by Jana Denardo
Somehow Taabu didn’t entirely believe him. She wanted to take his hand, get a better read off him, but he kept them tucked against his thighs, under the table. She sensed he was lying, and she didn’t know why. It could be as simple as embarrassment at coming to a psychic. She’d seen that before. There was nothing to be done for it. Maybe the cards would reveal something.
“All right. We can do a three-card spread, which will take about fifteen minutes, or the full layout, which will take a half hour,” she said, watching him do the mental calculations for the cost. Her rates were posted in the waiting room.
“The three cards one should do for my first time.” He flashed his award-winning smile again.
“Sounds good.” Taabu took out her deck, the old-fashioned Rider-Waite cards, and had him cut them. She turned up the four of cups, the Hierophant, and the Wheel of Fortune, none of them reversed.
Taabu took her time, going into each card with more detail as she tried to get a read on him. Clayton was a slippery one, but he paid close attention to everything she said. At the end, she slipped the three cards back into the deck.
“Wow, that was so interesting! Thank you.” Clayton sat forward a bit so he could pull his wallet out. “I think it’ll be helpful. I might make another appointment to see you. I’ll take a card and call you when I know my schedule.”
“Sounds good. I’m glad you found it helpful.” Taabu stood up to show him to the door. She pointed to the desk where her business cards sat in a heart-shaped box, and smiled as Clayton pocketed a card on his way out the door.
Returning to her reading room, Taabu cleansed the energies from it with a braid of smoldering sweet grass. She hoped Clayton didn’t make another appointment. She’d had weirder clients, and his reading was relatively normal, but he’d sent a nervous tickle up her spine. Taabu tried to put him out of mind as she called for Mrs. Lutz to join her.
ELENI LOOKED at her watch: nine thirty. George told no lies. The scum scuttling around in this place were like roaches; they hated the light, but they kept coming back. She would have compared their nocturnal habits to vampires, but she didn’t want to denigrate her own kind. Offensive to every sense, the Alibi was dirty, the music could make her ears bleed, and it reeked of sweat, smoke, and stale beer. She glanced around at the rough clientele, several perched at the bar as if they were growing out of it. Others thumped hips on the pool table as they played. Most seemed to be biker movie rejects, though they smelled like the real thing, gasoline, sweat, and rage. She had some regrets about her choice of disguise, which included the lowest cut shirt she could find and a sprawling floral temporary tattoo across her half-exposed chest. She’d capped it off with a long red wig and a pink Harley-Davidson cap. With how some of the men were eyeing her, she’d need a shower once she left this place. Eleni sauntered to the bar and sat next to a girl who looked like her bra size was bigger than her IQ. When Eleni laid her hand on the bar, her fingers stuck to it. She imagined the beer would taste vile.
What in the world would have attracted Arrigo to such a place? She might hate him, but Eleni had to admit Arrigo had refined tastes. He’d be more inclined to set this place on fire. Then again, that might just be her. Eleni waited for the bartender to stop chatting up some bimbo in a skintight tank top. Could he be the person Arrigo was interested in? He didn’t seem like Arrigo’s type. Eleni smiled faintly. Back in her day, they had the sense to deal with catamites properly.
For all she knew, the mean-eyed blond still ignoring her so he could talk to Boobs was what Arrigo went for in a man. However, he wasn’t thin. George had said Arrigo was watching a slender man. Granted people had different opinions on what constituted lean, but this man didn’t fit the bill. He sported muscular arms and broad shoulders.
Eleni’s doubts about this bartender grew. She straightened, muscles tensing, as another man appeared from the back. He slipped behind the bar to say something to the bartender who pushed him away. The newcomer, slender with a woolly head of blond curls, walked over to straighten up the currently abandoned pool tables. Now he might be the one Arrigo came there to see. She licked her lips, tracking the blond’s movements. It would be fun to pull his wings off, but not quite yet. Eleni wanted to toy with him, but first she needed to deal with Arrigo’s African friend, the fortune-teller. Eleni knew Arrigo was closest to that woman. Could Arrigo be in love with another human? He did have a habit of loving mortals, the fool. One might play with one’s food, but one didn’t love it.
