Trick of the Light

by Rob Thurman

  “No one will stop us in obtaining it. Not a woman and not a demon,” he went on. Demon singular, as in Solomon, Trinity’s equal in Vegas. “Or hordes of demons. Every hell-spawn in existence can stand against us and it will not matter. Eden House has its orders.”

  “Good for Eden House.” I stood and put the tray on the chair. “We should be going. Thanks for the hospitality, but I have a business to run and a Light to find.”

  “I think not.” Mr. Trinity didn’t move, just as the three guards outside the door wouldn’t move—unless we made them. Then there would be reinforcements, and although I knew without a doubt that Griffin would back up Leo and me, someone would get hurt. And Zeke wasn’t even conscious. Griffin wouldn’t leave him if the fight went badly. I wouldn’t leave him.

  It didn’t leave me with much choice. I didn’t trust Trinity, but maybe I should put a little trust in someone else—Solomon. Trust that when I finally came to the Light, he’d be right there for the bidding. He was involved. He’d shown that by appearing at Wilbur’s. I’d had to wonder why a demon stayed so long in one place, stayed so long in Vegas. Not simply for seducing me. I had ego, but I wasn’t a fool. It’d be nice to think all the eligible men and demons were after nothing more than my brain and smart-ass self, but it’d be nice to keep on breathing and living too. Delusion wasn’t very compatible with survival.

  “I guess we have to negotiate, then.” I smiled with confident cheer. And I shouldn’t be so quick to assume Trinity couldn’t track down a demon. I shouldn’t be putting all my eggs in one basket with Solomon. I couldn’t afford to make a mistake. “Good thing I specialize in that.”

  Trinity smiled back. There wasn’t any cheer in it at all. “Yes . . . good thing.”

  The room I was provided with in Eden House was plush. No surprise there. Even if I weren’t quite as good at bargaining as I knew I was, Mr. Trinity wasn’t likely to put me in some sort of basement cell. He was too much of a gentleman for that. He might think I was a greedy woman. He might kill me Old Testament style, but bad manners? Never.

  Once I’d made it clear that I didn’t know the Light’s location, only the whereabouts of the next bread crumb in a trail I didn’t know how long, and once I’d promised to deliver him to the Light and then talk price, he had let Leo go in a show of good faith. And Leo had gone in another show of good faith: that I could take care of myself.

  Truthfully, I didn’t have to hit Trinity as hard as I’d thought with my skills of negotiation. I’d told him he couldn’t pay my price, but he hadn’t believed it. The head of Eden House was just like a common demon: He assumed everyone had a price and he could meet it. Shame on me—I was looking forward to seeing his expression when he was proven wrong. Then again, maybe he’d prove me wrong and do what I was depending on Solomon to do. Life is full of surprises that way. I’d had past plans combined with a smug attitude come back to bite me in the ass before. Best to stay open-minded . . . for Kimano.

  I showered in a bathroom easily as large as my bedroom. Unbelievably thick towels in deep blues and greens, a whirlpool tub that could host a hot tub party. Soft lighting, a sea glass tile floor, and cool, creamy walls, it was beautiful and tasteful—a little too tasteful for me. It had no fire, no life. Although with all the colors of the ocean, Kimano would’ve liked it.

  Close now, little brother, I thought as I wrapped myself in a towel and opened the bathroom door. My lips curved. So close.

  “Such an evil smile. I don’t believe I could do any better myself.”

  Solomon was on the large bed—dressed at least—back against the headboard, fingers laced across his stomach, legs crossed casually at the ankles. His gray eyes were amused as I dripped in the doorway and his smile was anything but evil. It was appreciative and full of heat.

  I had to be reluctantly appreciative as well—at his sheer blazing audacity. “I had no idea demons had a death wish. This is Eden House. Eden House. Full of psychics and empaths. They’ll be on their way right now.”

  “You know that’s not true.” His smile widened to show a flash of teeth. “Although you could scream. I’ll try not to enjoy it too much.”

