Games Demons Play (Mystic Isle, Book 3) (5 page)

“Mystic Isle.”

Oh hell.

About an hour after Shade excused himself
there was another knock at the door. They were so polite. Something
told her that Pierre was — what was it Avery said? Old school?
Old-fashioned?

“Yes?”

“Mademoiselle, I have your clothes.”

Izzy pushed away from the headboard and
strode to the door. “Thank you.” She took the clothes and smiled up
at him. He reminded her of a grandfather. Old. Gray. Kind.

But not feeble. His vampire strength must
give him that.

“Shade has told me you plan to leave us.”

She nodded. “I must go to Mystic Isle.”

“Oh?”

Her grin widened. He sounded slightly
scandalized. Surely he’d had sex in his life. “It is not what you
think. I need to win money to pay a debt.”

“At the casino.”

“At the poker tournament this weekend.”

His salt-and-pepper eyebrows rose.

“What is it?” she asked, folding her arms
over her chest. When would men stop underestimating her?

“I — nothing, mademoiselle. Do you need a
ride to the airport? Do you have a flight?”

Izzy had spent the last half hour trying to
flash
from one side of the room to the other. So far she’d
managed to fall off the bed.

“Have you ever been?”

“To Mystic Isle?” He sounded scandalized
again.

“
Da.
”

“Once.”

“Then you know it is a long flight.” One she
did not have time or money for. Maybe Coco could — Wait. If he’d
been there before, he could
flash
there again. Izzy pasted
on her sweetest, most innocent smile. “I need your help.”

Five minutes later, Izzy was dressed and had
run a comb through her hair. Her trademark black eye-liner and ruby
lipstick were notably missing. But her appearance didn’t matter at
this point.

She plucked her well-worn deck of cards from
the dresser and shoved them into the rear pocket of her jeans,
still warm from the drier.

She soaked in the heat and stepped toe-to-toe
with Pierre. “You are sure this will work?”

“It’s how I learned, mademoiselle. Hold on to
me.” He held out his hands and she took them.

She crossed her fingers, prayed that this
worked. Closing her eyes she visualized the soft white sand, the
pale moonlight, the thick green jungle, and so far away.

“We’ll land at the airport,” he murmured. She
felt light. Not quite herself.

“I hope
theese
works,” she replied
softly and squeezed her eyelids even tighter.

There was a moment of weightlessness, a cool
breeze, and then warmth. Humidity. Salty air.

She cracked open her left eye. The small
airport sat before her, runway lights ablaze. She’d made it.

She squeezed Pierre’s hands. “Thank you!” She
repeated the words in Russian, then French. It wasn’t enough. She
launched herself at him and hugged tight.

He chuckled. “Be careful, mademoiselle. Shade
would have my head if anything happened to you.”

She’d pulled away and searched his face.
“Why?”

The old man gave an elegant shrug. “He seems
protective over you for some reason.”

That made no sense. He had no reason to feel
that way. They hardly knew each other. Though, her debt to him was
mounting. Perhaps she could win enough to buy him something nice. A
watch, perhaps.

“Thank you again.”

“If you need anything else, mademoiselle…” He
held out a folded sheet of paper.

She unfolded it and found his number on it.
Beneath that, the name and address for the mechanic that had
Gorgeous. “Tha —”

He
flashed
.

“Miss?”

She turned to see one of Mystic Isle’s
employees eying her curiously.

“You will take me to casino? Please.” She
smiled through her nervousness. This would work.

“One of the limos has just returned,” the
woman said, waving her hand toward the long black car.

Izzy smiled her thanks and headed toward the
handsome driver. Another time, without the image of Gorgeous upside
down and brutalized in her mind, she would have considered seducing
him. Tall, dark-haired with intense silver-gray eyes. She could
have licked him from head to toe. But the spark of attraction
wasn’t there.

The drive was very familiar, but this time
she did not indulge in the minibar. The road wound through the
mountains and then back down to the coast. Biting back a squeal of
excitement, she leaned against the window and stared out at the
lush landscape. With Pierre’s help, she’d actually made it.
Hopefully Shade wouldn’t be too upset. Maybe Pierre would not tell
him.

