Heroes (21 page)

“Goddesses cannot be killed,” she said. “Not even by the darkest of black magic. But they can be pissed off.”

“I bet.”

“This goddess returned from the supposed dead and laid a curse on her rebellious followers.”

“That’s when they became vampires?”

“Yes. Instead of granting them the gift of immortality, she turned immortality into a curse. They were banished from the daylight. Sunlight was a gift for the mortal world. They were given the constant hunger to hunt and kill the mortals they could not dwell among. They must take lovers that they could not keep. Having your heart constantly broken is part of the curse.” She sighed. “Anyway, that’s how vampires came to be.”

“Okay.” He finally came to the entrance to the hotel grounds he’d been looking for. “How do Nighthawks come into all this?” He bypassed the front entrance to the Silk Road and pulled into the parking garage.

As he pulled into a parking spot, Valentine answered, “That, Mr. Haven, is another story.”

They didn’t have time for more stories. They got out of the Jeep and Haven opened up the back. He opened up the locked metal case where he kept his weapons stash.

“Impressive,” Valentine commented as he gathered equipment.

“Thanks. You want any of this?” he questioned as he loaded concealed pockets and strapped on an equipment belt.

“No, thanks.”

“Fine.” He shut the case, and slammed the rear door. He paused for a moment, and something that was not fear, but was frighteningly disturbing, rushed like wildfire all the way through him. He let the reaction pass—made it pass.

He looked at Valentine. “Ready to rock?”

She didn’t look all that confident herself, but she did smile at him, with an impressive amount of fang showing. “Let’s go.”

Chapter 18

“SOMETHING’S WRONG.”

Haven gave her a wry look, but Valentine could tell he felt it too. There was more than residue and potential magic in the air. There was more than the humming, harsh energy spun off by hordes of gamblers in the casino. There was more than the uneven, tinkling music of the slot machines.

“It’s hot,” she said.

He stood very still for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Air-conditioning’s working hard to compensate. Heat a by-product of the magic?”

“Good thought.”

They were standing in the center of the lobby, beneath a dome beautifully painted to show the night sky. Mortals were all around them, going about their business. They stood by the front desk, gathered in the furniture groupings set under draping silk canopies. She could detect mortals everywhere, in their rooms, the casinos, the bars, the restaurants, the spas and shops, in the kitchens and corridors. She detected dormant and injured energy coming from the cash vault, the money cages, the security centers. Not a vampire was stirring, which at least meant that she and Haven wouldn’t have to fight off any crazed hunting vampires while they sought out the real source of trouble.

Too many of the underneath world worked in the hotel, she thought. This kept the place secure from mortal attack. It would likely stop another vampire incursion as well. It was proving horrifically vulnerable in the face of a magical assault.

“Where’s Ibis?” Valentine wondered, searching for the psychic signature of a strong, ancient vampire. Nothing. Why wasn’t he here to protect his people?

“What are we waiting for?” Haven interrupted her mental search.

She brought her focus back to the tough mortal. “Patience is not your strong point, is it?”

“Is it yours?” was his reply.

“No,” she had to admit. She’d always been too impulsive.

“Where to?” he asked.

“Give me a second.” Valentine concentrated on finding the strongest source of magic, hunting through layers and waves of energy. Mortal emotions, vampire energy signatures. She encountered all sorts of scents and gradations. “Three sources,” she finally told Haven. “You’ve been here before?” He nodded. “Good. Tell me what you know.” She pointed in one direction.

“Vampire museum is that way,” he answered.

“Okay. What’s coming from there is mostly latent stuff. Not a threat zone, then.” She pointed again.

“Uh, saw video screens on this area. Storage rooms, dressing room, I think. The stage magician’s place.”

“Heat source coming from there,” Valentine said. She shuddered as she drew her mind away from the energy. Heat raced up her skin. She pushed away suspicion for now. “We’re going to have to check that out.”

She concentrated on the third source of magic, pointed again. There was shielding around this source, but full of pinprick holes that let power leak out.

“Theater,” Haven said. “Magic show in there.”