  “I wouldn’t hold my breath.” And he was right. It wasn’t true. A demon as powerful as Solomon could block any psychic or empath. But he couldn’t block me if I cared to give a verbal shout of “Demon.” I didn’t. I kept my thoughts and emotions as carefully neutral as Solomon was keeping his. After all, this was what I wanted—him there when I found the Light.

  I moved forward and sat on the foot of the bed. I was grateful he was wearing clothes, because I could all too easily feel the lack of mine. “Could you find a demon for me? A particular demon?”

  “You? Asking me for a favor? I’m staggered.” The amused look faded to calculation. “I’m quite sure. I assume you know there would be a price for that. What are you offering?”

  Now I was the one to smile. “I think you know that, Solomon. You’re not a stupid man . . . or demon.”

  “Your soul or the Light.” He held out both hands, raising and lowering each like scales. “I know which I’d prefer, but unfortunately I answer to a higher . . . rather lower power. The Light it is.” He leaned forward toward me, one of those big hands resting above my knee, the fire of it burning through the thick cloth of the towel as if it weren’t there. “Tell me where it is and I’ll deliver up any demon you wish. A hundred if you have that much ammunition.”

  “And you don’t even want to know why?” I asked as the hand slowly kneaded my leg until I felt that fire intensify and seep through every inch of flesh under his broad palm and caressing fingers.

  “I don’t care. I care only about the Light.” He was right there—his breath mine. His mouth mine. And it wasn’t that of a monster . . . a demon. The breath was that of a man touched with the faintest smoky taste of whiskey. The lips were slowly lazy as the drip of honey and artful. Extremely, amazingly, unbelievably artful. This time not a man’s—unless that man had lived thousands of years with the sole purpose of learning to please a woman with a single kiss. It could make you forget where you were, who he was, who you were. If he could do all that with one kiss, I could see why some women might find souls overrated.

  Some women.

  When he pulled back, his eyes were gleaming with success . . . gleaming almost as brightly, in fact, as the blade I held against his throat. Then only my blade was gleaming. Solomon’s amusement, his seduction, it all disappeared behind a veil of tarnished gray. Anger. “Where is the Light?” he demanded darkly.

  “I don’t know. I only know where the next stepping-stone is. Follow me, Solomon, while I follow the path. It’ll be just like The Wizard of Oz. We’ll follow the yellow brick road. I’ll be Dorothy.” I pressed the blade harder. “And you’ll be Toto after a visit to the vet’s office—snip snip . . . so don’t push me.”

  “Trust me, Trixa. I’ll follow you,” he promised, reluctant respect surfacing behind the anger—that of a warrior for another warrior. “There’s no place on Earth you can go that I can’t find you.” Despite the metal at his throat, he kissed me again. It was the barest touch of skin against skin.

  Then he was gone.

  It was just me and my trusty letter opener that I’d borrowed from the desk in the corner and hidden under the mattress. Good enough for paper, but too dull by far for slicing a throat. What Solomon didn’t know wouldn’t get me eaten—at least eaten in the bad way. I fell back on the bed and felt the tingle that prickled with a quicksilver burn up and down every nerve ending.

  Why was it always the bad boys?

  Chapter 8

  “This is it?”

  Griffin looked skeptical. Trinity didn’t bother. He just kept that black gaze on me, patient as a spider. The five other men were hidden behind sunglasses and I didn’t waste a look to see what their reaction was. I didn’t care. They were extras in this little play.

  “This is it,” I said, “this” being the aquarium at Man dalay Bay Casino. I di
dn’t like aquariums any more than I liked zoos, but the Light was calling me here. As for who the next person was who had a bread crumb deposited in their brain, I’d discovered the Light had a sense of humor. “This way.”

  I waited while one of Eden House’s version of MIBs, Men in Bulgaria sunglasses, paid for our admission. I wasn’t paying for my own kidnapping. Mr. Trinity wouldn’t dirty his godly hands with filthy sinful money—never mind he was rolling in it, and Griffin was distracted. He didn’t like being away from his partner’s side and it showed. He didn’t trust Trinity completely anymore if he trusted him at all, but that didn’t show, not to anyone but me. If the other five were empaths or psychics, it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t show to them either. Griffin was better than they were. He and Zeke were the prizes of this particular House. They had no equals there.

