City of Souls

expected, but the aftertaste washed away with the next cooling sip. I took another and studied the rest of the room. “So why is everyone moving so slowly?”

Bill shot me that affable smile. “Maybe you’re just moving too fast.”

My movements, natural though they were, did make me stand out. While most of the men had returned to their games, their movements were molasses-slow. Others continued to stare at me, unblinking, and lifting cut crystal glassware to their lips or murmuring to themselves in unending monologues. I could practically track their gazes as they swung my way. Shit, UPS could have tracked them. And one man-black Stetson low, leather vest extended over his giant belly, dark eyes hard on mine-didn’t move at all.

The piano player might be catatonic, I thought, sipping again, but the rest of the room wasn’t far behind.

Except for upstairs. I lifted my eyes back to the women lounging against the banister, and as if she’d been anticipating it, the first began making her way down the stairs.

A world ruled by women.

And one of those rulers was headed my way.

10

Her pace was normal, but calculated. A deeply tanned hand, bejeweled with heavy rings and shimmering red nails, trailed along the carved railing. I’d have described her clothes as old-fashioned, and matching the western decor, except that even to my untrained eye they possessed a modern sensibility.

Though her jade silk dress had a high neck and button front, it was embellished with a cinched leather sash, to match the black stockings and ankle boots. Her body was liquid beneath the shifting silk skirts, her face heart- shaped below dark hair and curls I’d last seen on Little House on the Prairie. Deep- stained rosebud lips were turned upward in a secret smile, and diamonds as big as my thumbnails sat like flat pancakes at her earlobes. Her gold chain would have been more at home in a rap video than a western flick, with an inverted horseshoe that actually shot sparks of light from its diamond facets, as if tiny disco balls were reeling inside. It seemed she was mocking her own disguise, poking fun at the era while taking part in it.

She paused at the last stair, a predator’s smile on her budding lips, before jumping to the ground floor, both booted feet landing with a hard thwack. There was a collective inhalation as the room shot to life, suddenly brighter. A black man grinned the biggest, most beautifully blinding smile I’d ever seen, his ashy hue leached away. An Asian guy ran a hand over thick silky hair as he turned his head, thankfully, toward the heavens. The man who’d stared so unblinkingly at me now had his eyes shut in relief, and I didn’t blame him. The air was suddenly alive, like a cooling breeze had swept through the building, and I wasn’t as thirsty as I’d been even a moment earlier.

The fans directly above us stilled, punctuating the silence, and the woman reached for a gaunt man at the nearest table, her left hand a sinuous ribbon around his neck as she pulled him from his chair. She pretended not to notice when he shuddered, dragging him along as she advanced upon me. Though I felt color and sensation and life washing off of her in waves, I took advantage of my quicker movements to grasp her left wrist before it fell to my arm.

I didn’t care how dead sexy and life-affirming she was, nobody touched me without permission.

The surprised dulcet tones of the women above told me I’d done something unexpected. I decided to keep on doing it.

“There’s a man,” I said without preamble.

“There’s always a man.” She smiled. I tightened my hold.

“This one came from my world.” And killed a child in doing so.

“I know the lantern.”

That didn’t make sense to me, but I flagged that information for later too. “I need to find him.”

Her eyes skirted to the board. “His name?”

“Jaden Jacks.” I gave it freely. What did I care if they possessed, and used, the name of a Shadow?

“Don’t know him,” she said, too quickly, snatching her hand away. She held it out. The man rubbed it for her. “Why don’t you ask Mackie?”

I glanced over at the comatose piano player. Yeah. He looked like he was going to be a big help.

“And what’s your name again, honey? I didn’t quite catch it the first time.” She leaned toward me, dragging the man with her, though he only blew errant tendrils from his comb-over in a grateful sigh. Her breath was light, like sugar wafers. “Whisper it in my ear and I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

“Diana,” Bill warned, gaze darting between us as he continued polishing glasses. They were all as elaborate as the one I held, shot through with refracted color now that Diana had gifted us with her presence. Mine was golden with a hint of emerald. As for Bill, Diana’s arrival on the bottom floor had neither enhanced nor diminished him in any way.

“Shut up, Bill,” the gaunt man said, languishing beneath Diana’s arm. She laughed brightly, the sound accompanied by a fresh wave of breathable sugar.

“Yes, Bill. Do shut up,” she said, batting lacquered lashes. “I just want to know her name.”

The rest of the bar was quiet, their interest a tight pressure against my back. Diana’s mouth twitched. I gave her a perfunctory smile. “It’s Olivia.”

She pushed from the bar so quickly the room seemed to tilt with her. The man stumbled, and I stepped away. Diana studied my poster, my face, and the poster again. No name, I realized. Not even the beginnings of one. I was telling the truth, though not the true truth, so the information wasn’t being recorded on the wall. She took another step backward, and because the vitality in my own breast seemed to recede with her, I had no idea whether I preferred that she stay or go.

Or what I preferred less, I mused.

She did go, finally, turning her back amid the groans and pleas of those in the room, the man she’d left next to me looking close to tears. Diana ignored them all. And as soon as one booted heel hit the staircase, the color in the room snapped off like a light. Heat flooded back in. Breathing was instantly laborious. The fans above us started their slow spin once again, and the women giggled behind palms and fringed fans. A heat haze rolled off the red door in invisible waves. What the hell was behind that thing?

“You could have played along. Bought us time.” I glanced over my shoulder. The giant man wearing the black Stetson had resumed his original position, arms folded over his great belly, eyes indistinguishable beneath the low hat brim. He was sweating profusely, beads rolling down his neck to disappear beneath the vest.

“Why don’t you offer up your name, then?”

“I have. Freely. It’s Harlan Tripp.”

I frowned, and because the name was vaguely familiar, asked, “Do you know Jacks?”

Tripp scoffed. “Honey, you want information in the Rest House, you gotta play for it.”

“No,” called a woman from above. She was black, wiry, and tough, and her scent was as heavy and cloying on the air as the drink in my glass. “Don’t waste time with the boys. Come on up here. I promise we won’t bite.”

“I make no promises,” said a blonde with brows plucked so severely she looked permanently surprised. Spicy this time, with a bitter aftertaste.

“Leave her alone, girls. She’ll come when she’s ready.”

This voice was liquid, thick and smooth. A shaft of light split the wall opposite the other women, a door opening enough to allow a single silhouette passage. And this scent, minty rose with a creamy heart, had me nearly lifting to my toes. I tried to inhale more, and glanced around to find every man in the room trying to do the same. Yearning blanketed every face, and most eyes had fallen half shut. The women, though not that far gone, were silent and nodding at one another. The first, smoky-skinned and dark eyes, turned away with a smile. “Yes, she’ll come.”

Don’t be lulled…don’t be intimidated.

Easy for Vanessa to say, I thought, swallowing hard. All she had was a thin myth, and a matriarchal legacy and culture, to guide her. I was suddenly face-to-face with that myth…face-to-face with Bill.

“Can I get a credit limit?” I asked him, pleased when his brows winged in surprise. He’d expected me to follow the voice upstairs. But I needed to find out about Jacks, and the women only seemed interested in playing mental games. At least with poker I knew the rules.