happen?”
“Not personally.”
He arched a brow as if his point had been proven. “Nobody changes two days in a row. My actors work in shifts, trading out the human roles, and the show is dark two days a week. We know what we’re doing. We’ve been at it for a while.”
In other words, trust him, he’s a professional. I couldn’t get past the feeling that this was all. . . weird. Exploitative, maybe. Like a freakshow. Which begged the question, “What gave you the idea to get your were-tiger buddies together and stage a show in Vegas?”
His smile turned sly, back to his romance-cover-model look. “We had inspiration. You don’t think we’re the first to do this, do you? This sort of thing’s been going on for thousands of years.”
“Some of those dancing bears at the carnival might not have been bears, is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m saying some of those bears absolutely weren’t bears. Ah, here’s someone who wants to meet you.” He turned back to look.
The tiger stalked toward me from behind the curtain. Gaze focused, it moved with purpose, striding without a sound.
I’d seen tigers in the zoo. Maybe not up close, but close enough, and they were big animals. Intellectually, I knew this wasn’t as big as a real tiger. It seemed maybe two hundred pounds. But even a small tiger was plenty big enough for me. He still came up to my waist, and his paws looked like they could bat me to the floor in a heartbeat, without effort.
I stood my ground. Kept my shoulders back and let him know I wasn’t afraid of him. He didn’t show any aggression. No bared teeth or raised hackles, nothing that indicated he wanted a fight or thought I was here looking for a fight. He had to sense what I was. He had to smell the lycanthropy on me. Heck, he had to smell the anxiety.
He kept moving toward me, until I could feel the heat from his body, then at the last moment he turned and bumped my thigh with his shoulder. He rubbed the whole length of his body against me, his tail curling. Then I realized: he smelled like Nick. This was Nick, who’d given me the tickets. We’d already met.
Turning around, he rubbed his other side against me and tilted his head to look up at me with bright gold eyes. He looked like a giant kitten who wanted to play.
Tentative, I touched the top of his head, behind an ear. He butted my hand encouragingly, so I started petting him. His coat was thick and silky. I brushed my fingers through it. He closed his eyes and seemed positively blissful. I smiled. He was just a big friendly cat. Until I thought about petting the human Nick like this. I curled my hands up and drew them to my sides. The tiger actually looked disappointed, blinking up at me.
“You’ve met Nick, I think,” Balthasar said.
“I guess I have,” I said.
Two more animals approached, ducking from behind Balthasar and darting forward. Two of the leopards, only slightly smaller than Nick the tiger. Like the tiger, their tails were flicking, their ears up, and they practically ran into me, smoothing their coats along my legs.
“And these are?”
“Sanjay and Avi,” he said.
I now had three big cats pinning me to the wall, straining for my attention as they butted their heads against me and flicked their tails.
“I’m not entirely sure I’m comfortable here,” I said. I was having trouble seeing which tails and paws went with which cat, as they writhed around each other in their efforts to get to me, orange and yellow fur, stripes and spots, all blending together. At least they weren’t fighting.
“I told you they’d like you.”
This must have been what it felt like to be surrounded by toddlers. I tried to extricate myself from the mob, distracted by their pawing. Wolf was bristling.
“You should come back and meet them after they’ve rested.”
“I think I might.”
“We have our own suite here in the hotel. On the eighth floor. Follow your nose.” He touched Nick on the shoulder. “Come on, guys. She’ll visit later. Have a good afternoon, Kitty.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
All three cats glanced at me one last time before turning to follow Balthasar farther backstage.
That was awfully surreal.
By the time I wandered out of the theater, the lobby was empty, the box office shut up for a break before the evening show. The place took on a surprisingly peaceful atmosphere, almost like it was sleeping. I wandered into the lobby, gaze inward, relishing the calm. I wasn’t expecting to see a figure leaning against the wall near the box office, waiting. Maybe I should have been.
Odysseus Grant managed to look like he was on his way to a formal dinner party or the Oscars, even offstage, even in the middle of the day. He wasn’t wearing a tux this time, but his dark trousers were tailored, with a perfect crease, and his white shirt was crisp, even with the collar open and sleeves rolled up. He straightened from the wall when he saw me.
