Sin City Daemon

by Rick Newberry

  “Oh, but I can, and not only that, it would appear I am.” Gorgeous spun around, faced the man in the doorway, and raised her right hand. “Obstructum.”

  He grabbed at his throat, his dark eyes rolling back. His face turning scarlet.

  Gorgeous released her spell with a wave and he fell to his knees, drawing in big gulps of air. “Quickly now,” she said, “who are you?”

  He coughed as he took in big gulps of air. The words came out in short, raspy, shrieks, “Sebastian. I’m the stage manager for the show.”

  “Very well, Mr. Stage Manager, do you know who I am?”

  He nodded.

  “Then stand up in my presence, and tell me where I might find Mr. Knight.”

  Sebastian staggered to his feet, but kept his mouth closed. Gorgeous raised her hand toward him again, bringing a rapid response. “Lucas took off a little while ago. He’s hiring a new assistant for the act. He went to see Charlie Nguyen.”

  Gorgeous glanced at the burns in the carpet once again. “A new assistant? How interesting. Tell me, was it Miss Nguyen who recommended Gwendolyn?”

  The stage manager nodded.

  “Charlie Nguyen shows her hand; ah well, we all make choices in life.”

  Sebastian backed toward the door.

  She waved her hand. “Imobili.” He froze in place. “Before you rush off, tell me where I might find Miss Nguyen and Mr. Knight.”

  “She has a room at the Trop.”

  “Ah, the Tropicana, old Vegas. Nguyen always was a bit of a nostalgic. Perhaps she longs for the good old days when she understood the difference between right and wrong. What do you think about that, Mr. Stage Manager?”

  “Please don’t kill me.”

  “Calm down. You know I’m unable to kill. But causing you endless pain, that’s quite a different matter altogether.” Her grin widened as she brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “Now then, shall I remove a few bones from your body, or turn your skin to glass? Which would you prefer?”

  “What do you want from me?”

  She tapped his head, and he regained the ability to move. “There you are, good as new. Now tell me, and be honest, how is your telepathy?”

  His lips quivered as he answered. “Fair, I guess; better than most.”

  “Has Mr. Knight allowed you to intuit his whereabouts?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” A deep breath. “As stage manager for the act, we must be on the same page. Please Miss Gorgeous, don’t hurt—”

  “Excellent. Then here’s what you can do for me: simply keep me informed of Mr. Knight’s movements. Can you do that for me, Mr. Stage Manager?”

  He nodded, staggered across the room, and collapsed into the settee. A tear dripped down his cheek followed by a full-blown whimper.

  She sent her thoughts marching into his mind as she vanished. It’s a strong man who can show his true feelings. Be strong for me, dear Sebastian. Be strong.

  Chapter Twenty

  I jog down to the bottom of the hill where Colonel Dayton, Cutty, and Marco Ramirez gather around the remains of a deer. A dozen questions pop into my mind, but I get right to the top of my list. “Where’s Dixie?”

  Colonel Dayton shakes his head. “What do you mean? I thought she was with you.”

  “Where’s the man I bit? Where’s Aunt Rose?”

  “No one else is here,” Ramirez says. “Slow down and tell us what happened.”

  They listen to my account without interruption. I explain in detail how Dixie and I transformed and scented a carcass at the bottom of the hill; how we saw two wolfhounds—Marques and another, feasting on it. “That’s when we saw a man with a rifle sneak up from the road behind them. Aunt Rose arrived as soon as I took a bite out of the rifleman’s leg. He went down fast, but still managed to get a shot off. I climbed up the hill and found Marques, shot in the back. He’s dead.”

  “You left Dixie alone with the killer?”

  Bringing me back to my original question. “Where is she?”

  Colonel Dayton shakes his head. “I don’t know. Aunt Rose appeared out of nowhere and told us to follow her. Cutty must have been doing about fifty on that one-lane road trying to keep up with her.”

  “Yeah man,” Cutty says, “I was booking, but she soared like an eagle. Man, you shoulda seen her fly. We came zippin’ around that curve, and I had to hit the brakes ’cause of this deer. That was like a minute ago then you showed up.”

  My gut churns. I sniff the air, picking up Dixie’s scent farther down the road. Earlier, we’d discussed this very scenario—getting separated, unable to locate someone. We’d agreed to meet back at Seventh Street. “Let’s get back to Aunt Rose’s, now.”

  We pile into the sedan, and Cutty hits the gas. It takes only a few minutes to jump onto the I-15 heading north. On the way, we discuss what might have taken place. I’m certain Dixie and Aunt Rose “airlifted” my bite victim back to Seventh Street. I don’t know how Daemons tele transport, but I want that to be the explanation. Any other alternative is too distressing to think about at this point.

