Shesaid, “It really happened, didn’t it? The thing with the hallway? The. . . the thing . . . and the other . . .” She moved her arms in agesture of outstretched wings. “Not smoke and mirrors?”
“Itreally happened,” he said.
“Howdo you do that? Any of it?” she said.
“That,”he said, glancing away to hide a smile, “would take a very long time toexplain.”
“Iget off my second shift at eleven,” she said. “We could grab a drink.”
Shereally hadn’t expected him to say yes, and he didn’t. But he hesitatedfirst. So that was something. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I don’tthink I can.”
Itwas just as well. She tried to imagine her routine, with a guy likeOdysseus Grant in the picture . . . and, well, there’d be no such thingas routine, would there? But she wasn’t sure she’d mind a drink, and alittle adventure, every now and then.
“Well,then. I’ll see you around,” she said.
“Youcan bet on it,” he said, and walked away, back to his theater.
Herbreak was long over and she was late for the next half of her shift.She’d give Ryan an excuse—or maybe she could get Grant to makean excuse for her.
Shewalked softly, stepping carefully, through the casino, which had notyet returned to normal. The lights seemed dimmer, building shadowswhere there shouldn’t have been any. A woman in a cocktail dress andimpossible high heels walked past her, and Julie swore she had glowingred eyes. She did a double take, staring after her, but only saw herback, not her eyes.
Atone of the bars, a man laughed—and he had pointed teeth, fangs,where his cuspids should have been. The man sitting with him raised hisglass to drink—his hands were clawed with long, black talons. Julieblinked, checked again—yes, the talons were still there. The man musthave sensed her staring, because he looked at her, caught her gaze—thensmiled and raised his glass in a salute before turning back to hiscompanion.
Shequickly walked away, heart racing.
Thiswasn’t new, she realized. The demons had always been there, part of anunderworld she had never seen because she simply hadn’t been looking.Until now.
Andonce seen, it couldn’t be unseen.
Theblackjack dealer returned to the casino’s interior, moving slowly,thoughtfully—warily, Grant decided. The world must look so muchdifferent to her now. He didn’t know if she’d adjust.
Heshould have made her stay behind, right from the start. But no—hecouldn’t have stopped her. By then, she’d already seen too much. He hada feeling he’d be hearing from her again, soon. She’d have questions.He would answer them as best he could.
Onthe other hand, he felt as if he had an ally in the place, now. Anotherperson keeping an eye out for a certain kind of danger. Anotherperson who knew what to look for. And that was a very odd feelingindeed.
Somebelieve that magic—real magic, not the tricks that entertainersplayed on stage—is a rare, exotic thing. Really, it isn’t, if you knowwhat to look for.
WhatHappened to Ben in Vegas
THE PAIR OF THUGS cornered Ben outside the men’s room.
Hisfirst thought: Kitty’s paranoia was rubbing off on him. Then: Damn, shewas right all along.
Hespotted the type right off and knew they were up to no good. Latetwenties, bulky, hired muscle. Suits, no ties. Slicked back hair. Oneof them was the lookout: back to the wall, scanning the area. His handnever moved very far from his waistband—within easy reach of the gunholstered under the jacket. The other one got in Ben’s face.
“Heythere,” he said, pressing close, herding him to the wall, moving himaway from the crowd. His breath smelled of mint and cigarettes. Hisaccent was some flavor of New York City.
Bendidn’t bother responding. Nothing he could say would change what wasabout to happen. He did think about telling them they had the wrongguy. A flare of anger, a thread of pissed-offedness, made him stand hisground. Match the guy’s stare, and not blink.
Theheavy was about the same height. He tried looking down on Ben, but itdidn’t work.
“Friendof ours wants to talk to you,” the guy said.
Ben’snose flared, taking in the guy’s aftershave, the scent of gun oil. Theodor of seedy bars and backroom shakedowns.
“Why?”Ben said, wondering if it sounded like a growl. He wanted to growl, butthat would be a bad idea.
Thethug, the talker, opened his suit jacket briefly to show the guninside, in the shoulder holster. “No arguments.”
“Hecouldn’t just call me?” Ben said. Arguing. The flame inside wasgrowing. He was getting angry, and a beast with claws was waking up.
The thug put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him. “Come on. Walknormal. Don’t draw attention.” The lookout led them to a side hallway.
God,he really was being kidnapped out of a Vegas casino.
“What happens if Iknock you down and shout right now? You goingto shoot me?”
“Maybenot. But we may find a way to draw a bead on that pretty little girl ofyours.”
Thatshut him up. They moved out of sight of the poker room and the maincasino floor. Empty corridor now, and straight ahead to a set of doorsleading to the outside. The lookout was still scanning, ready to jumpat a sign of trouble. Ben could almost hear his body quivering. His ownescort was steady, methodical, and kept his anxiety tamped down. A pro.Didn’t make Ben feel any better.
“Howdoes this friend of yours even care about me?” he asked.
Thethug gave a sly smile. “He had a game going. Pretty good game. His boyshad a system and would have cleaned up. But you ratted them out. You’vemade yourself a person of interest. Congratulations.”
Somuch for being a good citizen.
“Youcan’t do this,” he said, realizing it was a stupid thing to say. Theycertainly could do this. They had. Ben could whine all he wanted—theystill had the guns. But were the bullets silver? Did he risk gettingshot in the back on the streets of Vegas to prove a theory?
“I’mgetting married in a couple of hours.” As if that kind of argumentheld any weight with people like this.
“Ifshe really
