by Jana Denardo
Chapter Four
“TRY IT.” Taabu held out a wooden spoon to Arrigo.
Setting down the cooler he’d brought, Arrigo obliged her by nibbling the collard greens. As a vampire, his tongue had altered taste buds. Still, the smoke, salt, and bitterness in Taabu’s collard greens hit his senses. Like the rest of his kind, blood only made up a small portion of their nutrition, but it was also the one thing that truly excited his taste buds. He wouldn’t find much of it at a backyard barbecue. Of course, that wasn’t true. Blood pulsed all around him, but it would be bad form to mesmerize Taabu’s guests and snack on them. He could be happy with a rare steak, something most vampire literature had wrong.
“Very good.”
“Thank you.” Taabu leaned in and kissed his cheek. “And thank you for bringing the steaks.”
“My pleasure.” Arrigo sometimes wondered why he made friendships with Normals. Their lives were fleeting, but then he had nights like this. A close group of friends getting together—okay, mostly Taabu’s friends, but it was somehow different than going to the Crypt-Kicker and hanging with other Supernaturals. Sometimes being reminded of his former humanity was a good thing and needed to help ground him. Any Supernatural who lost his or her humanity—provided they ever had any—tended to go bad. If that wasn’t the case, there would be no need for the Chiaroscuro and he wouldn’t have spent lifetimes hunting down the bad seeds. Taabu would pass out of his life in a blink of his metaphorical eye, but Arrigo wouldn’t miss having known her for the world.
“Have a beer.”
Arrigo turned to find Shani, Taabu’s detective sister. She held two Samuel Adams beer bottles. With her short, straightened hair and utilitarian clothing, she embodied the opposite of her sister’s flashy new-agey persona.
“Thanks. Working on anything interesting?” He took a beer from her.
“You two talk. I’m going to turn these over to Jeff and let him get them started.” Taabu picked up Arrigo’s cooler, then pointed through the sliding glass doors to where the picnic filled the evening with lively sounds.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Shani clinked her beer bottle against his before linking arms with him. She led him out to the padded patio couch.
Arrigo flopped down, and she followed. “Me?”
She smiled. “Who doesn’t like a good ghost story?”
When he had first met Shani, he feared there would be animosity between her sister and her. There certainly were enough fake psychics and ghost hunters, and he doubted those con artists would sit well with an honest cop. However, the sisters had been raised by a mother and grandmother who believed in ghosts and seers. Shani had been more suspicious of him than Taabu. She no doubt wondered why a wealthy man played at ghost hunting, and maybe even doubted his intentions toward Taabu were honorable. The fact he didn’t charge for the investigations helped his case, and he wasn’t to Taabu’s tastes. She liked her men a little older and definitely taller. He enjoyed Shani’s company. Maybe because they both hunted down cunning prey, he felt a connection to her. Too bad between her job and his, they had little opportunity to hang out.
“Okay, I’ve been approached by Emily Russell. She writes true hauntings books, but she’s not really an investigator. She wants me to help her with the new book, Haunted Casinos. I just finished with the Bally Hotel.”
Shani crinkled her nose. “Isn’t it relatively new? Could it be haunted?”
“The eighties aren’t ‘new.’”
“I said the same thing, Shani.” Taabu plopped down between them. “Jeff’s got the steaks on. We’re waiting for Allie to get here with Tom. Tell her about the MGM. Shani and I grew up in Mobile. We never heard this story.”
“In 1980, the old MGM stood where Bally’s is now. It caught fire. It took over four hours to get everyone out. There were malfunctioning fire doors, and the fire truck ladders couldn’t reach above the ninth story.” Arrigo took a swig of his beer. The scent of steaks on the barbecue filled the air. Usually it was a good smell, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about the scent of cooking meat as background to his story about a deadly fire. “Over six hundred people were hurt and eighty-seven were killed.”
“Hell, that had to be a nightmare.” Shani shuddered, her eyes hardening. Arrigo could imagine her calculating what it had to have been like for the detectives thirty-odd years ago.
