Blood Gamble (Disrupted Magic Book 2) Page 8

  “Don’t be late to the spa,” Bethany called after me. I rolled my eyes and kept going, clamping down on my radius.

  I needed to find at least one of those volunteers. Fighting against the departing crowd, I threaded my way into the lower doors, ignoring the curious looks of the ushers, who made no attempt to stop me from moving toward the front of the theater. There were a handful of other audience members doing the same thing, in order to take pictures in front of the massive stage. I held my phone up, pretending to frame a selfie, while I looked around for any of the dozen people who’d been chosen as volunteers. I already wished I’d paid better attention to how they looked, but I’d been a little far from the stage.

  It would have been smart to wander the aisles a little, but I had to concentrate so hard on keeping in my radius that it was all I could do to stand there smiling at my phone as I pivoted around, scanning the crowd. Just as I was beginning to despair, I recognized a bright fuchsia dress, walking away from me. That woman and her companion had been two of the volunteers.

  I hurried after them as they walked through the theater’s exit doors and into the lobby, which joined up with the rest of the casino. When I got close, I felt the tiny zing of two presses breaking.

  To my relief, it felt like any other vampire press: just a simple little mind charm. Breaking the press doesn’t usually affect the human, but this time the two of them paused simultaneously, looking at each other. I stepped a little closer, pretending to dig for something in my little bag.

  “Do we even really want to go to this thing?” the woman said doubtfully. “I’d honestly rather just go out to dinner. Or head back to the room. I’m sick of these heels.”

  The man was looking down at something, and when I took a tiny step sideways I could see that he was holding what looked like two flyers, each about a quarter the size of a piece of paper. “You know, I don’t even really care,” he said slowly, like he was surprised. “Let’s skip it.”

  “Awesome.” The woman gave him a peck on the cheek, and the guy strode over to a trash can and tossed the flyers inside. He held out his arm, and the woman took it, leaning in to tell him something that made him laugh.

  It was a weird time for me to feel a pang of loneliness. They were just so couple-y. It was obnoxiously cute. I pushed the thought aside, wandering over to the same garbage can. When I was sure the couple was out of sight, I pretended to reach into my mouth for a nonexistent piece of gum. I mimed putting it into the bin, but quickly pushed my whole arm inside, grimacing, until my fingers brushed against the edge of what felt like pieces of card stock. I pulled them out, glancing around to make sure no one was watching me. Then I looked down at the top flyer.

  It was thick, glossy card stock, with an old-timey font that communicated class and mystique. Thank you for participating in Demeter, it read. You are cordially invited to socialize with the cast during this evening’s Volunteer Reception. Please bring this pass to ensure entry.

  Below that was today’s date and the name of one of the ballrooms, probably in the Bellagio’s conference center.

  I leaned my back against the wall to think. I had the answer that Dashiell had been looking for—the Holmwoods were definitely giving away their vampire status, although that didn’t mean anyone would believe them, especially in Las Vegas. At this point, I could consider my job finished. As soon as I updated Dashiell, I could go back to the bachelorette party and collect a fat paycheck for my trouble.

  But I still didn’t know what was going on with Jameson. Why was he working for the Holmwoods? Was he okay? And dammit, the disappearances bothered me. Vampires don’t always report their comings and goings, even in a city that does have a strong cardinal vampire. But Margaret wouldn’t have vanished without telling Dashiell, and Laurel had seemed convinced that Ellen wouldn’t disappear, either. If there really were these vampire hunters or whatever in town, was anyone doing anything about it?

  I tapped the end of the card against my palm, weighing my options. Technically, my work here was done, but I’d been sent here to observe and report. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to make a quick stop at this party for a little more observing?

  I would need to work hard on controlling my radius, though, which meant it would be good to have someone at my back. And I did have two tickets. Unfortunately, there was really only one person I could think to ask, and bringing him meant leaving Juliet unprotected, at least for a little while.

  But it couldn’t be helped. I pulled out my phone and called Cliff.

  Thirty minutes later, the two of us were walking through the promenade of shops, on our way to the Bellagio’s Renaissance-themed conference rooms. Or at least I hoped we were. I’d gotten lost twice trying to meet Cliff, so at this point it was anybody’s guess.