Another impulse on her part, but she had a
good feeling. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel
like she was missing something. Looking for something that eluded
her. A peaceful calm enveloped her. And then excitement took over.
She was good at the cards. She just needed to stay focused.

Her cell phone vibrated in her back pocket.
She retrieved it and saw Coco’s name on the small screen. “I am
already here,” she said by way of greeting.

“Are you okay? Avery and Ceara told me what
happened. He didn’t try to take advantage of you, did he?”

“Shade? No.” In fact, he’d been a perfect
gentleman. She frowned, unsure she’d ever met someone quite like
that—

“I thought his name was Pierre?” Coco
inserted.

“Pierre is his, I do not know. Butler? He
dries clothes and makes beds. Shade is the man, the demon, who
saved me.”

There was a lengthy pause.

“Where are you?”

“Mystic Isle.”

“And how do you plan to win that much money,
chérie
? Roulette?”

Izzy heard the worry in her friend’s voice.
She did not mean to make Coco worry. “There is a tournament this
week.”

“A Poker Tournament? But you don’t play poker
anymore.”

Izzy was well aware of that fact. Another
moment of impulse gone wrong, but that was in the past. This was
now. She was smarter now. She was not trying to impress a silly
boy. Now she was making restitution.

“I will keep my clothes on this time,” she
promised.

“Come home and let me give you the
money.”

“I cannot.” Though that would not be a bad
backup plan. “It is my problem, Coco.”

“Then at least let me wire you the
buy-in.”

“I will start with Blackjack.” That was the
plan.

She heard Coco murmur something about
stubborn Russians, and smiled. It was a common joke between them.
She missed her friend. Ever since Coco and Grayson had gotten
together nine months ago, here on Mystic Isle, Izzy had seen less
and less of her best friend.

“I will be home by next week. Say hello to
Grayson for me.”

She ended the call over Coco’s protests.
Grayson, the damn wolf, was growing on her. Mostly because he
absolutely adored Coco.

The main hotel was just as she remembered it.
Honey gold, painted with light against a midnight blue sky. Stars
twinkled down at her and she felt like a princess visiting a
mythical castle.

Only this was a pleasure playground for
paranormals. There was nothing sweet or wholesome here, nothing to
base a fairy tale on. That suited her just fine.

She just needed money. The limo pulled past
the statue of nude women pouring water over themselves and stopped
beneath the portico. A moment later she took the driver’s hand and
stepped out into the warm night air. “I can make it from here.
Thank you.”

Valencia had tipped the driver. And the men
who carried the bags. But she only had fifty Euros with her and
needed every one of them if she was going to win enough to cover
the cost of repairs for Gorgeous.

She offered the driver a smile and then
scurried up the path toward the hotel. The automatic doors opened
wide and she strode inside. Gone were the holiday touches, the
evergreen and fake snow. This visit, soft neutral colors and
tropical palm fronds welcomed her.

She could hardly believe she was back on the
island. Nine months ago she’d come on vacation. This time, there
was no time for play. At least, not until she’d won enough money.
But that was easier thought than done.

Turning left, she headed for the casino.

She’d start with Blackjack. She had four days
to turn those fifty Euros into two and a half million. And if the
last day was any indication, luck was not on her side.

She could do this. She had to do this.
Otherwise she’d have to figure out how to transfer money from her
savings. No. She did not want to do that. Not yet.

Seated at the first Blackjack table she’d
seen, Izzy kept her hands on her cards. Ten of hearts and a Queen
of spades. Anything other than an ace would shoot her out of the
water. A mixture of anxiety and excitement fizzled through her
blood like carbonated water. A scientist would probably tell her it
was adrenaline, but she didn’t care for proper and logical.

That was Avery’s department.

Right now, all she cared about was…
“Twenty-one,” she whispered under her breath.

The dealer flipped himself one more card. And
went over.

“Yes,” she hissed.

The two fae at the other end laughed. Izzy
slipped off her leather jacket and settled in for the night.

And so it went. Hours staring down at white
cards, red hearts, black spades. Numbers swam before her eyes. At
one point she accepted a house cocktail from one of the waitresses,
but that seemed like a long time ago.