“I can’t even imagine it.” Taabu made a face. She toyed with her earring for a moment, staring out toward the hills, before adding, “A couple of years ago, someone came to me to try to contact someone lost in the fire.”
Arrigo nodded. “It was an interesting investigation. Heartbreaking, really. There’s a little boy crying for his mother on the seventh floor, and down on the casino floor, there’s a woman who is surrounded by smoke and whose dress is on fire.”
“Wow, see, now how am I supposed to top that?” Shani reached over her sister to slap his chest.
“I’m sure your cases are far more interesting than mine.” Arrigo smiled at her. He doubted talk of homicide cases were any more appropriate dinner-party talk than the story he had told. At least his had ghosts, but the same might be true for anything Shani would come up with. He glanced around. Luckily, Taabu’s other guests seemed to be lost in their own conversations and not paying him the least amount of attention.
“More interesting than a ghost woman with ectoplasmic flames? I think not.” Shani laughed, then polished off her beer. “Besides, you know I can’t talk about open cases.”
“And her work is with the still-living kin and killers. That’s too scary. Tell us more about the ghost walk idea,” Taabu said.
“There’s not much to say. I’m still working out where we can walk that’s not too far off the Strip but will still be entertaining,” he replied. Arrigo thought there was probably a joke in there somewhere, a vampire hunting ghosts, but it didn’t matter. Las Vegas had a few ghost walks, but if he believed TripAdvisor, the competition proved light on history. He hoped to come up with a tour with some good ghostly stories backed up by newspaper clippings, within a reasonable walking distance. Throw in a few EMF readers, and he’d have something: nighttime ghost hunting, a perfect job for vampires. He knew several young vampires in town who weren’t old enough to be out in the sun, like Arrigo was, who could be tour leaders. He always gave back to his community. He sucked as a mentor, but he was always willing to help where he could.
The typical Vegas tourist would have no idea if the tour leaders were vampires. They could be pale, yes, but not strikingly so. They didn’t look like marble nor sparkle. The virus that mutated their DNA didn’t kill them nor make them ravenous beasts.
“I want to be a guide once you get this planned.” Taabu took his hand, feathering her fingers over his palm. It made his skin twitch. “So, partner mine, tell me, shall I read your future and see what your love life holds? You didn’t protest too hard when I said I should have arranged a date for you tonight.”
Arrigo arched his eyebrows. “How do we go from hauntings and homicides to my love life?”
“This is a party, baby, and love is a celebration.” Taabu squeezed his hand gently. “It’s an appropriate topic. You’ve been lonely forever.”
“Just because I don’t parade my lovers through the shop, Taabu, doesn’t mean I don’t have them,” he huffed. If she only knew. He couldn’t even remember them all, but that was a side effect of being ancient. He frowned slightly. Taabu had a point. It’d been a while since he’d been with someone.
She flicked a finger against his palm, and then studied it closely. “No, but the fact you never bring them here suggests they don’t exist.” Taabu tapped a line on his hand. “This is a strange love line.”
“Thanks.” Arrigo crinkled his nose.
“She has you there,” Shani said, poking his shoulder. “About the fact we’ve never seen you with anyone. I know crap about palmistry.”
Arrigo sighed. “I am currently in between lovers by choice. I needed
a break.” He wondered how long of a break it had been. Taabu had noticed. That was the thing with vampires. Sometimes time seemed like nothing at all when it had been in fact years.
“Not even a nibble on the line?” Taabu asked.
“You’re assuming he has bait.” Shani got up, looking around before heading to the recycle bin with the bottle.
“I have very nice bait, thank you,” he called after her. He turned his pout on Taabu. “I do.”
“All men think so, yes.” Taabu smirked.
Arrigo rolled his eyes. That wasn’t entirely true. There were men who were well aware of their shortcomings, but he didn’t protest. Instead he thought about Luc. He didn’t know if he wanted a relationship or if one was even possible with the man, considering the gulf between them. Granted, Arrigo didn’t know if Luc was even gay. He still had no clue why, but the young man got his motor running.
