Sin City Goddess (23 page)

Sam was tending bar when I arrived. I grabbed a small table in a corner, ordering nothing to drink, and waited for the suspect to arrive. His image was ingrained in my brain. As soon as I spotted him, I would sweet-talk him down a quiet corridor, restrain him, possibly knock him out, and shove him in the closet, then call Archer. He would know how best to approach the local authorities with the information.

And then we could all go home.

It was only a matter of time.

Chapter 39

“Sssssoooo,” Lamia hissed. “Is it feeding time?” She slithered over to him.

He didn’t know which was worse, that disgusting voice or the slimy trail she left behind her when she moved. He turned to look at the snake woman. “Not yet.”

Four girls. He needed one more before tomorrow for the plan to work. Luckily, that moron he had been working through had given him a tip on just the girl. She’d be at the Shadow Bar tonight.

Lamia’s tongue darted in and out of her mouth, assessing the girls who were tied up. They were terrified, that was obvious. All but one. That one seemed calm. Too calm. Even with the gag and blindfold. He didn’t like it, but he also didn’t have time to worry about it. In his experience, people dealt with dangerous situations in a host of different ways. Take the moron who had summoned him here. A serial-killer junkie. Guy aspired to be Jeffrey Dahmer or Ted Bundy. What a joke. He’d killed more than those amateurs combined. But the funniest part was that the asshole actually thought he was dealing with Satan. Kept calling him the Dark One the last few times they spoke. Which completely annoyed him. He hated the dark. He loved color, lights, laughter. That’s why he had chosen this particular moron in this particular city to channel in the first place all those months ago. It wasn’t
too hard. Even where he had been, it seemed, anyone could be bought if you greased the right hand with the right bribe. The escape, though—that part was trickier. That’s why he had needed the snake woman.

Lamia licked the toe of one of the girls, and she yelped.

“Knock it off,” he growled. The snake woman could be a real pain in the ass. He couldn’t wait to get rid of her. Send her back where she came from. She had come in handy during the escape, but he didn’t really need her anymore. He’d kill her if he thought the bitch would die, but he wasn’t so sure of that.

She spat at him and slithered down the hallway.

He checked the skin in the cracked mirror. What a shit-hole this place was. Where had Jason found this dump? He adjusted Jason’s face for a better fit. It was a little tight, but it would have to do. He couldn’t very well wear his own. People might recognize him. Besides, the contact Jason was working through would be expecting to see his face. He doubted he could waltz in with his own image and ask for the girl. That might rouse suspicion, and he didn’t need that. Not now. Not when he was so close to getting what he wanted. What he’d dreamed about day in and day out for all those years.

It was almost showtime.

He grabbed the juice, the formula that he himself had delivered to Jason through the Ouija board. It was Lamia’s recipe. Then he left.

Chapter 40

After half an hour, I called Archer. When he didn’t answer, I left him a message telling him I was still waiting at the Shadow Bar.

I debated ordering a Gatorade but decided against it. I didn’t want to give anyone the chance to poison my drink.

I sat there, watching the girls dance behind the new screen, watching the crowd happily chatting, and wondered for the millionth time where my sister was, why I couldn’t feel her, and if she was hurt. Sam stopped by my table, set a drink down, and said he didn’t know what had happened to the man who was supposed to meet me. “He said he was coming by at eight o’clock sharp,” the bartender said.

There was no reason not to believe him. His ass was on the line, after all. Archer had made that very clear.

When another hour snailed along with no word from Archer or Thalia (why hadn’t she returned yet?), I got up and wandered through the casino.

I stayed close to the Shadow Bar, feigning interest in various slot machines. Gladiator’s Gate, Wizard’s Ward, the Enchantress—where did they come up with all the themes? I watched as slack-jawed elderly women pressed button after brightly lit button, occasionally reaching for the long arm of the machine, hoping to fall into fortune, pictures of cherries and diamonds reflecting in their glasses. Potbellied men wandered around
with stacks of chips, assessing which table would bear the highest windfall. There were young men and women, dressed to the nines in suit jackets and glittery cocktail dresses, headed out for the night. I watched as a cheerful blonde tossed her head back and laughed at something her friend—or perhaps sister—had whispered in her ear, and it reminded me of Alecto and Meg.

I so wished I had traveled with them. I so wished the three of us were closer. We had been once. Before the trial, before I had killed a man. I hoped we could be again.

I kept a watchful eye on the door to the Shadow Bar for a bit longer, hoping Jason Helm would walk through it at any moment.

I had no such luck.

Indigo gurgled beneath my boot, so I decided to take us both outside for some fresh night air. It seemed my date was a no-show.

I walked the streets of the city, drinking in the blackness of the night sky, while adjusting my eyes to the lights of the buildings. I passed groups of people deciding where to dine, where to play games, which show to see.

