Kitty and the Dead Man's Hand (21 page)

My conversation with Dom and his flunkies was frustrating, as expected, but for an entirely different reason: because I was convinced that Dom didn’t know a damn thing about anything. When I got back to Denver, I was going to corner Rick and ask him: where the hell had Dom come from, and how had he lasted this long?

I started to get up. “Thanks for the party, Dom, but I really should be—”

“I have a question for you,” Dom said. I froze when he pointed at me. “Why’d you put Harry Burger on your show? That clown doesn’t deserve any airtime.” It took me a moment to register the name and context: the politician who came on the show to push his anti-psychic legislation. He hadn’t managed to convince much of anyone that the concept was even feasible. But he was enough of a character it made him interesting.

“That’s what I do on my show,” I said. “Drag this stuff into the open to try and figure out what it means. Here’s someone who thinks psychics in casinos are a problem, and I wanted to talk about it. You run a casino, what do you think? Are psychics in casinos a problem? Are they cheating?”

The vampires all giggled, except for Dom, who shook his head sadly. “It wouldn’t surprise me if it happens now and then. But I wouldn’t call it a problem.”

I knew I should have dragged Dom on the show. We could have had a real debate. I grinned, thinking of Ben and his lycanthropic senses giving him an edge at poker. That wasn’t exactly cheating, but maybe Burger had a point. “Have
you
ever cheated in a casino?”

He gave me a look like I should know better. “Let’s say we do have powers that give us an edge. Maybe we win at poker a little more than we ought to. Maybe we’re a little better at counting cards. Hell, theoretically someone with a little telekinesis could rig craps or roulette.”

“Do powers like that really exist?” I said.

A couple of the vampires had started to look over the crowd in the bar with glazed, hungry expressions. Like they were searching for the weak members of the herd. Suddenly, the bubbly brunette climbed over the two of us blocking her way out. She didn’t say a word, not even an apology, when she stepped on my foot. We watched, rapt, as she made a beeline for the bar and the tall, dark, Mediterranean-featured man taking a sip of what looked like whiskey from a tumbler. She stalked to his front, focused her gaze on his, said something. After that, he only had eyes for her. They left about five minutes later. He’d abandoned a woman—stylish, pretty, in a black cocktail dress and diamond necklace—standing dumbstruck at the bar, jaw dropped, staring after the two of them.

“She loves her hunts, doesn’t she?” Dom’s redhead said with a purr.

“She’s a little impetuous.” Dom’s tone suggested amusement more than anything else. “Ray, maybe you better take charge of the jilted girlfriend? I don’t want to be hearing about all this later.”

Ray, the one who’d been smoking all evening, ground out his latest stub in the ashtray in front of him. “Taking another one for the team, I see?”

“It’s not like it’d be hardship,” the redhead said. “She looks pretty tasty.”

“Then maybe you should throw yourself on that grenade.”

They pouted at each other for a moment, but Ray was the one who did the deed. He exited the booth more gracefully, straightened his jacket, and approached the woman. Looking her in the eye, he seduced her just as quickly as the brunette had seduced her quarry. It was like watching James Bond in real life.

Not exactly subtle. This was vampire Family as prime-time soap opera. It was time for me to leave.

“Dom, thanks for the great time, but I really should be going.”

“You mind if walk you out?” he said. “I want to show you a couple of things.”

“Oh?” Maybe now we were getting somewhere. Maybe he just hadn’t wanted to tell me anything in front of his cohort.

“Just in the casino. To answer your psychic question.”

This was wasting time. I had to find Ben. But if it was on the way out anyway, I could spend a couple of minutes. Especially if it would get me out of this crowd. I was convinced Sven was watching my neck out of the corner of his eye.

Together, we went downstairs and made the grand tour of the Napoli’s casino. I had stopped being able to tell the difference between all the various casinos. If you’ve seen one row of slot machines and flashing video poker screens, you’ve seen them all. The cavernous room had some nice decoration, at least, in keeping with the Italian Renaissance theme: opulent chandeliers, gilt fixtures, red plush upholstery on the chairs and stools. In the table-games areas, the dealers were all prim and elegantly dressed, with white shirts and red bow ties. The players gathered around them had a cosmopolitan flair, chic and sophisticated, like we were in Monaco rather than Nevada.