“I thought you said there might be someone,” Taabu said. “So what’re they like?”
He considered for a moment, then said, “Quiet and shy.”
Taabu hummed for a second, and then said, “Never thought you’d go for a vizsla.”
“Huh?”
“Vizsla, you know a shy, quiet, and gentle dog breed. I’d have thought you’d go for the exuberant types like a Lab or a golden retriever.”
Arrigo wondered where he lost control of the conversation. “I’m just pretending I know what you’re talking about.”
Taabu lazily slapped her hand against Arrigo’s chest. “The guy I had in mind is like a golden retriever, all enthusiasm and hugs.”
“Oh dear God.” Arrigo doubted Jupiter could save him now.
“And while I know you’re more like a cat, I think you’d like him.” Smiling, Taabu stood up and pulled him to his feet.
Arrigo knew this could go sideways fast. “I’m not a cat.”
“Babe, you’re the epitome of cat.”
Arrigo didn’t know what that meant. “If my relationship doesn’t pan out, I’ll consider him,” he said, and Taabu beamed.
LUC WIPED the bar down, not that he thought anyone in the Alibi would give a damn if it was sticky. Da’d been happy Luc sold the waters. Luc tried not to think about who he sold them to because he didn’t get the man. Why would anyone be so nice to strangers? In church, Luc heard time and again that’s the way life was supposed to be. Luc had never seen it. Worse, Arrigo made Luc think things he had been raised to believe were wrong.
Luc knew he hadn’t imagined Arrigo liked him. The man seemed comfortable with the idea, far more comfortable than Luc could ever be. Hell, Arrigo even believed in the whole idea of helping others like Jesus said, something Luc had rarely seen in his life. Arrigo’s niceness wasn’t the problem. The other feelings, the lust, made Luc nervous. His father had beaten him senseless more than once when he thought Luc was “acting gay.” Arrigo seemed okay with liking men, not that he had actually come out and said it. Luc got that hint from Arrigo. He could be wrong, though Luc liked the idea of it being okay to be attracted to a man. Even as some churches slowly became more accepting of these sorts of feelings, Luc’s family railed against those “bleeding heart fags’ priests.”
Of course, Da and Henri cursed Luc for being a fag. Luc liked girls, liked being with them, but he had those same feelings for men, maybe even stronger. For a long time, he hated it, fought against it, all the time hearing from his family and his priest how gays were gonna burn in hell. Luc could never understand how a god who was supposed to love and forgive everyone would send gays to hell. Luc needed to believe in God. It made him feel safe, but the thoughts in his head also made him feel like he didn’t quite belong and never would. He brushed his fingers over his cross hiding under his shirt.
A tech college commercial came on while the sports took a break. He glanced up at the overhead TV, wondering if he truly could escape a place like this. Get his GED, go to school like the one in the TV ad, live somewhere he could be who and what he was without having to fear his family. It would be no loss if he left them behind. They saw him as fit only for grunt work. That attitude started long before they had guessed he might like other men. Da had made a good trap for his sons, keeping them from school. It wasn’t the first time he thought about that GED. He’d hidden a test prep book in his closet, slowly studying it when he could. He tried his hardest to figure it out, but he didn’t read good. He prayed to Jesus for help in reaching his goal. So long as his family didn’t find his GED book, Luc prayed he’d make it. He lit a candle every Sunday. God, let him pass the test when the time came.
“Luc, we’re getting air in the line for Bud Light,” Henri called out. “Go change out the keg.”
Luc nodded, disappearing into the back room of the bar that they used for storage and where the kegs were. He was good for this, hard labor. He could lug the heavy kegs and slam them into place. Before the hurricane, as a teen, he had worked shrimp boats, hauling the catch. Strong and stupid, he knew himself well. Why waste time thinking about Arrigo? Arrigo was out of his league. Luc amazed himself by even admitting he wanted Arrigo to touch him. Maybe he had gotten tired of pretending and hiding. Hell, Da and Henri beat him for things he didn’t do. Maybe he should be guilty.
