“Leave me alone,” he said, a green dust spilling over the rim of the ashtray, then sifting to the floor of the car. “I’ll be fine.”
“You want some pop or anything?”
It wasn’t the right thing to say. In a flurry of motion, Jenks flung the napkin off, flying to an empty cup and throwing up in it, his wings flat against his back as he retched.
“Oh God!” Trent exclaimed. “He’s doing it again.”
“Jenks!” I exclaimed, almost frantic. I mean, when someone throws up, you’re supposed to hold their hair back or make sure nothing hits their shoes, and I was way too big to do either.
“He’s fine,” Trent said so callously that I glared at him. “There’s some honey on the dash. It helps.”
I was ready to smack him, but Vivian handed me the packet, saying, “Flagstaff was really hard. He’ll be okay.”
“I don’t feel so good,” Jenks said, flying wobbly as he got back to his nest.
I shoved the cup in the bag with the rest of the trash, really worried. I knew Jenks tried to hide it, but if he didn’t eat every couple of hours, he suffered. Throwing up could be a big problem. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked as I tore open the packet and set it next to him.
Looking pale, he pulled a pair of chopsticks from his back pocket, nodding. “My head hurts.” Eating a bit, he sighed, slumping to fall back when Vivian stopped at a light. We were right on the Strip, but worried about Jenks, I couldn’t look up to see the sights.
“Better,” he said with a sigh, then gave me a look of clarity before the honey kicked in. “I’ll be okay. Just keep the honey coming.”
I exhaled, relieved. He’d tell me if there was a real problem, wouldn’t he? “Just what we need,” I said, finding a smile. “A drunk pixy in Vegas. We’ll fit right in.”
“Not if I eat it slow enough,” he said, easing back, looking relaxed but worn out. “Crap, now I have to pee.”
My smile turned real, and I looked out the window at the people. I wished I had my camera, but then I’d stick out. Well, stick out more than two witches, a vamp, an elf, and a pixy in a powder blue Buick with Ohio plates already did. But then I saw the pack of Weres trotting down the sidewalk, and I decided we didn’t stick out at all.
“I said, I have to pee,” Jenks said again, louder this time, and I appreciated that he wasn’t going to go in a cup.
Vivian leaned forward as she made a turn. “Hold on. I know a quiet hotel off the Strip.”
“Off the Strip?” Trent complained, and I realized just how this trip was wearing on all of us. “We are
Vivian said nothing as she pulled my mom’s car into a low-budget chain with very little neon on the sign. “We’re not staying,” she said when Trent voiced his disgust. “We’re taking a break, and we’re stopping here because you won’t get past the front desk of one of the big hotels without being recognized.” She turned to him, her childlike face smiling cattily. “You want to be recognized?”
Trent said nothing, and satisfied, she put the car in park at the front office. “You’ve been nothing but a pain in the ass,” she said as she grabbed her purse, just about the only thing she had since we’d kidnapped her. “No wonder Rachel doesn’t like you. I don’t like you, and I like everyone.”
His hand went to his chin, and Trent silently looked out the window, clearly peeved but seeing her logic. Ivy, though, was stirring, putting her boots back on and grabbing her purse.
“Is that Elvis?” I had to ask, seeing a Were in a white leisure suit and gold boots coming out of the office door. The stitching was glowing in the shadows. The man was wearing neon, and he had a Chihuahua in his arms. The dog’s collar was neon, too.
Vivian reached for the door handle, barely glancing at him. “That’s Bob and Chico,” she said shortly. “I lived here before I moved to the coast. Well, not here, exactly, but just outside town. The ley lines are spectacular.”
“Everyone stays here, okay?” she said from outside, looking harassed, a hand on her hip and her clothes rumpled. She hadn’t put on any makeup, and her once-slick hair was more like straw now. It made her trendy purse look like a cheap knockoff. “I’ll get a room and then you can all go get something to eat,” she said, eyes narrowed in annoyance. “I don’t need a bunch of you in the office with me. I can handle this.”
Ivy, of course, was getting out, and Vivian gave her a tired look. “I don’t trust you,” Ivy said with absolutely no remorse or guilt. “No hard feelings.”
“None taken,” the small woman said with the same detachment. “The rest of you stay.”
Jenks’s wings hummed, but he didn’t move from the tissue-lined ashtray. “I gotta pee,” he grumbled, but Vivian had shut the door, and the two walked in together, Vivian looking small next to Ivy’s bruised and battered height.
“I really have to pee,” he said again, this time his eyes beseechingly on mine.
I cranked the window all the way down, and he rose unsteadily into the air. “When did Vivian become everyone’s mother?” I said, and he flew in a wobbling path outside. “Stay close, okay?” I said, noticing that he didn’t have a scrap of red on him.
“Yeah, whatever,” he said, then flew giggling to the sheared rosemary lining the path to the door.
I watched him, unable to stop my sigh. Silence descended, and as the insects buzzed, I became keenly aware of Trent, in the back. He had summoned a demon, not once, but twice. A day-walking demon. He said he’d done it to help. I wanted to believe him, but this had to stop. He wasn’t proficient with magic, and he was doing more harm than good.
Twisting to see Trent, I said, “We need to talk.”
His eye twitched. Without a word, he unlocked his door and pushed it open, his foot catching the heavy door as it bounced back into him. Getting out, he shut the door and leaned against it, his back to me as he looked toward the Strip, a few blocks away.
Peeved, my eyes narrowed. I was too tired right now to push the issue. After I had a burger, I’d pin him to the wall and demand some answers.
Even though we were off the Strip, there was a definite flow of people headed for it, passing us with either a fast pace with loud chatter or silent with a dull drudgery. The high-magic amulet detector on my bag was glaring red, but the lethal-magic one was quiet. Remembering what Vivian had said, I reached for a ley line to see how some little city in the desert stacked up to my Cincinnati.
“Oh my God,” I breathed as the reason for my slight headache became apparent. The ley lines were everywhere, thick, thin, long, and short, crisscrossing in a chaotic mess in every compass direction. It looked like someone had dropped a handful of pickup sticks. Las Vegas was on a damn rift or something, time fractured and barely holding together. Awed, I shook myself from the mental sight of so much power hovering over the desert sand, then promptly sneezed, my hair flying in my face at the quick jerk.
“What are you doing?” Trent asked belligerently as I shuffled through the trunk for my scrying mirror, giving him an insincere smile as I pulled it out.
“You ever use my mirror without my knowledge again, and I’m going to bust it over your head,” I said. “And we are going to talk. We could all have gotten killed back there, or worse. Leave the magic to the professionals. Businessman.”
He frowned as he took in my threat, and he looked like a spoiled brat standing there with his arms over his middle, wearing black from head to toe, a slight flush to his cheeks. Damn, he looked good, though, and I sneezed again as I sat down, leaving my door open for the cross breeze.
Trent turned to watch me set the mirror on my lap, and I shivered as the cold glass seemed to adhere to me, going right through my jeans. The silver-and-wine color threw back the haze of the setting sun, looking more beautiful yet. Another sneeze shook me, and I frowned. Yup, it was Al.
Ignoring Trent as he moved around the car to better spy on me, I put my hand on the scrying mirror in the cave of the pentagram. I connected to one of the smaller lines, and the rest was easy.