The slight blond didn’t come back to wait on her. He left the pool tables to pull real darts out of the wall next to the dart board. The other bartender still wasn’t paying her any attention. Her fangs fought to descend so she could rip out his throat to repay his slight. Taller than Arrigo’s blond, with a harder edge, he looked far more rugged and masculine than the other young man, but his blue eyes suggested they were related. Rugged was more her type than the curly-haired blond. Eleni wasn’t surprised by Arrigo’s choice. Arrigo liked to dominate, probably made him feel like a big man, and the little blond no doubt liked having a bastard like Arrigo bossing him around.
The smaller blond finished his tasks on the floor. He ducked behind the bar and started wiping it down. His curly hair had gone frizzy, hanging in his eyes. Lean as a whippet, he had the wan, tortured look of a Pre-Raphaelite painting, provided the model had had the shit beat out of him. Finally, the more rugged bartender seemed to realize she was there, or at least her breasts were, since he didn’t raise his eyes from them. The fiery red wig she wore to help disguise herself might prove unnecessary since no one in this bar appeared to look anywhere but chest high on a woman.
“What can I get you?” Rugged’s personality made her feel unwelcome. Eleni suspected the drunks in this place wouldn’t care. They might even be untrusting and put off by a friendly bartender.
“What do you have in bottles?” she asked after eyeing the glassware. She didn’t want anything served in them. She put in a good dose of New York accent into her voice. Her ability to impersonate regional dialects had helped her many times in hiding from her enemies.
“Bud, MGD, and Coors,” he replied, disinterested, still not looking her in the face. No, this wouldn’t be the man Arrigo wanted. He had a dullness about him.
“Coors,” she said. In all her years, Eleni had never acquired a taste for beer, but she knew ordering wine would be out of place in this bar. Her fashion sense alone already marked her as someone who might not belong. While the rugged blond got her beer, Eleni tried to get the other blond’s attention, but he was bent down picking something off the floor. Eleni could see why Arrigo might like this one. Blond curls, guileless blue eyes, and a tight little ass Arrigo probably couldn’t wait to tap if he hadn’t already. Eleni wouldn’t mind seeing those hips in action herself. When he straightened up, she crooked a finger at him.
He set the bar rag aside and came over. “Can I help you?” He had the same accent as the man she assumed was his brother, a mix of French and—what did they call it in this country? Redneck? At least he looked at her briefly before dropping his gaze almost shyly.
“I’ve got her, Luc.” His brother returned with her beer.
“So he does. I wanted to see if you had a minute to talk, cutie.” She smiled one of her biggest smiles for him. He went pink to his roots. His brother slammed her beer down harder than necessary. It foamed some, but he made no apologies.
“Luc, you need to pass a mop in the toilets,” he said, so obviously jealous, Eleni thought it was cute. So that was his name. She’d have to remember it.
“Henri,” Luc whined.
“You heard me. Get moving, mop-boy.” Henri thumped his brother’s shoulder.
“That’s okay. It gives me an excuse to come back when you have time to talk, sweetie.”
Luc glanced over at his brother. For a moment she wondered if he was gauging the older man’s reactions. No doubt some of the people in this bar would beat a fag with great glee. He was probably tryin
g to figure out if she’d be a good beard for him. Of course, he could be straight. George hadn’t actually caught him and Arrigo doing anything. Arrigo could be fishing without bait for all she knew.
“It’s slow in here before eight,” he said, shooting his brother a vindictive look.
“I’ll remember that.” Eleni watched him walk to what were probably the most disgusting bathrooms in a mile radius. He was cute, for sure, but a little blue-collar for Arrigo’s usual tastes. She shot his brother a smile, too, and then took a few sips of the piss-water beer. She could probably easily cull Luc from the herd. It would have to be soon. If Arrigo even suspected she was sniffing around, he could set a trap for her. Eleni knew the smartest move would be to go to the bathroom and take this boy, but she hadn’t had enough fun yet. It was worth the risk to wait. The game was just beginning.
“Shift’s done, Henri,” Luc told the brawny bartender after he reappeared from the toilets. “Going home.”
Henri shrugged, finally turning away from Boobs. “You ain’t no help anyhow, Luc. What do I care?”
