The colonel nods. “I imagine the rest died in the desert. Some tried to assimilate in the city as humans, but they weren’t very good at it, not like you. That’s where we found most of the ones we relocated.”
It’s hard to get my mind off the wolfhounds. They were brought here to kill humans. Why should the colonel care about what happens to them? Why should I? I have to change the subject. “Who is this guy we’re picking up?”
Colonel Dayton swivels around. “His name is Charlie Nguyen. Dixie said Major Ransom insisted on his presence.”
My mind races. Who is this Charlie Nguyen guy? How long has he known Dixie, and how well do they know each other? I wrestle with an emotion humans call jealousy, but I don’t know why. Of course, I have feelings for Dixie, but it’s been two years. She’s been out in the world able to mix and mingle with all sorts of people. It’s unreasonable to assume she still has feelings for me.
Sure, one time we kissed, we hugged, and she confessed her love for me, but that was a long time ago and circumstances were much different. Times change—people change.
Colonel Dayton turns around again. “You’re pretty quiet back there, are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” A white lie, acceptable in the human world.
The enormous structures of the Las Vegas casinos loom ahead like giant castles rising from the desert. Cutty takes the Tropicana exit and crosses Las Vegas Boulevard. The Tropicana Hotel and Casino towers over us on the right. Cutty parks the car near the main entrance.
“I won’t be long, Cutty. Keep the engine running and wait here.”
“Will do, Colonel.”
Dayton gets out and enters the casino leaving me alone with Cutty.
“So,” Cutty turns in his seat, running a hand through his wild red hair, and stares at me, “what’d ya think about seeing Claremont?”
I don’t want to answer.
“That’s okay, you can tell me. We’re on the same side now. You know, I jumped ship with the colonel. He’s a helluva guy. Oh, sure, the UN was a pretty good gig and all, but I think what we’re doing now is more important, you know, good against evil and all that. Plus, Aunt Rose sets a mean table; I mean she can cook anything you want. What more does anyone need? Great food and a good cause. I mean, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that those dogs—”
“Canines,” I blurt out in an effort to stop him from saying another word. “They’re not dogs, they’re canines: Giant Irish Wolfhounds.”
“Sure, sure, I’m sorry. You know I’ve never talked to a dog, er, I mean, a canine before we started bringing supplies up to Claremont. They seem like a nice bunch, really friendly, you know? At least Tina is. It must be fun, barking and running and stuff.”
His constant prattle annoys me at first, but it doesn’t take long before I realize he’s genuinely interested. Cutty has an open, honest face, even though his eyes tend to narrow a bit when he’s on a roll, like now.
“I mean, from what Tina says, life is so much less complicated in her world. You know where you stand with the pack. And man can they run! I’ve seen Tina tear down that hill and race back up in no time. Man, what I wouldn’t give to be able to do that.”
“It has its moments.” He stares at me and I need to ask him something, now, while I have his attention, and while we’re alone. I’ve wondered about it for two years. “Tell me something, Cutty, when Colonel Dayton ordered you to hold Dixie at gunpoint, did you ever question his motive? I mean, after all, she was trying to stop The Disaster.”
“No way. I just did what he told me to do. He gave me a gun on the way up to the penthouse in the elevator and told me what to do. That night was so crazy, I didn’t even know who the hell she was then.”
“And you did it, just like that?”
“Sure.” He has a funny laugh: Yuk-yuk-yuk. “But it didn’t matter. I mean, the gun wasn’t even loaded.”
My eyes bulge. “What?”
“That was okay with me, man. I mean, I’m not a killer. I’ve never shot anyone in my life, hope I never have to. I’m a great driver, a decent pilot, and I can get you almost anything you need—but a killer? No way, man.” He laughs again. “Besides, I talked to Dixie about it, and she doesn’t hold a grudge. She’s cool about it.” The car shudders, and Cutty is instantly distracted. “Damn, I hope the A/C doesn’t quit. I hate this heat, don’t you?”
Before I can agree with him, the door opens and Colonel Dayton gets in. The door across from me opens and a woman wearing red shorts and a black tube top sidles in next to me on the bench seat. Her gold platform shoes are outrageous: at least ten inches tall, sprinkled with glitter—the most impractical footwear I’ve ever seen anyone wear (outside a cartoon character, of course).
