What Happens in Vegas...After Dark (32 page)

Damian clapped a hand over his neck. “Late for what?” Hugo had disappeared while he’d been reeling on the floor, leaving him alone with Elena again.

She licked her lips in a clearly nervous gesture. “For you to realize your true self. For you to find belonging. It’s what you’ve always longed for without knowing it. You don’t understand yet, but you will.”

“That’s for sure. Was that kiss just a diversion, then? Were you trying to distract me so muscle-bound boy with the fish eyeballs could stick me? What a bunch of freaks.” He turned, masking his terror at being injected with God-knew-what. “You’ll be hearing from my attorney later today…after I go to the hospital to find what the hell you just put into me.”

Elena followed him. “You can go to the hospital, but they won’t find anything. We didn’t hurt you, Damian. We would never do that. Damian—”

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob and turned.

“I wish you wouldn’t go. I have so much to tell you. If you leave now you’ll have lots of questions later and no answers.”

“So why don’t you just kiss me again, then have Hugo come in, knock me on my head and throw me into a locked room?” Sarcasm dripped from every syllable. “You can imprison me and tell me whatever you want.”

“I won’t keep you here against your will.”

Damian laughed and opened the door. “You are all a bunch of freaks.”

“You’ll be back, Damian,” she called at his back as he strode toward the front of the nightclub.

“Yeah,” he threw back over his shoulder. “I’ll be back with the police.”

Elena stared at Damian’s retreating form, her heart heavy. That had not gone well. In fact, that had probably been one of her worst inductions ever. But Damian would be back. With a vial of her blood acting as a catalyst, they’d managed to activate the fae DNA in him. He would be noticing changes in his body and his thought processes almost immediately. He would have questions to which only she held answers.

She felt bad that it had to happen on today of all days, his wedding day. Worse that she and Damian shared such an incredible attraction. The attraction had been a surprise.

Elena had thought this had been an induction like any other, but it hadn’t been. Not by a long shot. When Damian had looked up at her for the first time and their gazes had met, she’d been shocked by a deep soul recognition of him.

Heartstring.

Heartstrings were rare in the world of the fae. Two people sharing a heartstring were compatible in most every way for a relationship—for matehood. A person maybe had a handful of heartstrings walking around in the world; the chances of their paths crossing were astronomical. Damian was the only one of hers she’d ever met.

She and Damian had a romantic compatibility that went far beyond the ordinary.

And, wow, Reynolds was not going to like that.

B etter.

Stronger. Faster. Clearer.

Had they injected him with some kind of illegal drug? No, it wasn’t that. Damian wasn’t sure how he knew the very important fact, he just did.

Damian hailed a cab on the Strip and told it to pass by the White Wishes Chapel on his way home. He wasn’t going to the hospital. Damian knew whatever they’d given him wasn’t harmful. He’d decided that…or known it, or whatever, only moments after leaving Darkness.

The taxi slowed in front of the chapel and Damian caught sight of Cassidy outside with James. “Stop for a minute,” he told the cabbie. The vehicle pulled over to park on the side of the street across from the building.

She looked beautiful in her gown, like walking sunlight. Damian touched the doorknob to get out, go and talk to her, but just then James pulled her close and she rested her head on his shoulder, accepting the comfort he gave.

Images flashed in Damian’s mind, so clear it was like sitting in a movie theater. Cassidy leaving Gold Diggers and going to the Liege to work as a shil where James was employed as a blackjack dealer. Cassidy upset, grieving their relationship, doubting her self-worth, doubting her ability to risk her heart again. Then…James. First as a friend, then as more.

Eventually true love. Marriage. Kids. Happiness.

Damian shook his head, trying to clear it, and looked up at James and Cassidy again.

That had been a glimpse of the future. He knew it.

Whatever they’d given him at Darkness, Damian liked it.

He directed his gaze to Cassidy again, guilt wel ing once more. But it was better he leave it like this. Better he let things take the course he’d just seen in his mind. Cassidy really would be fine.

“Okay, I’ve seen enough,” Damian said to the cabbie. “Take me home.”