I couldn’t relax. We were being watched, I was sure of it, but the noise, lights, and abundance of smells had dulled my senses. I couldn’t differentiate anymore. When I looked for them, I could see the dark bubbles in the ceilings that housed the surveillance cameras. Maybe that was all it was, the knowledge that someone really was watching me, along with everyone else here. The realization didn’t keep the hair on the back of my neck from standing up, and Wolf was still tense.

That was all. Just surveillance. Except I swore I saw something out of the corner of my eye, something that vanished every time I turned to look. Like a person sneaking around. Sylvia, maybe. Or Odysseus Grant. Maybe he really could make himself disappear.

It had to be my imagination, because Dom didn’t seem to notice, and his senses should have been better than mine.

“Here’s the thing,” he explained, walking past table and card games, blackjack, and craps, all of which were vulnerable to cheating in ways the slots weren’t. “No one I know with any kind of power or ability is going to abuse that. You win a little here, a little there. Never enough to get noticed. You don’t want to break the house. You want the golden goose to keep laying. You win too much too often, the casinos kick you out, blacklist you. Then you’re done. We don’t have to legislate that, because the casinos are very good at taking care of themselves. Besides, you’ll always make more money investing in one of these joints than playing in it.”

In the poker room, Dom stopped me with a hand on my arm and pointed at the central table. A crowd had gathered, watching four men with cards in their hands stare at each other, studying each other. This might have been a prime sporting event. But the players were just sitting there.

“See that guy there?” Dom pointed to the one with the largest stack of chips in front of him. He wore a black silk T-shirt and dark shades, had pale skin, and was otherwise unassuming. “You recognize him?”

“Should I?”

“You should if you watch a lot of poker on TV.”

Kind of like watching bowling on TV, wasn’t it? “Can’t say that I do.”

“Fair enough. He’s one of us.”

Him? A vampire? I wasn’t close enough, or the air wasn’t right for me to smell him. The dealer laid out a card, and the crowd let out a sigh. The guy Dom had pointed out, the TV poker star, raked in the pile of chips from the middle without smiling.

“He does pretty well,” Dom said. “And that’s part of why Burger’s legislation will never pass, because there’s no profit in keeping people out of the casinos. He thinks he’s doing the casinos a favor, but we all know better.”

I looked at him. “The casinos lobbied against the bill, is that what happened?”

“The casinos? No, never. Not directly. But we have a lot of friends in this state.”

I had faulted Dom for not knowing enough about the supernatural goings-on in his town. But maybe he was something I hadn’t met before: a vampire more interested in mundane, mortal politics and economic concerns than in vampire internecine bickering. It was almost refreshing.

Still no call from Ben. I really had to get out of here.

“Dom, thanks for everything. But I need to go track down a couple of more leads on Ben.”

“Right,” he said, nodding with sympathy. “I’ll ask around, see if I can find anything out for you.”

“I’d really appreciate that.”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” he said, with an expansive smile. “Just you wait. He’s probably out winning you a million bucks as a surprise.”

Dom lived in a very pretty world, didn’t he?

The vampire walked me to the lobby and called a cab for me, bypassing the huge line at the cab stand, which was nice. Power had its privileges, didn’t it? One less thing to think about. I was ready to be off the street and away from all the people.

Dom went back inside the lobby, and my cab was pulling away from the curb when I spotted Sylvia, the bounty hunter, standing at the corner behind me. Tonight she wore leather pants, high heels, and a black silk vest. One hand was on her hip, and she was smiling as she watched me drive away.

Chapter 15

O
n the cab ride to the Hanging Gardens, I checked my phone for messages. Still nothing from Gladden, or Evan and Brenda. Or Ben. Out of curiosity, I called up to the room and got no answer. I was
not
going to freak out. Yet.

In the hotel lobby, Balthasar’s face, smiling on his show’s poster, greeted me.

The troupe was probably done with its last performance for the evening. I needed to know if Balthasar knew anything about what had happened to Ben. If he’d had a hand in it himself, as Dom had suggested, I’d smell it on him. I checked the theater area, and it was dark and quiet after the performance. They were probably back at their lair, then. Eighth floor. I found the elevator and wondered if I should be doing this after those martinis.

