Sin City Goddess (14 page)

This was a bad idea all around. If he did find his body, he could very well go mad. It had happened to many a shade who had never made it off this plane. Or he could impede
the investigation if he dug up his corpse and the authorities found it. We would need to secure him a brand-new frame. We’d have to start all over, and there wasn’t time for that.

I grabbed Archer by the collar and lit the fire in my eyes. “You will not go into the desert.”

His eyes glazed over instantly, as if he were entranced.

“I will not go into the desert,” he repeated robotically.

I released him immediately. What had just happened? I had always known that my flame could persuade the gods to tell the truth, but it had not been able to force gods or humans to bend to my will. Was it because he had passed through the Underworld?

Or did it have something to do with my touch here, on this plane? Was my gift somehow altered after I had been away so long?

Archer seemed perfectly lucid when he said, “Okay. See you tonight.”

I watched him walk away. Perhaps my power here was stronger than I thought.

As soon as I walked through the entrance of the Shadow Bar, I realized I had no idea where I was supposed to go or what I was supposed to do once I got there. The Adonis-looking bartender was behind the bar. He smiled at me and winked. He finished making a drink in a tall glass, garnished it with an orange, and set it in front of a young female who couldn’t stop staring at him. He waved me over to the side of the bar.

“Hey, I heard there was a new girl starting tonight. Didn’t know it was you.”

“And how do you know it now? Perhaps I’m only here for a libation.”

“You don’t see many trench coats in Vegas except on dancers and strippers. Come on. I’ll take you back.”

He flipped up the bar top and came out with a set of keys. He led me around the establishment to a side door. He slipped the key inside and twisted the door handle.

There was a door to the left and a floor-to-ceiling curtain to the right. A blond girl was curling her hair in front of a full-length mirror. She had curves that rivaled Aphrodite’s and six-inch platform heels on her tiny feet, although she was still shorter than I was.

“Jessica, this is…” The bartender glanced at me. “Sorry, I don’t think I got your name.”

“Tisiphone,” I said.

“That’s lovely,” said Adonis. “I’m Sam. Well, I’ll leave you ladies to it.” He shut the door.

Jessica said, “Damn, you’re tall.” She was eyeing me up and down.

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re like a giant.”

“Actually, giants are far taller. They smell much worse too.”

She gave me a perplexed look, as if she had spent her last brain cell trying to get her hair in place.

She frowned. “I don’t know why they would put us together. It’s going to ruin the flow of the show.”

“Or maybe we’ll complement each other.”

The look on her face indicated she didn’t agree.

“So, where did you get your boobs done?” Her voice was high-pitched. Like a seagull’s. “They’re a little small, but they’ve got perk. Perk is important.”

“They just showed up one day, and I’ve been carrying them around ever since.” This had to be the most mind-numbing conversation of my existence.

Her blue eyes widened. “You mean they’re real?”

What did that mean? “Of course.”

She laughed. “Honey, no one keeps the original pair. I got a guy in L.A.” She tousled her breasts at me. “These are number four.”

What?

She thought for a moment. It appeared to be quite a strain. “Can I touch them?”

“Absolutely not.” Again,
what?

She turned to the mirror, pinned a curl in place. “Shy, huh? That won’t get you far in Vegas, honey. Sam can hook you up with loose juice if you need it.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Calories, I know, but this isn’t booze. It’s a special cocktail he created. It’s got herbs and shit.”

That got my attention.

The music started then. Jessica said, “I’ll take the right, you take the left. Come on, we’re late!”

She pulled me through the curtain.

Chapter 22

I wasn’t a bit surprised when Jessica took the stage on the left. I shifted direction and fell into a slow rhythm, twisting my body to the music.

Sam the bartender. And “loose juice.” What was that? Was it a mortal slang term I had yet to be acquainted with, or did it have something to do with the kidnappings?

I watched Jessica move to the waves of the music, trying to imitate her style, knowing I wasn’t even close. What she lacked in the processing department, she more than made up for in manufacturing. She created a visual interpretation of sex itself, making love to the music—and, I imagined, also to the audience—right there on the stage.

I suspected I looked more like a newborn giraffe.

Did I really dance better when intoxicated?

After an hour and a half, we took our first break. “We get fifteen minutes. I’m going to grab a smoke. You wanna come?”

My feet were throbbing. I just wanted to sit.

“I think I’ll grab something to drink. Maybe check out the audience.”

“You can’t do that—it’s against the rules. Didn’t they tell you that?”

Snake spit.
How was I going to monitor the clientele if I couldn’t sit in the bar?

“Yeah, Clyde’s a real asshole.” Jessica had her coat on.
“Breaks the illusion, he says. Come on, I’ll buy you a soda.”

We slipped out the door and circled around to a small bar. I ordered a Gatorade. Jessica ordered a glass of wine.

When we got our drinks, she lit her cigarette. “You know,” she said, “you remind me of somebody.”

Alex. Had she known Alex?

“I do? Who’s that?”

“A girl I danced with last week. She was good. Didn’t last.” She blew a ring of smoke into the air. “Some girls can’t handle it.” She looked at me as she said that.

“What happened to her?” I watched her with the attention of a hawk.

She sipped her wine. “No idea. She was here one night and then gone. Only met her the one time.” She puffed her cigarette. “She was a real bitch too.”

I felt my fury flutter, my wings twitch.