A small crowd had gathered to watch her lucky
streak. But the more eyes she felt, the more she felt her luck was
about to run out. Unfortunately, she couldn’t afford to stop. Not
yet. If she kept this up she’d be able to enter the tournament
without having to sit at a poker table.

She glanced at the oblong tables across the
room. Suddenly she was seventeen again, rebellious. High on
hormones and lust. She’d wanted to show off for the boy she liked.
A girlfriend was dating one of his friends and suggested they hang
out. Life was a party. She was a rich man’s daughter. And strip
poker had seemed like a lark. After all, she was too good of a
player to lose her shirt.

Or so she’d thought.

Luck didn’t matter much when she was
purposely trying to lose to make the guy like her. Unfortunately,
he’d betrayed her trust and she’d learned the hard way who to
trust. Looking back, he wasn’t all that trustworthy. Or even worthy
of her attention really. But youth and hormones made people do
silly things.

The dealer pulled a seven. Break.

Her lucky day. If she could keep this up,
she’d have enough to get a room. What she wouldn’t give for a hot
bath right now to soothe her muscles. And maybe a shirt that wasn’t
stained with blood. A girl could hope.

The next hand gave her eleven. She doubled
her bet. Five thousand. Izzy held her breath once more as the
dealer flipped over his remaining card. A Jack of diamonds. That
put his total at nineteen.

She silently calculated her total winnings
thus far. She’d need fifty thousand to buy in.

The murmurs around her started seeping into
her ears.
She makes it look easy. She’s on a roll. She has to
lose eventually.

And she did. The next two hands.

She was so close and so very tired. A few
more mental calculations. Five hundred a hand… if she could win
five that’d —

“Miss?”

The dealer raised an eyebrow at her.

“Oh.” She glanced down at the cards.
“Sorry.”

Fifteen.

Shade leaned back against the bar, keeping
his gaze focused on the petite blonde beauty across the room. He
wasn’t the only male in the casino enrapt by her shimmering
white-gold locks and dewy pink tongue. In the thirty-five minutes
he’d been sitting here watching her, she’d touched the tip of her
tongue to her top lip six times. And six times he’d heard the
groans of men around the room as they fell deeper under her
spell.

He’d been under her spell from the moment
he’d found her lying, lifeless, on the side of the road.

Unfortunately for the other gentlemen in the
casino, Shade didn’t share.

He took another long swallow of his
forty-year-old Scotch and folded his arms across his chest. There
went that tongue again. If she’d been sitting at a poker table, he
would believe she was doing it to keep the other players off their
game. But there was no point in that at a blackjack table.

How long had she been here? He couldn’t count
her chips from where he was sitting, but there was a tidy pile
stacked in front of her. And she seemed to be winning more often
than she lost.

Maybe she did have a head for cards.

But could she compete with the big boys?

Would she even earn enough to buy a spot at
the table?

“Shade.” He turned to see Charles Latham
striding up to the bar. “Glad you could make it.”

Shade shook the god’s hand. “Not a
problem.”

Latham cut him a look. “I know you retired.”
Shade inclined his head. That was common knowledge. “It’s also
common knowledge that you’ve never lost a game. The chance to
dethrone the Poker King will be an incredible draw for the charity
fundraiser.”

As he spoke, Latham raked the casino with his
gaze. Shade couldn’t be sure what had possessed the god to create a
pleasure resort. Boredom perhaps? Too much time and money? Whatever
his reasons were, he’d done a crackpot job of putting everything
together.

The casino was just the right mix of fun and
classy. Bright lights, twinkling chandeliers, plush carpet, rich
wood tones. And endless drinks. Yes, Shade had played in some real
shitholes. Stinky. Dirty. Drab. Dark. Smokey.

This place was heaven.

Latham laughed. “Not heaven. But pretty close
to it.”

The bartender slid a drink across the bar and
Latham settled himself on the seat next to Shade. Times sure had
changed. For centuries the gods had kept to themselves. Holed up.
Hands off. Ruling from on high. To be sitting next to one, having a
casual conversation… a shiver raced over him.