“Real magic show tonight,” she answered. “Real magician. He’s weaving spells. I think we’ve found the cause of the trouble.”

Haven’s dark eyes suddenly lit with excitement. “Yes! I should have figured this out already. It’s the magician. The vampire gave the spell book to the magician.” He looked totally disgusted. “I’m an idiot. Murphy wanted to get the book back from him, but I didn’t think it was important.”

Valentine remembered there’d been mention of translated spells as well as the scrolls when Haven told them about Martina’s plot against the Enforcers. “I thought Martina had the translations.”

“I was there when a vampire gave the spell book to the human magician. Reese. The guy who does his act here in the hotel.”

“Why would a vampire give up a spell book?”

“It had something to do with sex,” Haven answered. “Gifts to a new boyfriend. It was stuff taken from the museum. There was the book, a gold cup, and—”

Valentine watched as the mortal’s deeply tanned skin went pale. “What else?” she demanded, deeply worried by this fearless man’s startling reaction.

“There was a gemstone. Looked like a ruby. Murphy called it a dragon’s egg. Said it’s used in alchemy.”

Valentine felt her knees go weak. She would have very much liked to sit down. Or better yet, run away. Her throat constricted with momentary panic. Then she managed to say. “Dragon’s egg. Oh. Fucking. Shit.”

We are so screwed,
she thought.
If it’s real. But it can’t be real, because Ibis is not a fool. He couldn’t possibly have put out a
—

“What is it?”

“Come with me,” she said, and marched in the direction of the theater.

They cut through the casino, and wove through heavy foot traffic in a shopping mall designed to look like an exotic bazaar, with narrow lanes and closely packed vendors’ stalls. Beyond the mall three corridors met in a wide open area before the theater entrance. Valentine paused before the theater doors and rubbed her chin.

“Getting hotter,” Haven commented.

She nodded. She could hear water running in the distance, and didn’t think it had anything to do with decorative fountains. She glanced toward the hallway on their right. The heat was coming from that way. And something that gave her a very bad feeling.

“What if the place is on fire?” she questioned. “Wouldn’t there be alarms going off? Sprinkler systems working? The fire department notified?”

Haven followed her gaze, with noticeable reluctance. “Emergency systems are likely set up in sectors. The hotel’s huge, makes sense that alarms would only go off in the trouble spot. Everything would be monitored in the control center.”

Valentine balled her fists in frustration. “And the command center is currently manned by unconscious nest members.” There was magic swirling and building behind the closed theater doors, and it wasn’t nice. There was magic coming from down that hall. And—

“Smoke,” Haven said.

Valentine sniffed. The smoke was invisible, but it was there. “The place is on fire.”

“I figured that out.”

People were all around them. “Nobody else knows. We have to get everyone out of here.”

“We?”

“You’re right,” she said, whirling toward the theater doors. She looked over her shoulder at Haven. “You sound the alarm. I’ll take care of the mortal sorcerer.”

“But—! God damn it!” He pulled a sawed-off shotgun out from under his coat. He aimed toward the ceiling and fired. “All right, people!” he shouted over the sudden screaming. “Listen up!”

Well, that got everyone’s attention. This was not necessarily a method meant to stave off panic, but Valentine left Jebel Haven to deal with the emergency in his own way. She moved to the doors, and slipped inside the darkened auditorium.

 
“Look at me! Look at me!”

Ben followed the voice. The hunt hunger was growing. That should have made him sharper, but—Reese—the voice up ahead—Reese twisted him. Made the hunger—the beast’s—his—enemy. Couldn’t think and be beast. The closer he got to Reese—the harder it was to think.

Part of the spell? A way Reese had of controlling him?

Ben was too stubborn for that. He moved slowly, like swimming through hot tar, but he moved. Moved down halls, through doors, around backstage props. Reese had two assistants. Had. They’d seen Ben. Tried to run. Tried to warn Reese. But Ben was fast. He hadn’t felt them die, but they wouldn’t be getting up for a while. Wouldn’t be warning anyone that beasts were roaming the world.