Easy, Tisi
, I thought. Alex could be a bitch. Although I didn’t like for anyone but Meg or me to say so. Especially a mortal with the intelligence of a goldfish.

“I think she had a sister who danced too,” Jessica said. “Clyde said she was a lot more fun.”

I chose my next words very carefully. “What do you mean she was fun?”

What did you do, Meg?

“You know, she played to the crowd, got the boys riled up. That sort of thing.” Jessica darted her eyes around. She lowered her voice. “Although I think those two had something going. She liked the loose juice, and girls can be a lot more fun on that shit, if you know what I mean.”

That was it. Meg had ingested this juice Jessica kept talking about. That’s why she had lost Alex—although I couldn’t imagine her attraction to Clyde.

“And the sister? She didn’t partake of the juice?”

Jessica cocked her head. “You talk funny.”

I resisted the urge to yank the stool out from under her.

“No.” She shook her head. “She seemed pretty straight. Kinda like you.”

“So where do I get this juice?” I asked.

Jessica slid off her stool, put her cigarettes in her pocket. “I told you—Sam. The bartender who showed you to the dressing area.”

Adonis? Could he really be behind all this?

We took the stage again, to a much larger crowd. I kept my eyes on Sam as much as possible, which didn’t help my dance performance any.

When the crowd—men and women—actually started booing, hissing, and shouting insults and obscenities worse than any Alex had ever invented, I was a little perturbed. But when one ill-mannered man threw a beer bottle and hit Jessica smack in the eye, my fury erupted.

I don’t know how it happened. Didn’t even believe it was at all possible, but my wings tore through the catsuit one after the other.

The power rushed through me. Fortified my mind, my body, my blood.

That’s when I flew through the screen and into the crowd.

Chapter 23

The crowd was shocked, to say the least. And then something extraordinary happened.

They burst into thunderous applause.

Patrons were clinking their glasses on the tabletops, hooting, hollering, whistling, and staring up at me in awe. I circled the room three times, grazing the ceiling, searching the crowd below for the man who had thrown the bottle.

Each wing-flap built my strength. Each lap around the room fed my magic, as the mortals cheered me on. This was how it should be, how it had once been. The humans gazing upon a goddess with respect.

I felt worshipped, and it fed my entire being right down to my core.

I fluttered my wings a few times, floating down to the ground to confront the man who had hurt Jessica. She was still standing behind the torn screen, squinting through her swollen eye.

The man was young, barely in his twenties, with a close-cropped haircut and a goatee.

I said, “Apologize.”

He just stared at me. Another man came and stood next to me. He was wearing a shirt that indicated he was security for the establishment. “Let’s go, buddy. You’re out.”

I held my hand up. “Please, wait.”

To the man with the cropped hair, I said, “Apologize to the lady.”

I gave him precisely one second. Then I grabbed his collar, fired up the flame in my violet eyes, and growled, “Apologize.”

The man repeated the word.

“Not to me, jackass, to the lady with the swollen eye. And tip her. Handsomely.”

The man turned toward Jessica, said he was sorry, and pulled a note from his wallet with the number 50 on it. He handed it to Sam, who passed it to Jessica.

She grabbed the bill.

The crowd was still raucous. They wanted another show, and I wanted to give it to them. Before I could, however, a voice whispered in my ear. “A word, please.”

I turned to see Clyde standing behind me. He handed me my coat. The crowed then booed him.

I followed the manager down three hallways to a sleek black office with lights so bright they hurt my eyes.

“Please, have a seat, Tisiphone.”

I folded my wings behind me and sat on a tan chair with black diamonds patterned throughout.

Clyde sat back in his chair. He was wearing an olive suit tonight. He looked like he didn’t know what to say.

Finally, I said, “I’m sorry. I’ll pay for the screen.”

“Damn right you will. You’re fired too.”

“Technically, I don’t actually work for you.”

“You know what I mean. What the hell was that?” He stood up, circled around to my back. He came dangerously close to touching my wings.

I shot up out of the chair. “Custom-ordered, Clyde. Don’t touch those.”

“Were you on a wire? Are they battery powered?”

“You know, Clyde, how about you answer a question for me? What is loose juice, and why are you selling it to your patrons?”

Clyde swallowed hard and flicked his eyes away like a dog caught defecating on a rug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Because word on the street is”—
Lords, I hope I used that right
—“that your place is crawling with it.” I advanced toward Clyde, catching a hint of the catfish he had had for dinner.

Clyde offered a serpent’s smile. “It’s just a cocktail, Tisiphone. A Shadow Bar original. Why don’t you send Archer on down, and we’ll talk man-to-man?”

That was the last thing I expected him to say. So many mortals had no respect for women. It sickened me. The sacrifices, the love, the nurturing that women provided to their world, and this was the kind of treatment they received in return?

Goddesses did not put up with that nonsense.

I grabbed the back of Clyde’s head and slammed it into his desk.

He screamed, which only further incited my fury. I twisted his head and bent down to meet his eyes with mine. I lit the fire.

“Tell me about the juice. Where does it come from? What’s it for?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you,” he squealed. “It’s a liquid cocktail. No one knows what’s in it, but it makes people happy, like Ecstasy does, but amorous too, even energetic, like they’re on cocaine. We get it in a concentrated form, and people who ask for something special can get a few drops of it in their drink. Sometimes we dilute it with water and sell it as shots.”