As if there was a chance a man who lived high in the sky, looking down on the little ants like him, would be interested in him. Still, Luc swore Arrigo had been watching him. Maybe he was the type who thought those beneath him should be grateful for the attention and would do whatever he wanted. Or maybe Arrigo lied about living in the Veer Towers. He could have been showing off. He looked even younger than Luc, little more than a teenager. Maybe he’d been born to wealth, because he didn’t look old enough to have earned it. Luc wished he knew how someone so young could act so confident about everything.
Shoving the keg into place, Luc cursed as his knuckles scrapped the walls, kissed quickly at them, then grimaced at the coppery taste, wondering why he always felt he had to “kiss” any wound his hands suffered.
He connected the plumbing up. Luc knew he was being mean. He had no reason to think Arrigo was a cold asshole. Arrigo had been nice to him. He could be reading too much into those looks Arrigo gave him. Then again, why did Arrigo come back to this shithole bar? He could afford much better.
Dangerous as it was, Luc found himself hoping Arrigo came there for him. Few people in his life had stirred lust in him this easily: Billy Ballons, Suzie Carpenter, Todd Derry. Of course the instant attraction usually ended quickly and, all too often, badly. They ignited like a firecracker and burned out just as fast. Shoving thoughts of Arrigo’s dark good looks and his muscular body out of his mind, Luc headed back up to his sucky life. Maybe next time he’d write down the tech school’s number, give himself a new goal. Luc liked the idea of that.
Chapter Five
TAABU PARTED her bead curtains to peer out at who waited for her. While she had a good standing clientele of locals, tourists represented a brisk business, most of them wanting to know meaningless things like would they hit it big or what poker tournament they should sit in on. It potentially wasted her time, but who was she to judge what people found important, especially those willing to pay her? It wasn’t as if Arrigo brought in money. His services were free to whomever wanted him to investigate their haunted houses. She thought he might charge a nominal fee to people like Ms. Russell, who wanted to use his information to write a book, but they’d never actually talked about it.
Two people sat in the waiting room. Mrs. Lutz came every Thursday to talk about her deceased son. It broke Taabu’s heart, especially when Taabu rarely snared a snippet of information on him or from him. He seemed content on the other side of the veil, disinclined to talk with the living. Mrs. Lutz also asked about how best to make the most of the week to come. The other person had to be the new name on her list, John Clayton. He was young, blond, and kind of cute in a nerdy way with wire-rimmed glasses and a Batman T-shirt. He sported a thick beard and curled mustache like many hipsters, but she tho
ught maybe he wore a toupee, not that she’d blame him. She knew a lot of young men started balding as early as high school.
“Mr. Clayton, come on back.” She put on her brightest expression for him, as she did with every customer. Taabu made it a point to greet them all as sunnily as she could, every time. Life was hard, dark even, so why not be a point of light in it? Taabu was ever thankful she didn’t have her sister’s resting bitch face.
He smiled at her. Taabu would bet that got Clayton most everything he wanted. It was an Arrigo kind of smile. They would either like each other or repel, because they were too alike.
“I’m not sure what I expected,” he said, fiddling with his smartphone. “I’ve never done this before. Do you mind?” Clayton twisted on his chair and took a selfie. His smile turned sheepish and he tucked the phone away. “Sorry.”
“That’s fine. I appreciate you putting the phone away, though.” Taabu liked cell phones for their convenience, but she hated people’s addiction to them. Their sheer inability to put the phone away for ten minutes disturbed her with the implications. She didn’t like social media’s ability to isolate them rather than bring them together. Taabu smoothed away a scowl. That was a pessimistic thought for her. “How did you choose my shop?”
“Saw it while walking around. I’m new in town. I thought why not see if coming here was the right move?” Clayton shrugged. “So here I am, unsure of what comes next, but I’m looking forward to it.”
“I could read your palm or simply take your hand to see what impressions I can get.” When he frowned a little, Taabu changed tactics. “Or we could try tarot cards.”
He tapped a finger next to the deck of cards, eyes bright. “Let’s do the cards. I’ve always wanted to do that.”