No, don’t think like that. I was in control. I was an alpha wolf. I squared my shoulders, concentrated on being sober, on asking the hard questions and not falling prey to that charming smile. I was here to get answers. When the elevator stopped, I marched through the doors, determined to channel Lois Lane. Without the always-needing-to-get-rescued part.

Follow your nose, he’d told me. The hallway here branched off, and the doors seemed much farther apart than on other floors. These must have been suites. I stood at the intersection and took a deep breath. From the left came the musky, wild scent of lycanthropes. The trail blazed clear. I wondered if Balthasar walked home in the evening, his tigers and leopards trailing him through the hotel corridors. What a sight that must be. Especially if someone in one of the other suites opened their door at the wrong time.

The next turn brought me to a short hallway that ended in a set of double doors. This was the pack’s place, the heart of its territory. I approached the door like it might jump and bite me. At the same time, in all of Las Vegas, this smelled more like my kind than anyplace else.

I knocked on the door and waited. Waited some more. Knocked again, then figured everyone was probably asleep. Or out partying, which seemed to be the thing to do at midnight on the Strip. I had turned to leave when the deadbolt clicked back. The door opened. Eyes peeked through, and when they saw me, the door opened wider.

Slightly taller than me, a very young man—eighteen or nineteen—stood in the doorway, shirtless, barefoot, wearing a pair of faded, tight jeans. He worked out and was well tanned, his chest broad but still boyish, smooth, with well-defined muscles. His sun-blond hair was several inches long and swept back from his face, which had dark eyes and a curious expression. He kept his hand on the doorknob and looked me up and down, like he wasn’t sure what to do next. He seemed a little sleepy, like he’d just woken up from a nap.

I wasn’t just staring at a model. I was staring at an underwear supermodel, and I wasn’t sure my knees could handle it.

When I managed to take a breath, I recognized his scent. Avi the were-leopard, from the show. “Hi,” I said.

“It’s you,” he said. His smile lit up his face. My heart skipped a beat.

We watched each other for another bemused moment. Then I had the agonizing thought,
I’m a cradle robber. This kid’s too young for me.
I’d never thought that about a guy before, and it made me feel old. But it was true. I kind of wanted to take him out for ice cream.

“Er. . . I really need to talk to Balthasar. He suggested I should stop by and talk to you guys. You know, in person. Human-like.” I swore I’d have been wagging my tail, if I’d had one at the moment. This was ridiculous.

Then Balthasar sauntered up behind Avi. And he looked even better than Avi. He was plenty old enough for me. He wore a rumpled dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, and jeans. He was also barefoot.

“Kitty,” he said. “What a surprise.”

He didn’t say nice surprise, which left me wincing. “I’m sorry, I should have called first. But I really need to talk to you.”

“It’s fine,” he said, chuckling. “It’s good to see you. Are you married yet?”

“No. In fact, that’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“I’ve never met a werewolf before,” Avi said, beaming. “I can smell it.” He glanced at Balthasar, as if for confirmation. “It’s different.”

“Werewolf and female,” he said, studying my curves under the dress. “Exotic all the way around.”

I couldn’t tell if I was blushing from being tipsy or from being flirted at. I hoped my smile managed to be polite instead of silly. “Not really. There’s lots more where I come from.”

Balthasar opened the door wide. “Why don’t you come in? You can meet the others, and we can all talk.”

The two invited me in. Avi closed the door behind me.

It hit me that I was walking into the heart of another lycanthrope’s territory. That sobered me up. No one was acting threatening or aggressive, but I started to pay more attention. I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder to the closed door.

We continued to the inner room of the suite.

I had to say this much: Avi didn’t act like he was a prisoner, or here under duress. He didn’t seem tense or wary, and he held himself with the same graceful ease that his leopard persona had displayed. I had to wonder: how did a teenager get himself in a position to be bitten by a were-leopard? Maybe I could get him to tell me the story.

The first room—a large foyer, maybe, but I wanted to think of it as a great hall—was open, with a low ceiling. Chairs and sofas were low to the ground and piled with cushions. They looked fluffy and comfortable enough to jump on. A thick red carpet muffled footfalls. Columns painted lapis blue and trimmed in gold supported the ceiling at regular intervals. Sconce-style lamps on the walls cast warm, gold light. The closest thing I’d ever seen to this was a fancy Moroccan restaurant.