I stopped. “Are you stalking me?”
“It does seem that way, doesn’t it?”
We were in a public place. He couldn’t make me disappear. I couldn’t let him intimidate me.
“May I ask why?” I said, annoyed.
Grant nodded toward the theater. “It’s intriguing, isn’t it? It’s less a trained-animal show than a dance.”
“Yeah. Kind of,” I said. “When you know what to look for. Otherwise it looks like magic. Kind of like your act.”
His smile lasted the length of a blink. “Balthasar has certainly taken an interest in you.”
“What’s your problem with him? Why the warning? It seems like they’re just my kind of people—lycanthropes using their abilities to make their way in the world. Turning lemons into lemonade and all that.”
His expression revealed nothing. It was his stage face. “One wonders how a wolf would do in an act like that.”
Not well, I’d guess. “I’m not looking for another career. I have enough shameless exhibitionism in the one I have. Why are you so interested in what happens to me?”
“Balthasar, his people—they’re not what they seem.”
“Look, instead of a vague warning why can’t you just
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said.
Exasperated, I flung my arms and shouted, “I’m a freaking werewolf! Try me!”
He was already turning away to leave.
He was trying to raise more questions about the performers in Balthasar’s show. Where did they come from? Why no wolves? If I wanted to be smug I’d say wolves were too smart to put up with that sort of thing. But wolves were more pack driven than cats and should have been naturals for a group like this. They were also wilder. I’d never heard of a trained wolf in a circus. There are no wolves in Vegas, Dom said, because it wasn’t wild enough.
What I really needed to do about all this was a bunch of research: dig up biographies, figure out where Grant learned his trade, trace Balthasar back and try to learn when he’d been infected with lycanthropy, when he started his show, and if anyone had ever guessed his secret. All that would require a stack of old newspapers, a few hours with a microfiche machine, an Internet connection, and all that good old-fashioned detective work. I was supposed to be on vacation. I was supposed to be getting married.
I decided to let it go. Whatever was going on here, whatever animosity existed between Grant and Balthasar, had started long before I got here and would most likely continue after, no matter what I did about it. Which meant it could all wait until I got back home, and I needed material for the show during a slow week.
Just this once, curiosity was not going to get this Kitty.
I had a sudden urge to see Ben. I wanted his smell in my lungs.
With only a couple of hours left before our appointment at the chapel, I went back to the room to shower and change. I had my dress, a kicky, sexy number with a short skirt and high heels. A dress that screamed
The rest of the night would be mine. Mine and Ben’s. I could relax. I could get married. Forget about all the weirdness. I could just be a normal person, at least for a few hours. Be a giddy newlywed.
Six was fast approaching. I’d changed into my spiffy new dress, and I looked
“Hello?” I said, and my voice squeaked.
“Is this Kitty Norville?” said an unfamiliar male voice.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“I’m Detective Mike Gladden. I’m with the Las Vegas Police Department. Do you know Ben O’Farrell?”
My stomach dropped, my spine froze, and a million nightmare scenarios played out in my mind. What had happened to him? I shouldn’t have let him go, I should have pitched a fit, I should have—
“What’s happened?” I said. I hoped my voice sounded steady and not terrified. It seemed to take forever for Gladden to answer. All I could hear was my breathing until he spoke.
“Ma’am, Mr. O’Farrell has disappeared.”
Chapter 12
I arrived at the Olympus casino’s security offices in ten minutes. Less. Time had gone a bit wonky, moving both too fast and too slow. The elevator dragged. But part of me didn’t want to get there at all. I didn’t want to find out what had happened.
When I came through the door, a G-man-looking guy in a suit intercepted me and stared at me like I’d turned green.
I had to catch my breath before I could speak. “Hi, I’m Kitty Norville, I just spoke on the phone with Detective Gladden about Ben O’Farrell.”
He was good-looking, in the way of a polished twenty-something on the way up in his chosen profession. He also seemed to be practicing his intimidating stare. I tried to read in his expression what had happened, what he knew about Ben, but the glare revealed nothing. I braced myself and didn’t wilt.
“Detective Gladden asked me to come answer some questions,” I insisted.
Finally, he spoke. “I’ll let him know you’re here. Wait just a minute.”