“Gentlemen,” Dayton says, “meet Charlie Nguyen.”
I smile at her. Charlie Nguyen is a girl. My smile widens. “Nice to meet you.”
She ignores my hand. “So, you’re the dog.”
“Canine,” Cutty says. “He prefers canine.”
“Whatever,” Charlie Nguyen says. “Let’s get going.”
I notice Colonel Dayton and Cutty exchange a quiet glance, and realize it’s not just me who feels uneasy with our new passenger.
“C’mon,” Charlie Nguyen barks, “are you deaf? Let’s go.”
****
Maxwell Sullivan tipped the valet in exchange for his keys. The twin turbo-charged V-8 engine purred under the parking canopy. Max knew the jet-black luxury car was a bit over-the-top, but what the hell, he could afford it. Besides, why not greet the end of the world in style? It wasn’t his world.
“Thank you, sir,” the valet said as he pocketed the c-note tip and held the door open. “Be safe out there, sir.”
Max pushed his shades down over the bridge of his nose and studied the young man through sparkling green eyes. “Why?” With that, he slammed the door, shifted the Mercedes S-Class into first, and painted black tire tracks on the gray pavers of the Palazzo Hotel and Casino porte cochère. He caught oncoming traffic at just the right moment and powered onto The Strip.
Things couldn’t have been going better. The past two days, he spent acclimating to the Vegas lifestyle: gambling and hookers. As far as gambling was concerned, he’d just about broken even; the hookers were a different story. They hadn’t performed to his liking so he’d given them permanent reminders the customer was always right. When their pimps knocked on his door, he knocked harder on them.
The nights, however, belonged to Gorgeous.
He blew through the red light at Sahara Avenue and glared back at the blue lights in his mirror. “Shit.” He eased the Mercedes to the curb and stopped.
“Do you know why I stopped you?”
“No, I haven’t a clue, officer. Why don’t you enlighten me?” Max squinted up at the blond-haired kid behind the badge. This prick was gonna make him late.
“You failed to stop at a red light.”
“Fail to stop, my ass. I pushed on the gas—big deal.” He held two hundred-dollar bills out of the window toward the officer, as if he were at a drive-through.
“Sir, step out of the car.”
“No.”
The officer un-snapped the holster strap securing his pistol.
Max laughed. “Are you going to shoot me?”
The officer drew his pistol. Max raised a hand, twirled his fingers, and a dark blue Mustang veered toward the patrolman and clipped him, sending him to the pavement in a heap. Max reached out and dropped the bills onto the injured officer.
“I’m letting you off with a warning this time.”
Max raced up The Strip and jumped on the 95. At almost twice the posted speed limit, it took only fifteen minutes to reach the Sky Pointe Drive exit. He turned left on Moccasin Road and pulled off onto the Paiute Indian Colony land.
He turned off the car and sat with the windows rolled up, in the middle of a burning desert under the late afternoon sun. After lighting a fat cigar, he puffed smoke rings at the windshield.
<
br /> In his side view mirror, he caught billows of sand rising in a straight line a mile or so down the road. An approaching vehicle. Glancing at his Rolex, he smiled. She was right on time.
She parked the white Lexus next to his car and got out. Her ivory-colored, full-length, dress danced in the wind.
Max exited the Mercedes and strode forward to greet her, his white hair tousled by the breeze. “Gorgeous, how you doing? What gives with a daytime meeting?”
“Maxwell Sullivan. What part of low-profile do you not understand?” Gorgeous spit the words out in sharp contrast to her unwavering smile; the mask he knew so well. “You know, I had my doubts about involving you. However, you gave me your word you’d behave, and I trusted you.”
“Behave?” He grinned. “I don’t think I’m familiar with that particular human word.” He pinched the lit end of the cigar with his fingers until the fire went out. “Besides, since when can a Devil’s word be trusted?” He snickered. “Oh, come on, Gorgeous, I’m just having a little fun. After all, this is what the humans call Sin City. A little tame for my tastes, but still—”
“Two prostitutes in the hospital, their procurers in comas, and a Las Vegas Metro officer hit by a car in full view of the public, on Las Vegas Boulevard for Hell’s sake. And all this in just three days.” Gorgeous glared at him.