I looked up at the sky, yearning for the moon and its energy, but there was none. Which served only as a reminder that the eclipse was coming tomorrow, the new moon along with it, and Hades only knew what else.

Was it to be some sort of sacrifice? Was that the purpose of stealing the women? I didn’t know for certain. What I did know was that with the new moon, there would come a drain of power for Alex, and, I suspected—although Athena hadn’t mentioned it—for me.

For I was on a short pass too. And time was running out.

I lifted Indigo from my boot and secured the sword in my belt loop. Two drunken men approached me to tell me
I was hot and asked me if I wanted to get a drink. I thanked them and said I was quite cool, actually, and they stumbled off into a casino called the Flamingo, a gaudy-looking building draped in far too much pink for my liking. I stopped to watch some showgirls, as Archer called them, posing for pictures with tourists. I resisted the urge to tell the one with the long black hair that she might be in danger. Instead, I lingered near her, watching the people who passed, looking for any signs of ill intent among them.

When the women moved on, so did I. Indigo fluttered her purple eye at me, and it occurred to me that she might need to feed. Dragons rarely drank water, because it doused their fire. They obtained most of their sustenance, including hydration, from insects. We wandered down a low-traffic side street that was fairly empty. When I was certain we wouldn’t attract attention, I released her from the sword to catch her meal.

I watched her small blue body fly up into the air, circle the space, and dive-bomb for prey after prey in rapid succession. She was quick, nimble, and I couldn’t help but admire her skill as a huntress. Artemis would be proud.

Something caught her attention, and her ears perked. She looked over her shoulder at me and twitched her nose.

That’s when I felt it too.

Eyes on me. Heat. Hatred. Hunger.

Chapter 41

He passed a group of young men on his way inside Caesars Palace. They were thin, handsome, unlined.

Fresh.

He breathed in the scent of them. Just out of the shower, one of the boys had a spicy aroma. Clove, perhaps? Or allspice.

He preferred the spicy scent to that of musk.

No time for that now, however. Fun time could wait until later. Right now he had business to attend to.

He made his way through the casinos, past wrinkled men with scowling faces. The faces of his father. He shuddered. He noted the women in leather costumes dealing out games of blackjack, wishing that he could get into costume. It was something that was near and dear to his heart: entertaining. He hadn’t put on a performance in a long time. But that would have to wait too.

He found the Shadow Bar, with its slinky women traipsing behind the sheer screens, but just as he was about to enter, something told him to stop. Wait. Identify the prey. Study it. Get to know its habits, its movements.

Its desires.

Women were mostly easy to capture. They rarely carried weapons, rarely paid attention to their surroundings or even their instincts. He shook his head. So foolish. He wondered
how many had died because they hadn’t listened to their inner warning bells. Danger! Danger, Will Robinson!

He chuckled at his joke.

There was a potted fern and a tall ashtray off to the side of the entrance. He camouflaged himself there. He scanned the room just beyond. It was a small space with a long bar, a young male bartender behind it. He was handsome, chiseled. Could that be the infamous Sam Jason had told him about? He was pouring drinks for a flirtatious crowd of giggling girls. He wore a bright smile, wide and welcoming, like they all did at that age. He liked them younger, but this age was nice too. They carried just enough sin under their belts to get a taste for it, but not so much that it soured them.

Yes, he just might come back for Sam.

He craned his neck a bit. Saw no one who fit the profile of what he wanted. What he needed.

He decided to try the other entrance.

He melted back into the crowd, then took a wide turn around a smaller bar and circled back around to the second entrance.

That’s when he saw her. Sitting at a sleek round table alone. Her head was tilted toward a cellular phone. Oh, how he hated those things! They could often foil a perfect plan. Jason had wanted to get him a cell phone, but he wanted nothing to do with them. The board worked just fine for his purposes of communicating.

She lifted up her head, long hair spilling all around her shoulders, and his mouth fell open.

Those eyes. He would never forget those violet eyes.

It was her. Her!

He couldn’t believe his luck and felt a twinge of guilt for
having killed Jason. He should have rewarded the man for finding what would soon be his trophy.

His vengeance.

He had waited so long for this, and he thought—just for a moment—that he could abandon the plan altogether. After all, he didn’t care one bit about the ritual. As far as he was concerned, it was designed to pull him free but also to entice
her
away from the comforts of home. He hadn’t realized she would come before they set the plan in motion. What had brought her here? What had been so urgent that she would come out of hiding?

Then again, did it really matter? She was here now. That was the important thing.

And he certainly didn’t care one bit about what Lamia was after. He just wanted
her
. Wanted to make her pay for what she had done. He would have gotten away with everything if she hadn’t messed it all up. He could have gone on for years.

No matter. After tomorrow, he would go on forever.