He didn’t call his lawyer, either.

He’d gone back to his apartment, to about fifty irate messages on his answering machine. There’d even been one from Tom, wondering what had happened and why he’d never shown up at the church. From the message it was clear that Tom remembered nothing about that morning.

Or maybe he was the victim of some elaborate prank put together by Cassidy and company? No…that wasn’t her style, not on their wedding day. If it had been a practical joke it had really backfired. Or maybe there was a camera filming him right now and he’d somehow become the butt of some television program’s practical joke? That seemed unlikely.

The only other explanation was insanity. How unpleasant.

Keeping that possibility in the back of his mind, but not quite ready to entertain it seriously—did the insane know they were insane?—he’d escaped his answering machine and the swear words issuing from it in the evening and headed to Cassidy’s. She deserved an explanation.

Her mother had answered the door and let him in without a word. Damian had found Cassidy in her bedroom. She’d ranted and screamed at him for a couple of hours while he told her the truth about his feelings for her.

He’d told her she’d be okay. She’d told him he was an asshole and he’d agreed. Pretty much, they’d left it at that.

Damian knew that about a year from now he’d get a call from Cassidy, once she’d finally figured out she was in love with James and was better off for Damian having left her at the altar. When Damian got that call he’d have to act surprised…but he’d be expecting it.

Now it was midnight and Damian stood on the Strip watching Darkness shimmering eerily in its namesake across the street from him. How was it he’d never noticed it before in all the years he’d lived here? He’d always thought there’d been a wall there.

He grabbed a homeless man he’d seen walk this area for years. He dug out some bil s and pressed them into the old guy’s hand, then he pointed at the club. “That place new?”

The old homeless man squinted. “What place?”

“That place. Darkness. The club across the street.” You couldn’t miss it, it flashed with blue and orange lights on the facade.

“I don’t see nothing there but a wal and shadows, kid, but thanks for the cash.” The man ambled on.

Damian stared at the man’s back. How strange. Or maybe not. Maybe the homeless guy was a little off his rocker.

Or maybe Damian was.

He shook the thought off, pushed his hands into his pockets, and played Frogger to get across the busy street. Yeah, Elena had been right. He was back. He had questions.

Damian wasn’t sure she’d still be there. Maybe she’d gone back to her home under a toadstool for the night.

He approached the door and it opened. A thug…demon?…stood inside. “Card?”

“Card?”

“You need a card to get into Darkness.”

“I don’t have one. What is this, a private club?”

The muscle-bound man narrowed his eyes. “Are you a paranormal?” He sniffed. “You smell fae.”

“What the fuck—”

Muscle-bound threw over his shoulder, “Hey, I think we have a stray.”

“A stray?” Hugo appeared, gave him a once-over. “Nah, he’s new. Inducted today.

Probably doesn’t have a card yet. Come in. Elena wants to see you.”

Damian stepped over the threshold and followed Hugo, whose face was black-and-blue on one side.

“If Elena didn’t have such a hard-on for you, I’d kil you and dump your body in the alley,” Hugo growled over the thump of the driving music inside.

Great.

Damian watched Hugo stalk away, then turned left, figuring he’d find Elena in the same room she’d been in today. He knew she’d been notified of his arrival somehow and would be waiting for him. The club was crowded with al manner of…creatures. Damian did his best to look forward and ignore it all. Denial was a great coping strategy.

When he reached the room, Elena was sitting on the white sofa, wearing a silken blue bathrobe. Her feet were bare and her legs were crossed, revealing satiny-looking flesh.

Her arms were crossed over her chest and she wore a wary expression on her face.

Damian stopped short at the threshold and his mouth went dry before he recovered.

He walked inside and closed the door behind him. “Do you live here?”

“Sort of.” She uncrossed her arms and looked a little uncomfortable. “I live beneath it.”

Elena paused, drew a breath. “In a pocket of reality created by my will, emotion and magic. All the fae do, from the Tuatha Dé Danann to the Twyleth Teg, both light and dark.”