  Leo was back at the bar feeding scrawny girls and their pudgy dogs. She gave most of her food to her dog. She deserved the help, just as Zeke and Griffin had years ago. “She left with a garbage bag full of food,” he’d said placidly when I’d called him on the phone before we left Eden House for the aquarium. “If she does come back to help clean, we may have to roll her through the mouth of the alley.”

  “You never know,” I’d said sweetly. “Angels disguise themselves to test the generosity of us sinful mortals. You may have earned a spot in Heaven.” With a snort and no comment, he had hung up on me.

  “Miss Leo?” Griffin said in a low tone at my ear, picking up on the emotion that I hadn’t bothered to try to conceal. Griffin was missing his own partner as well, I knew.

  “Maybe some. He’s certainly going to be sorry he missed this.” I sighed.

  The eight of us moved through a mass of tourists—some pudgy, some thin, and all seemingly dressed from a 1992 JC Penney catalogue. They’d obviously broken out their best for Vegas. Plastic clothes for a plastic town. We went through the underwater ship and then through the tunnel where fish and sharks swam over our heads. One swam especially close, bumped his bullet nose against the glass above us, and rolled—the traditional shark move for taking his prey down. “I think we made a friend.” I waved at it and mentally cursed the Light for at least the fifth time.

  After we exited the tunnel, I stood for a second, my head cocked to one side . . . listening, but not really. More like feeling a tickle in my brain leading me along. “This way.”

  “This way” turned out to be a door marked NO ENTRY. Griffin kicked it in, using as little force as he could so the splintering of the jamb wouldn’t be spotted from the outside hall. Inside the room was a walkway over the shark tank. Netting rose from the rail to well above six feet. Didn’t want the employees accidentally tumbling in and ruining ticket sales with their blood and snack-able entrails.

  “All right.” I leaned against the netting to watch the sea life, and then sucked in my breath, stripped off my shirt and jeans down to panties and bra, and said, “Someone give me a knife or cut me a door.”

  Griffin’s mouth fell open. For such a bright, intelligent, and serious guy, it wasn’t such a good look for him. “You. . . . down there? I thought it’d be one of the trainers or guides. You mean the Light planted a clue in some sea bass’s tiny little brain?” He moved forward, stepping on my clothes without awareness. “And, please God, tell me it’s a sea bass.”

  “Did I ever tell you my brother liked sharks? And not so much planted a clue as left a trail.” One of the MIB was slicing an opening through the mesh and Mr. Trinity didn’t seem concerned in the slightest if I lost a body part or two. Big surprise. “He thought they were the beauties of the ocean. Not dolphins or orcas, he just had a thing about sharks. He even swam with them.”

  “Your brother swam with sharks.” Griffin followed my gaze downward. “He wasn’t any smarter than you, then, was he?”

  I smiled, kissed his cheek, and was through the netting and diving into the water below before he could grab my arm. Not that he didn’t try. A very good friend, Griffin.

  The water was cooler than I expected. Not cold, but not warm either, but the salt in it burned my raw back like battery acid. I ignored it as best I could and began swimming down. I didn’t have to go too far. With eyes wide open I saw electric blue and yellow fish come to nibble at my knees and toes curiously. I saw the wavering faces of tourists who were getting a far better show than they paid for and then I saw it, the same seven-foot-long shark that had bumped and grinned at me—you haven’t seen a true grin until you’ve seen a shark grin.

  Seven feet isn’t really all that big for a shark. They’ve seen them twelve feet long, but right now seven feet was fine by me. Nothing bigger required. It was one of the few cases when smaller was better.

  It swam up to me slowly, black eyes round and familiar. It looped around me until I felt the sandpaper scrape of its skin against mine. I reminded myself it had something to give me, to pass on. That’s why I hadn’t brought a knife borrowed from one of the MIB. That’s why I didn’t open my mouth for a gur gly “Oh shit,” not that drowning while being eaten is much better than simply being eaten. I had faith in the Light, which was odd, as I had so little faith in so many other things. I also had faith in the elemental soul of the shark. Kimano had, and for all his lazy ways, he’d been a good judge of character. Sharks weren’t the villains movies painted them. In all likelihood they weren’t half as savage as your average teacup poodle.