  I was holding on to his arm in what I hoped looked like a romantic, old-fashioned way, and not at all like I would probably walk straight into a wall without it. He was still wearing the suit from earlier, but he’d added a tie. “Are you sure they’ll really stay put?” I said distractedly. I’d already asked this at least twice, but it was hard to concentrate on his answer when I was so focused on reining in my radius.

  “As I said, Miss Bernard,” he said patiently, “Miss Nash persuaded them to order pizzas and head back to their suite for an old-fashioned slumber party.” Miss Nash was Laurel. I’d told Cliff that she was clued into the Old World, and he’d asked her to help keep the others corralled for the night. I didn’t think anyone was aware that I was in town—yet—but I didn’t want to take any chances while I was keeping their bodyguard with me. “She was very helpful,” he added.

  Of course she was. I was heading into a vampire den to get the answers she wanted.

  We stopped—or, rather, Cliff stopped, and I stumbled for a foot before catching myself. “I think this is it,” he said, looking from the invitation in his hand to the ballroom in front of us. I’d almost walked right by it, which did not escape my companion. He glanced down at me. “You sure about this?”

  I nodded tightly. “We stay at least two feet away from everyone, do a quick circuit of the room, and get out of there. If we see Jameson, I need to talk to him.” Although I hadn’t worked out exactly what I was going to say.

  Cliff’s face was expressionless, but there was something in his body language that seemed . . . defiant. I glanced down at his hands. They were twitching, like he was trying to pull an imaginary trigger.

  I pulled him down the hallway a ways, past the door and toward the bathrooms, which was one place where vampires did not hang out. I risked releasing my radius again so I could scrutinize him. “Can you handle this?” I asked.

  “Of course, Miss Bernard.”

  “Cut the shit,” I snapped. “You seem . . . I don’t know, something. Scared. Do we have a problem?”

  If anything, his face became more guarded. “No, ma’am. I am here on Theo Hayne’s orders to protect a group of human women, and as a secondary subject, you.”

  “Are you aware that your right hand is resting on the butt of your gun?” I said, a little snide.

  He jerked his hand away, smoothing down the jacket of his suit. “I apologize, Miss Bernard.”

  I studied him. Something felt wrong here. “What is it you usually do for Dashiell?”

  “I protect the mansion,” he said immediately. “I assess security threats, patrol, maintain the grounds. When Miss Beatrice’s assistant needs to run errands, I drive her. I also maintain Hayne’s weapons and vehicles. Ma’am.”

  “And you do all that during the day, right? Only during the day?”

  “Yes, Miss Bernard.”

  I rolled my eyes and stepped forward, all the way into his personal space, and said very softly, “If you call me ma’am, or Miss Bernard, or anything at all besides Scarlett, one more time, I am going to call Hayne and tell him I need someone else, because your insistence on formality is threatening my cover story. Or would you prefer that I ask for someone else?”

  “No,
m—” He cleared his throat. “Scarlett.”

  “Thank you. Tell me the truth. Are you afraid of vampires?”

  He bristled. “That’s the wrong word,” he said after a measured pause. “I am not afraid of sharks, as a concept, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to carve a few gashes in my skin and jump into the Pacific.”

  I shot him a skeptical look. “Yeah, but in this analogy, you work for the shark.”

  “I told you, I—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I held up a hand. “You work for Hayne. So why did he send you, if you’re skittish around the Old World?”

  “Because he trusts me,” Cliff said simply.

  That actually made more sense than just about anything else he might have said. Hayne owed me; I had saved his humanity. He wouldn’t send anyone he didn’t trust completely. “And because he doesn’t know that the vampires . . . concern me,” Cliff went on, looking a little sheepish. “It hasn’t come up, with me working only the day shift.”

  Great. My backup was afraid of what he was supposed to be protecting me from. I pushed out a breath. I would have to make the best of it. “Well, you’re with me. There are no vampires within a few feet of me, okay? We go in, we look, we get out. As long as you stay close, anything that comes at us can die.”