“Tchew,” Luc spat, and from the fury in his brother’s eyes, Eleni assumed that was a curse in whatever tortured language they spoke.
Luc fled out the door, and Eleni stood to follow him. She trailed him up the street, moving with the ease of a predator, right up to the point her cell phone rang. Luc turned, spotting her. Eleni stepped back toward the shadow of the nearest building, saying hello loudly as if she had no other agenda. Luc started walking again, but following him was over for tonight.
“Eleni, I got all the photos you wanted,” George said over the phone. “I told her my name was Clayton. She tried to take my hand in the session, but I didn’t let her, just like you told me.”
“Very good, George.” She shouldn’t be mad at him. He was only doing what she asked. George had no way of knowing she was stalking prey at the moment.
“Some psychic she is. She didn’t notice I wasn’t there for a reading.” He laughed. “Want to see what I have?”
“I’ll meet you at home.” What else could she do? She couldn’t chase after Luc, but it didn’t matter. She knew where he worked. There would be other nights. Eleni wanted to draw out Arrigo’s suffering. Picking off his friends one by one would be just the thing.
NEVER PARTICULARLY fond of trucks, Arrigo nevertheless kept one around for nights like tonight. There was one severe downside to his chosen home. Even living high in the sky, there were no stars in Las Vegas. Her glittering beauty, all of her lights, obliterated the stars. Arrigo had dabbled in just about everything imaginable over the years, but one of his longest standing and most enjoyable hobbies was astronomy. While Vegas herself couldn’t indulge him, the desert surrounding her could.
He took his telescope and camp chair out of the truck bed and set up his spot for the night. Arrigo wished Fadil was here. His creator had been the one to introduce him to the idea of astronomy. The ancient Egyptian seemed godlike in his knowledge of the heavens back then. The truth was, Arrigo had been an uneducated dumbass who had only looked skyward to ask Mars or Jupiter for a blessing. Fadil had taught him to embrace Athena and her wisdom, rather than looking to the war gods. Some days, as a member of the Chiaroscuro, Arrigo needed wisdom as much as war.
As he peered through the scope, Arrigo wondered if Luc would like something like this. He doubted Luc had any experience with it. He didn’t seem any more educated than Arrigo had been when he was mortal, but people could learn. Fadil had taught Arrigo so much. Arrigo could do the same for Luc. He knew the thought to be arrogant and presumptuous and didn’t care. He was arrogant and always had been, even when he was a total dumbass. He had been the one so confident in himself he’d thought he could capture and control a vampire. It hadn’t helped his arrogance that he actually managed it.
There was every possibility Luc wouldn’t want Arrigo to teach him a damn thing. He had no reason to trust Arrigo. On the surface they couldn’t have less in common, forcing Arrigo to admit to himself he wanted to help Luc for the same two reasons Fadil helped him: he couldn’t stand ignorance, and he wanted to see what was hiding under the man’s trousers.
Arrigo turned his attention back to the stars, trying to convince himself he could fantasize about Luc later, sometime when there weren’t scorpions and coyotes around. His mind might have been convinced, but his cock had ideas of its own. It was all he could do to ignore it because jacking off in tarantula central was not his idea of fun.
Chapter Six
ARRIGO ROLLED over on the bed, unable to get to sleep, clueless as to why. Nothing weighed on his mind. He wasn’t even really thinking about anything, not even Luc. The sun danced high in the sky, and all he wanted was some sleep. He’d rested poorly for the last few days for no particular reason.
As he drifted off, his phone rang. He nearly knocked it off the nightstand. He still possessed a land line, a cell, too, but he didn’t trust the cell phone near his head for long periods of time after reading studies suggesting cells caused cancer. Could vampires get cancer? He’d never heard of it happening.
“Hello,” he muttered.
“Arrigo, that you, or did I call a ninety-year-old woman by mistake?” Amusement resonated in her voice.
He rubbed his face. “Siobhan? Why are you awake?”
“It’s eight in the morning your time. Most people are awake,” she replied, as bright as the sun trying to sneak around his blackout curtains.