  I rested a hand on the blunt head and thought of my brother and then of the Light.

  It was there, only the tiniest bit—the barest molecule. But even that lit me up. Filled me from the inside out with safety and home and unending warmth.

  Neither Above nor Below deserved the Light.

  But hadn’t I known that all along? Yet business was business, and few knew backroom negotiations like I did. I knew how to get what I wanted—everything I wanted. My house of cards wasn’t going to tumble down now. There was no way that I would let that happen.

  After the warmth and the light came two faces. The first was Jeb—alive, whole, the torture and death a thing of his future. I saw him through shark eyes as he stared back, cradling a large paper bag in the crook of his arm. From the paper bag came a glow—didn’t they say you shouldn’t hide your Light under a bushel? Or in a bag? Then Jeb moved, and a second face appeared, probably that of the next person who caught the shark’s attention. It could’ve been hours later or a day later; who knew? The face was unfamiliar, but I knew it wouldn’t stay that way. He had stared at the shark, mesmerized. Jeb had brought the Light to the shark, and it had passed something along to the giant fish. The shark had in turn passed it along to the second man. The Light hadn’t been shy about leaving a bit of itself in the shark to go poking about in the guy’s thoughts. Who, where, what? The Light obtained it all . . . and that was what was given to me.

  Whatever the Light had given to the second man, however, was gone from the shark’s brain now. I was assuming that missing information would be the location of the Light. Assuming, hoping. But all I received was where to look next—or rather, whom to look in.

  Clever. I knew where to look for the next trail marker, but the final resting place of the Light, that I still didn’t know.

  Next thing I knew, I was standing on the back of a shark and being pulled upward, back through the netting. I wrapped my arms around Griffin’s free one and literally climbed back up him to the catwalk. Up at the top, I shivered, looked down, and then wrapped my arms around my bare breasts. I glared down at the shark, which was diving playfully with a red lace bra caught in his teeth. Then I laughed. What else could I do? And in my mind Kimano stood at my shoulder, laughing even harder. Black hair, black eyes, sun-browned skin, and a grin brighter than the sun on the Pacific.

  “Funny, is it?” Griffin was trying to control a smile of his own as he disentangled himself from the netting and handed me his jacket.

  I bundled up in it and wrung out my wet hair with a reminiscent curve of my lips. “Just nice to see it isn’t on
ly people who have a little bit of the joker in them.” I leaned back against the netting and called down to the water. “Quite the trickster, aren’t you, Nemo?” I dressed back in my dry clothes, using Griffin’s jacket as a shield.

  “So where is the Light?” Mr. Trinity demanded as we moved on, hopefully before security arrived.

  “Oh, it’s hardly that easy. For a smart man, you underestimate the Light. It’s not like we’re talking a sixty-watt-bulb worth of intelligence or anything. We have a ways to go. The giant guppy just pointed me in the right direction, to the next bread crumb.”

  “And where is that?” Griffin asked curiously. It was better than the harsh demand that had been ready to cross Trinity’s lips.

  “Details.” I offered his jacket back. “Details. Give my brain a chance to sort it out.”

  Trinity didn’t look especially pleased with that and turned to the nearest bodyguard, because that’s what they were: a body for him; just plain guard for me. He tapped his shoulder and pointed down into the water. “Go. See if it tells you anything.”

  The bodyguard’s mouth gave a faint twitch. It wasn’t a happy twitch. He looked at me and I could see him calculating that if I could do it, a glorified bartender about a third his weight, then how dangerous could it be? The sharks must be tame from captivity and daily feedings and, yes, he so didn’t have a clue. He stripped to boxer briefs, which, I had to admit he wore well, and dived in as I had. He came out—the newspapers said later—with a red bra wrapped around his neck and missing a chunk of his calf. We didn’t stay around long enough for the live version. Once the thrashing and bubbling screams from the tank and security started rattling at the door that Griffin had jury-rigged shut behind us, we left. I heard later from Griffin, that aside from the bra and missing flesh, the bodyguard had gotten nothing out of the shark. I was still Eden House’s hole card.