’s salary that there was a printed itinerary in my near future. Probably in goddamned calligraphy.

  But of course, Bethany was far from my biggest problem. I couldn’t put Juliet and a bunch of innocent humans in the middle of a possible vampire skirmish. I had to nip this in the bud before my sister-in-law got any more excited. And I needed to have a conversation with Dashiell about using humans as cannon fodder. Especially my humans.

  I mumbled something about needing to sleep on it, and made some excuses. I don’t think I even said goodbye to Riley and Logan before I bolted for the van with Shadow trotting after me. It wasn’t until I saw my shaking hands on the steering wheel that I realized I was furious.

  I drove to Pasadena in a blind rage—though since this was LA, anger-driving probably put me in the majority. I parked on the fancy Spanish-tiled driveway and stormed up the sculpted path toward the front door. Shadow had sensed my obvious tension and made no effort to go explore Dashiell’s yard. Instead, she was in full-on silent predator mode, stalking along beside me with the hunt in her eyes.

  As soon as the vampire lackey opened the door, I marched past him toward Dashiell’s office. The lackey let us go by without so much as a comment, which probably meant that Dashiell had warned him I was coming—which in turn meant he had known exactly how I would feel about this, and he’d done it anyway.

  Just when I thought I couldn’t get any angrier.

  I slammed Dashiell’s office door open, hard enough to make it hit the wall. Shadow surged in ahead of me to check the room for threats.

  There was a pretty frickin’ big threat sitting behind the desk. Dashiell gazed at me calmly. A thin, fashionably dressed brunette woman stood next to him, looking slightly flustered. Beatrice, Dashiell’s vampire wife. She’d probably been sitting in his lap before I stormed in.

  “Good evening, Scarlett,” Dashiell said mildly. There was a slight edge to his voice as he added, “Please, do come in.”

  Not finding any strangers, or any immediate source of danger, Shadow returned to my side, clearly a little confused, but ready to back my play. “You win, boss,” I spat. “I’ll go to Vegas and be your little spy. Now call it off.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Call what off?”

  I ground my teeth. “The bachelorette weekend.” I pointed to the cell phone sitting on the desk. “Call Juliet and cancel.”

  Beatrice made a little clucking noise, and Dashiell gave me a disapproving frown. “Scarlett. Do you know how hard Beatrice worked to plan a full bachelorette weekend so quickly?”

  “I don’t care!” My voice came out shrill.

  Beatrice gave me a look that I’d seen on my mother’s face: I sounded petulant. No one would take me seriously until I calmed down. I threw myself into the chair, glaring at them as I took a couple of deep breaths. “I’ll go see your stupid fucking show,” I said in the calmest tone I could manage. “Hell, I’ll go tonight, right now, if you want. But leave my family out of this.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” Dashiell said smoothly. “The situation has changed.”

  “How?”

  Beatrice stepped back to perch on a table behind the desk, while Dashiell picked up his cell phone and pressed the screen. “I took your advice,” he said, his eyes on the phone. “I sent one of my vampires to see the opening performance on Friday night.”

  “Who did you send?” I instantly regretted the digression, which sort of took the wind out of my angry sails.

  “Margaret,” he replied nonchalantly. I had met her: a plump, sexy vampire
who radiated confidence and charm—when she wanted to. I could see how she’d be a good choice for a mission that involved interacting with humans. “She sent me several photos from the opening night reception, and was supposed to call me after the show.”

  “She didn’t call,” I guessed, temporarily distracted by the story.

  “No. I presume she has been killed.” His voice was still completely calm, and before I could really absorb that idea, he handed the phone across the desk to me. “These were taken right before the performance,” he explained. “Scroll right.”

  I shot him a glare, but now I was too curious to resist. Accepting the phone, I saw that the photos had been taken in an elegant ballroom, with everyone in formalwear. There were a couple of surreptitious shots of a gorgeous couple, the same man and woman pictured in the newspaper article. I scrolled again. The last photo was of just the man, Arthur Holmwood, with a second man leaning down to say something in his ear. The second man was in profile, with only part of his face visible to the camera, but his body language was deferential. “I know him,” I said absently. I swiped my fingers on the screen to zoom in, my brow furrowing. Then I looked at Dashiell in disbelief. “No fucking way. It’s gotta be a mistake.”

  Dashiell shook his head. “No mistake. It’s him.”

  The second man in the photo was Jameson Thomas, formerly of New York City. And he was a null.

  Chapter 5

  Years earlier, I had been betrayed by my psycho ex-mentor, Olivia, the woman who had first introduced me to the Old World. Olivia’s crimes included, but were not limited to, killing my parents, attempting to slowly brainwash me into becoming her clone, stalking and threatening my loved ones, and trying to turn me into a vampire. I managed to get away from her, but afterward I felt like I couldn’t trust anything she’d taught me. Which, at the time, was everything I knew about the Old World.