are you?”the kid said.

“Thinkof me as the police. Of a certain kind.”

Thekid bolted for the door, but Julie blocked the way, grabbing his arm,then throwing herself into a tackle. He wasn’t getting away with this,not if she could help it.

Shewasn’t very good at tackling, as it turned out. Her legs tangled withhis and they both crashed to the floor. He flailed, but her weightpinned him down. Somebody was going to take the blame for all this, andit wasn’t going to be her.

Finally,the kid went slack. “It was working,” herepeated.

“Whywould you even try something like this?” she said. “Cheating’sbad enough, but . . . this?” She couldn’t say she understood anythingin the room, the candles or paint or that gargoylish creature. ButGrant didn’t like it, and that was enough for her.

“BecauseI’m underage!” he whined. “I can’t even get into the casino. I neededa disguise.”

“Soyou summoned demon doppelgangers?” Grant asked. Thoughtfully he said,“That’s almost clever. Still—very dangerous.”

“Screwyou!”

“Julie?”Grant said. “Now you can call security.” He pulled the kid out fromunder Julie and pushed him to the wall, where he sat slouching. Grantstood over him, arms crossed, guard-like.

“Yourluck ran out, buddy,” Julie said, glaring at him. She retrieved herphone from her pocket. It worked now, go figure.

Grantsaid, “His luck ran out before he even started. Dozens of casinos onthe Strip, and you picked mine, the one where you were most likely toget caught.”

“You’rejust that stupid stage magician! Smoke and mirrors! What do you knowabout anything?” He slumped like a sack of old laundry.

Grantsmiled, and the expression was almost wicked. The curled lip of a lionabout to pounce. “To perform such summonings as you’ve done here, youmust offer part of your own soul—as collateral, you might think of it.You probably think you’re strong enough, powerful enough, to protectthat vulnerable bit of your soul, defending it against harm. Youthink you can control such monstrous underworld creatures and keep yourown soul—your own self—safe and sound. But it doesn’t matter howprotected you are, you will be marked. These creatures, any otherdemons you happen to meet, will know what you’ve done just by lookingat you. That makes you a target. Now, and forthe rest of your life. Actions have consequences. You’ll discoverthat soon enough.”

Julieimagined a world filled with demons, with bat-wing creatures andslavering dragons, all of them with consciousness, with a sense ofmission: to attack their oppressors. She shivered.

Unblinking,the kid stared at Grant. He’d turned a frightening, pasty white, andhis spine had gone rigid.

Grantjust smiled, seemingly enjoying himself. “Do your research. Everygood magician knows that.”

Juliecalled security, and while they were waiting, the demon-summoning kidtried to set off an old-fashioned smoke bomb to stage an escape, butGrant confiscated it as soon as the kid pulled it from his pocket.

Soonafter, a pair of uniformed officers arrived at the room to handcuff thekid and take him into custody. “We’ll need you to come with us and givestatements,” one of them said to Julie and Grant.

Shepanicked. “But I didn’t do anything wrong. I mean, not really—we werejust looking for the cheater at my blackjack table, and somethingwasn’t right, and Grant here showed up—”

Grantput a gentle hand on her arm, stopping her torrent of words. “We’llhelp in any way we can,” he said.

Shegave him a questioning look, but he didn’t explain.

Theelevators seemed to be working just fine now, she noticed, as they wentwith security to their offices downstairs.

Securitytook the kid to a back room to wait for the Las Vegas police. Grant andJulie were stationed in a stark, functional waiting room, with plasticchairs and an ancient coffee maker. They waited.

Theyonly needed to look at the footage of her breaking into the rooms withGrant, and she’d be fired. She didn’t want to be fired—she liked herjob. She was good at it, as she kept insisting. She caughtcheaters—even when they were summoning demons.

Herfoot tapped a rapid beat on the floor, and her hands clenched intofists, pressed against her legs.

“Everythingwill be fine,” Grant said, glancing sidelong at her. “I have a feelingthe boy’ll be put off the whole idea of spell-casting, moving forward.Now that he knows people are watching him. He probably thought he wasthe only magician in the world. Now he knows better.”

Onecould hope.

Nowthat he’d been caught, she didn’t really care about the kid. “You’ll befired too, you know, once they figure out what we did. You think youcan find another gig after word gets out?”

“Iwon’t be fired. Neither will you,” he said.

They’dwaited for over a half hour when the head of security came into thewaiting room. Grant and Julie stood to meet him. The burly, middle-agedman in the off-the-rack suit—ex-cop, probably—was smiling.

“Allright, you both can go now. We’ve got everything we need.”

Julie stared.

“Thankyou,” Grant said, not missing a beat.

“No,thank you. We never would have caught that kidwithout your help.” Then he shook their hands. And let them go.

Juliefollowed Grant back to the casino lobby. Two hours had passed, for theentire adventure, which had felt like it lasted all day—all day andmost of the night, too. It seemed impossible. It all seemed impossible.

Backat the casino, the noise and bustle—crystal chandeliers glittering, athousand slot and video machines ringing and clanking, a group ofpeople laughing—seemed otherworldly. Hands clasped behind his back,Grant regarded the patrons filing back and forth, the flashing lights,with an air of satisfaction, like he owned the place.

Julieasked, “What did you do to get him to let us go?”

“Theysaw exactly what they needed to see. They’ll be able to charge the kidwith vandalism and destruction of property, and I’m betting if theycheck the video from the casino again they’ll find evidence ofcheating.”

“Butwe didn’t even talk to them.”

“Itold you everything would be fine.”

Sheregarded him, his confident stance, the smug expression, and wonderedhow much of it was a front. How much of it was the picture he wantedpeople to see.

Shecrossed her arms. “So, the kind of magic you do—what kind of mark doesit leave on your soul?”

Hissmile fell, just a notch. After a hesitation he said, “The price isworth it, I think.”

Ifshe were a little more forward, if she knew him better, she’d havehugged him—he looked like he

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