Max thrust out his chest, smiled, and nodded.
“You do realize I’m not praising you. I need you to keep doing your job, which has been excellent, thus far. Beyond that, I want you invisible. Do you understand?”
“Oh, but listen honey, that policeman deserved—” His throat constricted. He dropped the cigar and stared at Gorgeous through blurry eyes.
Gorgeous’s smile grew just a bit as her brows came together. “Do you think I enjoy driving like a human, through miles of desert just to see you?”
Maxwell shook his head, his hands pawing at his throat.
“That’s right, I don’t. But, unfortunately, I am not able to tele transport onto sacred ground. The good news is meeting here, your father cannot listen to our conversation; a fact you should appreciate given your brazen disregard of my commands. Listen well my young Devil, I may not be able to kill you, but endless torture is well within the scope of my terms for your use.”
Sullivan nodded and allowed a breath. He raised his hands to his throat. The word shot out like a cough, “Sure.”
“Sure, what?”
“Sure, I understand. Do my job, but keep a low profile. Invisible.”
Another plume of dust rose from the dirt road behind them. Gorgeous and Sullivan watched the vehicle approach. A brown Toyota Corolla shuddered to a stop, and a woman stepped out. She handed the keys to Gorgeous, bowed, and backed away.
“Your new ride is here,” Gorgeous said, offering the keys to Sullivan.
“What? That piece of crap? Oh, please honey—” His throat closed again.
“The vehicle is nondescript,” Gorgeous said, “practically invisible, but most reliable.”
Max nodded and took the keys. He sucked in a large breath. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. No more luxury sedans.”
“And I’ve gotten you a very nice room at the Wild Joker Motel on Fremont Street.”
“The wild what?”
“And no more gambling, and especially no more prostitutes. Is that understood?”
Max scanned the surrounding desert. He may have gotten a bit out of line and Gorgeous simply reeled him back in, that’s all. He might have done the same if he were her, maybe worse. But no more hookers? That was just mean. He swallowed and nodded.
“Good.” Gorgeous lifted her head and gazed toward the sun, as if her next words required solar assistance. “I like you, Maxwell, I really do. In fact, normally, I find it quite amusing when you misbehave. You’ve got a real style about you; a genuine penchant for perverseness.” She lowered her head as well as her voice. “A quality that reminds me of your father.”
“My father is old. He’s lost his edge.”
Gorgeous stared at him, her eyes burning like miniature suns. “I couldn’t agree more. This is your chance to effect real change…perhaps a regime change. If you perform well, your stock will rise in his eyes. He might be more willing to rely on your council, perhaps take you back into the fold, as it were.”
“I like where this is going.”
“Max, my darling, all I’m saying is I have a lot on my hands, and I’m counting on you to do your part. Crawl into the woodwork and become invisible when you’re not working. If all goes as planned, it will soon be over.”
“And after that?”
“Why, after that you can do whatever the hell you want.”
Max glowed. Gorgeous was a woman of her word. Whatever the hell he wanted sounded like heaven. He marched to the Toyota and hopped in. “Your wish, my command—all of that. I guess you know where to reach me then, my sweet. I’ll be poolside at the Wild Joker.”
“Oh, sorry Max, there’s no swimming pool. But they do have free HBO.”
Chapter Five
I can’t believe my eyes. I knew we were going to Aunt Rose’s house; still the sight of Dixie standing on the front porch takes my breath away. I make a mental note of this moment; I always want to remember it. Two long years melt away, replaced by an excitement I’ve never experienced before: desire.
I dash out of the car and race up the walkway to the porch, my arms folding around her in an instant. Her body feels warm and welcome. Her arms wrap around me as well, and we stand motionless in an embrace that blocks out everything else. The scent of her fills my lungs and I ease back, just a bit, so I can look into her eyes. Cupping her face in my hands, I cover her mouth with mine. She kisses me back with animal hunger. For two years, I’ve dreamt of this moment; dreams are over-rated.
“Okay you two,” Colonel Dayton says, slapping my back, “let’s get inside. You don’t need to give the neighborhood a free show.”