Reese wasn’t missing them. He wasn’t doing stage magic tonight. Ben could feel the power gathering. Maybe that was what was sucking the life—the smarts—out of him. Even if he went mad, or lost every grain of intelligence, he was going to get his prey.

Had to—save the fucking day.

He got closer to Reese, one step at a time. Now he could hear the voice.

The voice was saying, “Listen to my voice. Look into my eyes. Let go. Lose yourself. Lose yourself in me.”

For a moment Ben was caught by the soothing murmur, felt the lines of power snaking out, grasping for control. But he didn’t stop moving forward, inch by slow inch, even in the moment of wanting to be seduced.

He was already Reese’s prisoner. Not going to get in deeper. He could feel people out there beyond the stage lights, responding, listening, wanting.

Had to save the others from Reese.

He finally reached the back of the stage. Stepped onto it, into lights.

And knew Reese was waiting for him.

Reese turned and smiled, and waved him forward. A trap already set for the beast. A triumphant display of what Morgan Reese could do. Ben snarled. He put up a struggle, but he moved forward. Which was what he wanted to do anyway. Reese kept smiling, even if he was aware of Ben’s fangs, and reaching claws.

Valentine put away her cell phone and finally turned her attention to the stage. She’d been aware of the sorcerer cajoling the audience that had come to see a magic show. He had a very nice, very persuasive voice, but she didn’t pay attention to the words as she stood in the back of the dark theater making a quick call.

She was near the doors, but out of the way, and disgruntled people had been filing out in a steady stream past her the whole time she was on the phone. Many complained about Reese’s failed attempt at mass hypnotism nonsense on their way out, grumbling that this was not what they’d paid to see. She didn’t blame them for going. Hotel shows in Las Vegas were not cheap, and fake tricks were far more impressive to most people than the real shit the ugly guy on stage was pulling.

Running her gaze over the auditorium seats, she saw that maybe a dozen mortals were gazing fixedly at the sorcerer. These were the few with some psychic gifting. Other people were still in their seats, looking bored or suspicious, waiting for something
interesting
to happen. She considered that it might be best not to confront the sorcerer until she got all the mortals out of there.

“I suppose I could yell ‘Fire!’ ” she murmured. And it would even be the truth.

She heard the voice droning on, but her attention wasn’t drawn to the stage. A collective gasp went up from what few people were left in the audience. Looking at Morgan Reese, she saw that he’d decided to incorporate a vampire into his act.

The vampire was a big male, rather gloriously naked, with a full hunting hard-on.

Valentine couldn’t help but smile. “Looks like the show just stopped being PG-13.”

Taking a more dispassionate look at the vampire, she saw how hard the hunter fought against the mortal’s control. This wasn’t one of the poor junkies who’d been rendered mindless when the bolt of magic struck. This one retained intelligence. And he was totally pissed off at the mortal who thought he was the one in control.

“Arrogant, untrained, wanna-be wizard,” she murmured. Trouble was, Reese did have control.

Enough to keep the hunter’s fangs and claws at bay. He let the vampire take swipes at him, snap at him, and dodged and danced away. He made a show of humiliating the vampire, and the remainder of the audience applauded.

It was a dangerous game, and Valentine let it go on. She let the magician dance, and the vampire grovel. She wrapped shadows around herself, just a little. The magician didn’t notice her moving up the center aisle toward the stage. The man was full of power, but too full of himself. He focused on putting on a show. She drew closer. Closer.

The magician was calling the vampire names now. He’d picked up a fake sword and stabbed and struck at the vampire. The vampire threw back his head and howled.

Reese laughed. And so did the audience.

Valentine stepped up on the stage, dropped shadows and psychic shielding to announce her presence in several ways, and said, “Hi, there.”

Reese felt her presence as the blow she intended. He spun toward her, mouth gaping.

Behind Reese, the vampire howled again. And punched a hole through the mortal’s chest from behind. Bone cracked, blood spurted, and Reese’s open mouth screamed and screamed.

Reese lived long enough to be spun around, and see the vampire holding his beating heart in his bloodied claws. Valentine doubted if the overconfident mortal was still alive when the vampire began to eat the warm, red heart.