“People, yes. Vampires, no. Tell me, fellow nightwalker, why are you calling me so ungodly early?” His sleepy mind conjured Siobhan’s pale curvy body for him, the lush fall of her red hair. Her image discouraged sleep: beds, yes; sleep, no.
Siobhan chuckled. “Nightwalker? Have you been watching too much cheesy horror?” Arrigo grunted at her, so she continued. “Do you remember Peter Kimsy?”
That woke him up. Arrigo rolled onto his back. “The Disaster Lover?”
“That’s him.”
“Has he resurfaced?” Arrigo sincerely hoped so. When a Supernatural went to ground, it could take decades, if not centuries, to roust them. Kimsy received his nickname by going from disaster, natural or man-made, to disaster, feeding off the suffering, injured, and dying. He disgusted Arrigo, especially lately because Arrigo had messed up in Cleveland, and Kimsy escaped.
“He’s dead.” Siobhan’s cheeriness better suited telling someone they were about to become a father than to deliver the news of a death.
Kimsy’s death brightened Arrigo’s day, which, if he gave it a passing thought, should probably disturb him. “Great. Who bagged him?”
“Do you know Jacob Rowe? He’s a sorcerer out of Boston, which is where I’m at now,” she said, “in case you’ve forgotten.”
Had he even known? Now with cell phones and increased mobility, Arrigo had more or less stopped keeping track of where his vampire friends were. The answer was “could be anywhere.” “Send him a beer from me.”
“He has gluten issues. I’ll give him a fruit basket.” She laughed. “Arri, how about coming to Boston for a little while? You have to be baking out there.”
He ran a finger over his chest. He had to keep the air conditioner on high. Yes, baking was a good word for it. He almost accepted, and then thought about Luc. He didn’t want to leave before at least making a play for the young man.
“How about you come to Sin City for a while?” He missed Siobhan. One of his closest friends and ofttimes lovers, he didn’t want to think about how long it’d been since he’d seen her. She’d spent the last several years working with the Chiaroscuro scientists bouncing around the world.
“I’m saving that for winter.”
“Who’s to say you can’t come back? Fadil is on the committee planning a party for us over New Year’s,” he said, knowing she’d understand “us” meant vampirekind.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Great. I have a second bedroom.”
“And no doubt a huge master bed. Or is that ta
ken?”
“Right now it’s not taken. Might change,” he replied, wondering if it made him an asshole because he considered having both Siobhan and Luc in his bed. Siobhan would go for it. He doubted Luc would entertain the idea. Of course, he hardly knew Luc. He made assumptions based on facts not in evidence. Luc seemed shy, though.
“You convinced me, I’ll book the flight now. Hey, we have a fledgling here in need of mentoring,” Siobhan said. “Want to try?”
Arrigo shuddered at the mere thought. “When have I ever wanted to mentor a new vampire?”
“Never, and you sort of suck at it,” she replied brightly. “Look how I turned out.”
He narrowed his eyes at his phone. “I wasn’t exactly your mentor.”
“Close enough. You know I’m desperate if I’m asking you.”
“I do. Pass.”
“Okay, then. I tried. Sleep tight, sweetie.”
“You too, my Irish rose.” Arrigo laughed and hung up. He rolled back over, grinning. Time with an old friend, exactly what he needed; Siobhan would help him get perspective on this whole thing with Luc. She’d either kick his ass for being dumb about it all or encourage him. He wasn’t sure which, but it would be fun finding out.
LUC HATED wasting time. He’d planned to go fishing with Lily. She had two kids, a girl and boy both younger than ten. Their dad had died of cancer. One night they’d talked over a meal and had been talking ever since. He considered her the one friend he had in Vegas. Henri and Da didn’t know about her.
Lily didn’t want to date, so Luc had assured her he just wanted to be friends. He enjoyed being a “big brother” to her kids, and Lily had the kind of family he wished he belonged to. Although kind and trusting, Lily wasn’t naive enough to let him alone with the kids. Bad stuff could happen to kids. He wasn’t sure he’d ever date if he was a single parent. The only good thing about his father was the man wasn’t a pedophile. He’d beat a child without hesitation, but as far as Luc knew, his father drew the line at raping them.