“Okay.” He wasn’t even going to ask. Damian walked a few steps closer. “I’m getting a little sick of feeling like I slipped down a rabbit hole every time I come into this place. I feel like my whole world has been standing on end ever since I met you.”

“Rabbit hole.” She smiled. “That’s not an incorrect description of Darkness. It’s secreted in a fold of reality.”

“A fold of reality.” He couldn’t believe he actually said it with a straight face. But there was a point where you were presented with so much unreality, you just had to believe it.

Or accept it, at the very least. Your mind had to bend, or it would break.

“You can’t see it unless you’re a paranormal.” She hesitated at the look on his face.

“Demon, angel, vampire or fae.”

Well, that explained a lot. “I’m fae, so I can see it.”

“Right.”

Rii iight. “What’s a stray?”

“It’s slang. A human, a nonpara, who can see Darkness for whatever reason. They probably have a drop of para blood somewhere, enough to let them see through the veil and into the pocket where Darkness exists.”

“And you live here.”

She nodded and stood in one mouthwateringly smooth move. “I do. Would you like to see? We can have some tea.” She walked toward the wal .

“Sure, why not?” He shrugged. “I’ve never had tea in a pocket of reality with a fae princess before.”

Her steps hesitated, but she kept going. She pushed the wall and a door opened. Secret passageways. Of course there would be secret passageways. A set of stairs led downward.

He followed her.

“Centuries ago the Tuatha Dé’s population dwindled to near nothing. We were forced to go underground, to hide from humans.”

“I see you mean that literally,” Damian said, examining the artwork on the walls. Images of the Wild Hunt and other fae legends cavorted in paint every few feet in between classy, expensive lighting.

“Well, yes, sometimes. We do live aboveground, too, but in every major city there are fae residences underground. The royal family, for example, always lives underground.”

“Why were you forced to hide from the humans? The fae have all kinds of special powers, right? Why didn’t they just take over?”

She turned her head and glanced at him. “You mean, why were we forced to hide? It was because our numbers grew so low the humans formed lynch mobs. No amount of special powers in the world would have helped us when our numbers were so drastically reduced. Our magic is limited to precognitive abilities and illusion, mostly. We can alter matter in pockets of reality—that’s not illusion. Those pockets are faery and we rule there. But illusion in this reality construct is just a parlor trick and it doesn’t do much good in a war. Plus, the humans had reason to hate us. Back then we weren’t very nice to them, not a lot of us, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never read any faery tales? The Brothers Grimm, perhaps?”

“Sure.”

They reached the end of the stairs and they found themselves in a long corridor. “Then you know we liked to play tricks on them. We used to lure mortals into falling into faery and some of the darker of us did cruel things to them there. Occasionally we even ate them. Think of the old woman who lured children to her house in the woods. That was based on a true story.”

“You can’t tell me that faery tales are for real.”

Elena shrugged. “Believe what you will. Your beliefs don’t make reality any less true.”

She went through the third door on the right and he followed. Inside was a luxurious apartment. It was huge, far too big to be believed. The doors in the corridor had been close together. By al rights they should have entered a very narrow room. He stopped short, staring at the overstuffed, comfortable-looking furniture, the fire flickering in the hearth and the open kitchen at the far end of the room.

Elena turned. “It’s a pocket.”

“Of course it is. It reminds me of a clown car.”

She laughed and went into the kitchen. “Would you prefer coffee to tea?”

“Always.”

He wandered over to a table with a glass top. On it were displayed many different beautiful pieces of multicolored pottery. He picked one up and examined it. “This is really beautiful stuff,” he said in admiration. He wasn’t much for interior design, but these objects called to him. They were special in some way.

Elena peeked out of the kitchen. “The pottery, you mean?”

“Yes. I really like it.”

She smiled—warm and bright. It made something around his heart squeeze. “Thank you. It means a lot to me that you like those pieces.” She ducked back in.

He frowned. “Uh. You’re welcome.”

“How do you take your coffee?” she asked from the kitchen.

“Black.”

Elena poured two mugs of black coffee. Then she came back and handed him one. “Sit down. We have a lot to discuss.”