Even though I’m still kissing Dixie (or she’s kissing me, who can tell anymore), I open my eyes and see Cutty amble up the steps behind Colonel Dayton. He laughs, yuk-yuk-yuk, “Right on, dude.”
“This is just not right,” Charlie Nguyen says, following Cutty into the house, “Daemons and dogs. Not right at all.”
Now, I’m certain I don’t like Charlie Nguyen.
“Adam,” Dixie says when our lips part, “I’ve missed you so much.” She takes me by the hand. “Come inside so we can all talk. There’ll be time for us later.”
I shake my head. “No. Are you sure?”
“Oh, I’m sure.” The smile she gives me is more than just words: it’s a promise.
After a deep breath, I follow her inside, wanting to hold her in my arms again, but I have to behave. It wouldn’t be fair to the others.
“Are you two quite done? I was about to fetch a bucket of water.”
“You must be the Daemon Charlie Nguyen,” Dixie says. Her face is still a little flushed, but her voice is smooth and even; she’s in total control of the situation. “Have a seat.”
“Where’s Rosalyn?”
“Out,” Dixie says in a flat tone.
Charlie Nguyen glances around the living room, finally narrowing her gaze on Dixie. “When you see her, tell her I hope nothing bad happened to keep her away.”
“Okay,” Colonel Dayton says, “enough of that. We’re all here, now would somebody please tell me why the bloody hell we need this Daemon—”
“Language, Colonel.” Dixie waves to the couch, and Dayton sits down. “You know how Aunt Rose feels about that kind of talk.”
“You said she’s not here.”
“It’s still her house. Everybody, please sit down. I’ll get some tea. Aunt Rose has it in the kitchen. Colonel, would you help me please?”
Cutty and I sit on the couch. Charlie Nguyen strolls around the living room like a cat examining unfamiliar territory, as if taking note of quick escape routes. Finally, she decides on the rocking chair near the entrance hall.
&
nbsp; The grandfather clock bongs twelve times. I lean toward the kitchen, trying to hear what Dixie and the colonel are talking about. I only catch a few words of their whispers: Dixie asking, “How did he take it?” and Colonel Dayton answering, “Not well.”
“Now then,” Dixie says as she and the colonel return from the kitchen. He carries a silver tray with an enormous teapot, milk, and sugar. Dixie places some cups down on the coffee table. “Major Ransom brought us here. She arranged for you to be here Miss Nguyen.”
“Charlie Nguyen, if you don’t mind.”
“But she didn’t tell me the reason for your presence.”
“Isn’t it apparent, even to a good little Daemon like yourself? You need my help. Duh. What I want to know is why she chose this particular dog.” She turns to me. “We could have used any of the dogs on Claremont—why you?”
I glare at her. “Stop calling me the dog.”
“Ha!” Charlie Nguyen giggles. It’s a nasty, high-pitched snicker. “You may have the others fooled, even Major Ransom, but not me.”
“Wait a minute,” Dixie says, “how do you know Major Ransom?”
Charlie Nguyen smirks at the question and takes her time to answer. “Major Ransom speaks to me.”
Dixie reddens and takes a deep breath. “I thought—”
“You thought you were the only one she communicated with? You thought you were special? Ha! I am key to this plan. Why else do you think I’m here?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Colonel Dayton says. “How is Jean Ransom even remotely acquainted with someone like you?”
Through a sly smile, she says, “Who has not heard of Charlie Nguyen?”
“Major Ransom told me you were an evil Daemon,” Dixie says. “She said you were a major player in The Las Vegas Disaster.”
“The Las Vegas Disaster? That was no Disaster—that was a joke; one of the reasons I’m done with the evils. I remember what it was like in The Pit, and why I climbed out with The Legion, my dignity intact. We were going to clean up the mess the humans made of this world, and the only way to do that was to clean up the humans. But the plans and plots to eliminate them became so ludicrous, I felt ashamed to be a part of it. Ha! Gorgeous and her ridiculous schemes. How comical. So, I quit The Legion; jumped ship, as it were. I’d rather be known as one of the good little Daemons rather than embrace a plan to take over the world using talking dogs.”
Sin City Daemon Page 4