  He nodded, his impassive expression suddenly looking just the tiniest bit relieved. “I’m left-handed,” he offered. “Stay on my right, so I can shoot.”

  I linked arms with him again, tugging him toward the ballroom. “Attaboy.”

  Chapter 12

  The Donatello ballroom—named after the Renaissance painter, not the Ninja Turtle, sadly—had been cordoned off with those retractable walls, so the first room we entered was fairly small. It was obviously a party, with music and chill lighting. There were twenty or so people clustered around some of those stand-up “conversation” tables. I hate those tables, mostly because I am fundamentally very lazy and I want to sit down.

  Scanning the crowd, I recognized a couple of the volunteers, mostly from their clothes, but there were way more people in the room than there had been volunteers on the stage. Then again, the Holmwoods could be handing out invitations on the street, for all I knew. I did recognize Stu from Boise, the contractor who had verified the building supplies. He was chatting and laughing with the way-too-beautiful woman at his elbow, and he looked comfortable as hell. Oh, yeah, she’d pressed him hard.

  I spotted a burly guy with an intricate goatee, guarding the door that separated us from the next ballroom. That would be where the vampires took the humans. Just inside the main entrance, a rectangular table near the wall held glasses of wine and champagne, plus open bottles of what was probably fancy beer. Uniformed caterers circled through the volunteers, offering fancy miniature foods. A few people didn’t seem to be eating or drinking, and I figured they were probably vampires, left out here to keep the crowd calm and happy. As long as I stayed well away from them, I could relax my radius a little.

  I went to the table and picked up a glass of champagne and a bottle of beer, handing the beer to Cliff. “Hold it, don’t drink it,” I murmured. I wouldn’t put it past the vampires to roofie the drinks. Cliff nodded and took the beer with his right hand. “You see the door in the corner?” I said, trying to look casual. “I need to get a look inside. Then we’ll circle back toward the exit. Okay?”

  He nodded again. I got a firm grip on his right elbow and pasted a big smile on my face. Then I reined in my radius as much as I could. “Smile,” I reminded him. “We’re at a party. We’re a little drunk and having a great time.”

  One-second pause, and then Cliff’s face broke out in a warm grin. It was so unlike what I was used to getting from his mouth that I almost told him to stop.

  I made aimless small talk about the show as we sort of promenaded around the edges of the room, skirting the tables with the chatting vampires. One or two of them glanced at us a little uncertainly—who do they belong to?—but they seemed to relax when they noticed our full drinks, maybe figuring us for humans in the know.

  The guy with the fancy goatee didn’t move as we approached. Please be human, please be human, please be human, I thought at him, but I stayed a couple of feet away just in case.

  “Hi, there,” I said brightly, giving him a wink. I fanned myself a little with my entrance ticket. I didn’t want to overdo the pretending-to-be-drunk thing, but I did allow myself to stumble a little. “Listen. I really liked the . . . um, the backup dancer? He was like, kind of tall—”

  “Well, ish,” Cliff put in, picking up the game. “I’d say tallish.”

  “Right, yes, thank you.” I patted him on the chest and turned back to Goatee. “Anyway. He was tallish and hot and stood next to the chick vampire? On her left, I think.” I held up my hands like I was reorienting myself. “Or would that be stage left? I can never remember.”

  “Yeah,” Cliff said, nodding emphatically. “Right.”

  “No, left,” I corrected, and looked at the guard again. The Goateed One was starting to look uncertain. “Anyway, could you see if he’s free and if he, like, wants my number? Or maybe just a little, um, conversation, right here?”

  Goatee looked back and forth between Cliff and me. “Aren’t you guys a couple?”

  “Oh, he likes to watch,” I said brightly, putting an arm around Cliff. I didn’t dare look up at his face. “We’re both very . . . willing. So can we see him?”

  Goatee’s eyes narrowed, though I couldn’t tell if he was suspicious or just unsure about what to do. After a long moment, he said, “Uh, hang on.” He pushed open the door, then paused. “Just stay right there, okay?”

