'It's not funny,' Marlowe said, unfolding his napkin.
'Hey, wait! I got a thousand of them! How about the-' Thankfully, the heavy cotton folds of the napkin cut the thing off before I kicked it across the room.
Deino approached our table with a toothless grin. 'Birt' Day!' she said, beaming at me. I started in surprise: they were the first English words I'd heard her use, and it was obvious that she was proud of herself. I might have been more admiring if she hadn't followed her greeting by plopping a bucket of bloody entrails on the table right under my nose.
I looked at Marlowe fearfully. 'Please tell me that isn't-”
'It's not human,' he said, wrinkling up his nose. 'Cow, I think.”
Pemphredo plopped a newspaper full of casino chips onto the table beside her sister's gift. None were the red and blue ones I use: most were black, with a few five-hundred-dollar purple ones scattered about here and there. I counted more than four thousand dollars at just a glance. I closed my eyes in despair-all I needed were the human police after me, too. Not to be outdone, Enyo placed a large three-tiered cake beside the other two gifts. It was covered in something slimy and green, which I guessed was supposed to be icing. I decided not to ask why it smelled like pesto.
Deino dumped the remaining pina colada out of my coconut shell and filled it with a generous measure of blood and guts. She shoved it under my nose and beamed at me. 'Birt' Day!”
I managed not to gag. 'Why are they doing this?' I asked Marlowe, who was looking almost as disgusted as I felt. Vamps don't drink animal blood. It does nothing for them and many find it actually repugnant.
'As a guess? They are making an offering. In the ancient world, blood sacrifices were common. If I were you, I'd be grateful they aren't slicing up a virgin on the table. Perhaps they couldn't find one in Vegas.”
'Ha, ha. What am I supposed to do with-' That was as far as I got. If I hadn't been so grossed out, I'd have noticed earlier that zombie Elvis had stopped singing halfway through a lackluster rendition of 'All Shook Up' and was now trying to climb down from the stage.
Marlowe was on his feet. 'We have to get rid of the bucket!”
I looked around at the close-packed tables full of clueless tourists. 'How?”
Elvis scattered the handful of security types who had rushed forward and lurched toward our table. His eyes were no longer dull, but were filled with a burning hunger as they zeroed in on the bloody bucket. Then one of the guards with more muscle than sense grabbed him by the shoulder and tried to whirl him around. All he succeeded in doing was knocking the toupee the rest of the way off, revealing the top of an exposed brain. I guessed the voodoo types Casanova kept on staff had been a little overworked after the recent raid and had skimped on the repair work. That probably hadn't been a good business decision.
The sight of a gray-faced, slack-jawed zombie glowering from under a pulsing, bloody brain pretty much tore it for the people at nearby tables. Several of them let out screams, and they collectively knocked over chairs and one another in the stampede to get away. Other customers, who were too far back to get the full effect, began clapping, assuming that this was part of the night's entertainment. I wondered whether they'd still think so after Elvis downed the appetizer and started looking for a main course.
'Cassie!' Dimly, like an echo of an echo, I heard Billy's voice. I looked around but couldn't see him anywhere in the pandemonium.
Marlowe tugged me backwards, but my equilibrium hadn't returned and I lost my footing. I clutched at the table, trying to steady myself, while Elvis got a grip on the bucket's handle. Deino screeched and grabbed her offering, starting a furious tug of war. It slopped blood all over the tabletop, which was only a circle of glass perched on top of a grinning tiki head. Clots of coagulating blood spattered Francoise's beautiful dress and I instinctively grabbed a napkin to wipe them off but was stopped by an angry vampire.
'Forget that!' Marlowe gave me a little shake. 'We have to get out of here!”
I gestured at the flood of mages who'd started pouring in the door. Ours wasn't the only cavalry to have come charging over the hill. 'How?' I screamed.
'Can't you shift?'.
The realization hit me that there was no longer any reason not to use my power. Whether I liked it or not, I was Pythia. I nodded, but before I could get an image of the street outside the casino, I heard Billy's voice again, and he sounded desperate. 'Billy! Get in here!”
'What is it?' Marlowe demanded.
'Be quiet!' It was hard enough to hear as it was, without him bellowing in my ear. Billy had said something else, but I'd missed it. 'Billy! I can't hear you!”
'Don't shift! I'm stuck.”
'He says he's stuck,' I told Marlowe, just as the blonde got loose from her keeper and jogged over to be nearer her idol. A guard intercepted her, and in her struggle to get away she knocked into me. I lost my footing and went down just as a fireball from one of the mages sizzled overhead, barely missing me and setting Marlowe's doublet ablaze on its way to destroy the tiki bar. He had the garment off faster than I could blink, then looked around frantically for somewhere to dispose of it safely. Magical fire burns like phosphorus, so the options were kind of limited. He solved the problem by whipping it back the way it had come, where it sizzled out against the mage's shields.
Marlowe didn't appear injured, but his fangs were out and his eyes were furious. 'It's going to get very hot around here very soon, Cassie. I can't think of a better time to make our exit. The ghost can catch up with us later.”
Billy must have overheard, because he began babbling like crazy. I couldn't make out most of what he was saying, but I got the gist. 'Billy says not to shift.”
Marlowe looked incredulous, but my expression must have warned him not to argue. 'Stay here. I'll arrange something,' he said abruptly before vanishing in a blur of color.
I was left huddled under the table to escape the stampeding crowd. Through the transparent tabletop I could see that the female fan had finally fought her way to her idol, a look of devotion on her features. I could only assume that she was drunk or legally blind, because the object of her affection was looking pretty damn scary. The glowing eyes, pulsing brain and salivating mouth didn't seem to register with her, however, and she lunged for him just as Deino gave a mighty heave and ripped the bucket away. The force of the movement caused the contents to splash all over the woman, drenching her from head to foot and leaving what looked like a piece of liver wedged in her cleavage.
She screamed, which was the worse possible reaction, because it got the zombie's attention. It ignored Deino, who was yelling in an unknown language and repeatedly clouting it over the head with the empty bucket. Instead, it dove for the gory girl.
Casanova was trying to evacuate the lounge and direct the fight away from the remaining norms. 'Get the damn bocors in here!' I heard him bellow, just as three security men threw themselves on Elvis. He went down on the blood-slick floor barely a yard away from me, with the woman underneath him. Wherever the voodoo workers who usually controlled the acts were, it didn't look like they'd be quick enough to prevent her from becoming a midnight snack for the King.
'Help her!' I screamed at the Graeae. Enyo didn't need to be told twice. In a blink she switched from old-lady mode to her alter ego, covered in her own blanket of blood. It's supposed to contain remnants of every enemy she'd ever slaughtered, and either the variety or sheer amount got the zombie's attention. He dragged himself to his feet, despite having three security guards hanging off him. He didn't let go of the woman, but tucked her under his arm and stumbled after his new prey.
At a frantic look from me, Pemphredo snatched the girl and shoved her at Deino before jumping on the zombie's back. He gave a very nonmusical hiss when she started digging in his open cranium, tossing out handfuls of bloody brains. Enyo stayed just out of reach, leading the stumbling creature on a zigzag course through the tables, while her sister continued the impromptu lobotomy.
Marlowe appeared at my elbow, hair wild and pantaloons scorched, but otherwise unharmed. I grabbed his shirt with both hands. 'Tell me you have a plan!”
“There's a trapdoor under the stage, we just have to make sure none of the mages see us go through it.”
I didn't think that would be an issue. The zombies were a little short on fighting technique, but they made up for it in resilience. As Marlowe spoke, a mage thrust his arm completely through our waiter's abdomen, but
