As expected, number 15 didn’t last much longer. The woman, closest to him, shot him a haughty glance, but she was the next to fall. Now it was between Xavier’s sycophant and the blond giant. I was hoping the latter would win, anything to put a hitch in Xavier’s stride, so I shot the man a smile so encouraging a murmur went up from the audience.
That smile, and his responding bid, was enough to finish off Xavier’s man. Applause rolled through the room, and I acknowledged the winning bidder with a tilt of my head, and pivoted, glancing sideways at Xavier as I left the stage. He only rolled his eyes, turning his back as his companion’s paddle fell, and walked away.
“How the fuck am I supposed to follow that?” the next bachelorette grumbled, trudging reluctantly up the stairs as Cher and Madeleine swallowed me in a group bear hug.
“You were awesome! Incredible! Inspiring!”
“Guys…I just stood there,” I fought for breath through the assault of lotion, perfume, hairspray, and breath mints.
“Oh no…Priscilla just stood there.”
“Stood there so long her use-by date expired!”
They gave each other an air high-five and squealed.
“Ladies.” The emcee, an anchorman for one of the local channels, poked his head through the curtain. “Time to meet your bidders. Congratulations on a job well done…and make sure they know we take cash, check, or money order.”
Number 56 made me come to him. There was no meeting me halfway; he just stood as before-watching me skirt around tables, smile at people I was supposed to know, and dodge the woman who’d also been bidding on me-arms folded over his chest expectantly. On second thought, he fit right in with this pretentious crowd. And, I decided, he fit in especially well at Valhalla. Larger up close than he’d appeared from the stage, he had one of those overdefined builds that makes one wonder what exactly he was compensating for, and with the blond hair and gold winking in one earlobe, he was a modern-day Viking…right down to the suddenly avaricious glint in his eyes.
“Congratulations on a fine bid,” I said, shifting my handbag to my left arm as I held out my right. The giant accepted it, dwarfing my palm in his, and drew me in close like it was his right. Tension immediately sprang up in me.
Relax, Jo, I told myself, flashing him a tight smile. Hidden identity or no, I didn’t want to be one of those women who let one little near-death experience scar her forever. Okay, two near-death experiences.
Well, five…but who was counting?
“I’m Olivia,” I said, pulling my hand away. He let it slide from his reluctantly.
“Oh, I know exactly who you are.” And though he smiled, he said it like he really did.
I tilted my head and sniffed. Smell was the strongest of my senses-and for both my allies and my enemies-but right now I scented nothing.
“And you are?” I asked, raising a brow.
“Liam,” he answered, and though I waited for more, that was apparently it.
“Okay,” I said, as cheerily as I could manage. “Well, you have three weeks to claim your…” God, I could barely say it. “Prize. After that the bid is void. You can pay at the front before you leave, and the attendant there will provide my contact information.”
Liam just nodded, that amused expression still touching his face. I mirrored him, nodding back, now straining to keep my smile in place. Time to extricate myself from this social train wreck, and let Mr. Chatty get back to polishing his biceps. I’d just cross my fingers that the next three weeks would pass uneventfully.
“All righty, then. See ya later, Liam.” I turned to head back to the dressing area.
“Good-bye…Archer.”
I froze. Slowly turned. Sniffed again.
And there it was; faint, just a smudge across the pane of my temporal lobe-like memory, but thicker-with edges and hooks that snagged my attention. He let his natural scent intensify, growing so densely cloying I had to breathe through my mouth, and even then the oxygen was round and full, like I could bite it.
My heart thudded in my chest, and I had to fight to keep my own nerves, and scent, from rising to permeate the room. “What do you want?”
Liam’s mouth widened into a full grin. “I want you to want me.”
I thought of the weapon nestled in my bag. Believe me, I wanted him.
“Uh-uh,” he warned, shaking his head as he sensed the direction of my thought. And why not? He was a Shadow. I was an agent of Light. It was only natural to want to kill each other. “Look at all the people, Joanna. Look at the press. ‘Bachelorette Auction Turns into Bloodbath’ would make a terrific headline.”
“You know who I really am.” Though surprised at his use of my real name, I stated it as fact…because the real question was
He smiled in mock sympathy and began that slow head nod again. “Kinda puts a hitch in your five-year plan, doesn’t it?”
I clenched my jaw, but said nothing. Shadows were braggarts, down to the last, and while annoying, it was something I might be able to use to my advantage. Keep him talking, buy enough time to signal Vanessa, and we could corner him and escort him outside to his death. If that failed? I’d shoot him where he stood.
“You’re the first real Shadow I’ve seen face-to-face in a long time,” I began conversationally, though the taunt was spot-on. For some reason our enemies had been lying low for the past six months, a move that spoke of a blanket command. I knew that couldn’t sit well with all the Shadows, and was right in suspecting Liam was one of them. His eyes narrowed, and the air around us warmed, peppery cinders bleeding from his pores. “I mean…you are a real Shadow, aren’t you? Not just some rogue agent looking to score brownie points with the local troop?”
His face tightened. Rogue agents were outcasts looking to usurp their counterparts in a city’s established troop, and nobody on either side of the Zodiac liked to be mistaken for what essentially amounted to a paranormal mutt. “I’m more real,” he said through clenched teeth, “than most of the breasts in this room.”
“Prove it,” I said, shooting an unconcerned glance around the room. I didn’t see Vanessa anywhere. “What raids have you led lately?”
As expected, he was anxious to brag. “I was responsible for the showgirls held hostage at the top of the Trop at the beginning of the year.”
“That was you?” I feigned interest, having caught sight of Vanessa near a tray of crab cakes, and he nodded while I waited for her to turn. “Not very original.”
The smile dropped. “I also devised the implosion of the new Cirque showroom.”
That’d been two months earlier, a paranormal prank that’d spilled hundreds of gallons of water out and onto the Strip. “We should’ve let that one go.” I shrugged philosophically.
“Cleanup was a bitch, was it?” he said, referring to the lengths we’d had to go to keep the entire event from mortal notice.
“Not really,” I said, shrugging. Vanessa had turned my way to grab a champagne flute from a passing waiter. Now all I had to do was catch her eye. “But we don’t need another fucking Cirque show in this town.”
“Okay, then.” He licked his lips, provoked. “How about the theft of the mayor’s gin back in March?”
He smiled when an involuntary twinge shuddered up my spine. The mayor and his damned martinis. The entire city’s coffers had nearly gone to the first person to come up with a bottle of Tanqueray. “That was a close one,” I had to admit.
His arrogance returned. “So. Been taking many photographs lately, Joanna? ‘Raising awareness of the homeless and displaced through your art,’” he quoted, and it was my turn to stiffen. Those words had been in my obituary six months earlier. “But Olivia doesn’t take photos, does she? Though plenty are taken of her.”
I feigned a yawn, like his words-and knowledge-didn’t matter. “I’ve been kinda busy lately. You know. Saving Las Vegas from evil beings bent on chaos and destruction.”
“You mean tourists?” Liam grinned at my unamused stare. “Wouldn’t it be so much easier to protect these mortals if it weren’t for the whole ‘free will’ thing?”
“Forgive me if I don’t get into the moral responsibility of promoting individual choice with a guy who takes his orders from an evil overlord.”
“An overlord, I should remind you, who’s also your father.”
People just loved to throw that in my face.
“So is that why you’re here? Dear ol’ Dad send you to convince me to turn to the dark side of the force?” I