  I nodded with my eyes big, but I was already looking past him to the room beyond. When the guard disappeared, I waited until the door had nearly swung shut before I stopped it with my foot. Leaning forward, I peered through the crack.

  From what I could see, the second ballroom was identical to the first in size, but there was a surprising amount of furniture: couches and armchairs grouped with coffee tables to form little conversation areas. The lights had been dimmed, and the music in there was quieter and subtler than in the first room: something smooth and sexy with lots of cellos. Every sitting area held one or two couples—each consisting of a dazed-looking human and a vampire. And the vampires were eating.

  The movies often depict vampire feedings as this sexy thing, and maybe it is for the victim, if that’s what they’ve been pressed to believe. But for vampires, feeding from humans is a transaction, cold and a little nasty. Sure, you’ll sometimes get the connoisseur who savors his meal, just like with humans, but most of the feedings we could see lacked any sort of art or finesse. It was a simple matter of one person attached to the neck or wrist of another, sucking greedily. And sometimes noisily. The humans, for their part, looked lost and vacant and small. I didn’t see Jameson.

  My hand was still on Cliff’s arm, and I could feel his whole body stiffen with anger. “We should shut this down,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “These people don’t want this.”

  He was probably right, but I shook my head. “They came here of their own free will, and they’re all walking out of here alive and reasonably unharmed. Besides, I’ve got no authority to stop this, even if I could.” I did not mention that I was actually a little relieved. There was something so weird about the Holmwoods and their whole “let’s put it all out there” vibe. Part of me had been afraid they were . . . I don’t know, butchering tourists and hanging their entrails around like Christmas garlands. A roomful of feeding vampires wasn’t easy to look at, but it was also pretty routine, and I had been doing this job for too long to be outraged.

  “That’s bullshit,” Cliff grumbled, but he allowed me to push him gently back from the door. Before I let it swing shut, I saw that Goatee was on his way back, with two men in dark polo shirts behind him. They looked less like vampires and more like security. “Time to go,” I said to Cliff, keeping the smile on my face as I grabbed his elbow an
d pulled him away from the door. The most direct route to the exit was through the cluster of standing tables, so I led him that way, taking long strides and hoping we weren’t walking too fast.

  And then I lost my grip on my radius.

  I’d gotten tired, and the combination of checking the feeding room, concocting an escape route, and keeping my radius cinched in tight was too much to juggle in my brain. I just . . . slipped. Immediately, several vampires at the tables doubled over, struggling with the twin sensations of a beating heart and the need to breathe. I had about five seconds before they recovered and started looking around for the null.

  It would have taken a moment of motionless concentration to gather the radius around me again, so I just walked faster, pulling Cliff along behind me. I was moving too quickly to stop and glance back at the vampires, but I heard urgent yelling behind us, and I could picture them standing up and beginning to follow us, closing off exit routes as we fled, like pack hunters in the wild. I was suddenly very aware of how vulnerable I was if they caught me. I still had my cell phone in Molly’s clutch, but who would I even call for help? There was no one who could get here in time.

  Nearly jogging now, Cliff and I turned out of the ballroom—the vampires popped back out of my radius—and hurried back down the long corridor to the main casino. Cliff took the lead, looking ready to dropkick anyone who got in our way. I could hear footsteps from the hallway we’d just left, getting closer and closer. “Come on,” Cliff shouted over his shoulder, breaking into a run.

  Then someone very big came up behind me, pushing me through an emergency exit door before I could so much as scream.

  Chapter 13

  I hadn’t realized we were anywhere near an exterior wall of the building, but I suddenly found myself in a dim outdoor area, the dry desert breeze blowing loose hair in my eyes so I couldn’t see where I was being forced to go. I stumbled but managed not to drop the clutch as I was pushed along. With a little fumbling, I got out my knife and whirled around with it raised above my head, more or less at the level of the guy’s face. But the man caught my wrist and held my arm above my head. He was damned tall, and I was off-balance as he pushed me until my back slammed against the adobe wall behind me. He pinned my wrist to the wall, and when I tried to punch with my free hand, he caught it and pressed it into the building, too. Now strong hands were holding both my arms in place, and I felt my pulse jump.