  “We have to consider the alternatives,” Colonel Dayton says.

  “No.” I can’t get the word out fast enough. “We don’t.”

  The neon of the city is a blur as Cutty hustles around slower traffic and barrels toward the Charleston exit. He brakes hard, almost skidding off the freeway. Stoplights don’t seem to bother him; we race down Seventh Street in no time at all. Cutty slams against the curb and shuts off the engine as the rest of us jump out. The house is quiet, deserted.

  I’m in a dead sprint for the front door with Colonel Dayton, Cutty, and Ramirez not even close. They catch up to me on the porch as I turn the doorknob. When we break through the door, my heart sinks. The entrance way is dark and quiet, the only noise coming from the tick-tock, tick-tock of the grandfather clock.

  The creaking of the back door sends us racing into the kitchen. I flip on the light as Cutty darts across the linoleum and reaches for the door.

  “Be gone.” The voice is loud, frightened, and familiar. Charlie Nguyen.

  “Where’s Aunt Rose?” Cutty yells at her.

  Charlie Nguyen shrieks. Her eyes are wide, her mouth opened in terror. “Don’t come any closer.” She raises her hands at him, fingers spread, is if she’s about to cast a spell.

  “Stop.” I step in front of Cutty. “Calm down and come back inside.”

  “Adam?” She squints at me, recognition dawning on her face. “What are you doing here?”

  “Come inside.”

  Cutty shuts the door behind her and repeats his question. “Where’s Aunt Rose?”

  Charlie Nguyen closes her eyes and says in a whisper, “Her light is gone.”

  “What does that mean?” Colonel Dayton says.

  She ignores him and continues speaking in a soft, unhurried tone, “Aunt Rose is gone, and now I’m Gorgeous’s target.”

  “For the last time, where’s Dixie?”

  She turns around in slow motion and steps to the back door. “I must leave.”

  Colonel Dayton and Ramirez take hold of her arms and lead her back to the table. She’s compliant, pliable, as if sleepwalking. She allows them to place her in a chair.

  “Tell us what happened,” Dayton says.

  “I have a strong connection to Roselynn,” she says in her trance-like state. “The connection is broken. Roselynn Chase is dead.”

  I lean down and shout, “Tell us where Dixie is.”

  Charlie Nguyen closes her eyes and lowers her head. “I have no connection whatsoever with Dixie.” All at once, her eyes spring open and dart about the room in a classic fight or flight type of behavior.

  I put a hand on her shoulder, a reassuring touch to try to calm her down. “Can you contact Major Ransom? We need something, anything, to go on.”

  Her breathing settles down, and she closes her eyes again. Time drags by as we wait for an answer. Even though her appearance went from turbulent to tranquil, I sense she’s still d
istressed. In fact, for whatever reason, I feel empathy for Charlie Nguyen. She’s scared to death.

  Her words come out choppy. “Major Ransom says Dixie is at the Wynn Hotel. She’s being held in room 1711 against her will.”

  My heart thumps in my chest. Now I’m scared to death.

  Nguyen’s next words frighten me even more. “Major Ransom fears for her life.”

  ****

  Dixie, wake up. You wake up this very instant, do you hear me, young lady? We don’t have much time. Dixie Mulholland, wake up.

  The voice invading Dixie’s mind pleaded, screaming to be heard, the voice of Major Jean Ransom. Despite the major’s urgency, Dixie couldn’t react. Her legs and arms felt like wet noodles; her body weak and sluggish. She used every ounce of strength to raise her eyelids to half-mast. Nothing came into focus, as if viewing the world through a pane of glass seared by smoke. Her head ached, the thud-thud-thud of her heartbeat pounding away like a bass drum inside her ears. She felt sick to her stomach.

  She managed a rough thought, hearing it rumble around in her mind. “Where am I?” Major Ransom did not answer, so she tried again, this time concentrating on each word, “Where-am-I?”

  You have to get out of this place right away.

  Major Ransom may as well have asked her to jump up and run a marathon. Not going to happen. Feeling the presence of someone else close by, Dixie concentrated on shifting her gaze to the right. It took a world of effort, but she got it done. A man sat limp on the couch next to her. What the hell’s happening? Who’s that man?

  He and Gorgeous overpowered you. She put you into a submission spell. It can be broken, but you have to do exactly what I say.

  Where’s Aunt Rose? Where’s Adam? I can’t remember anything.

  Save your questions. Let’s concentrate on the spell. Listen to me. Close your eyes tight—c’mon, squeeze them shut.

  That was easy. Step one complete.

  Good, now draw as much air into your lungs as you can. That’s right. Now I want you to concentrate on—

  Dixie rummaged through her thoughts, sifting through what she’d been taught during The Sufferings. No actual lectures, lessons, or tests existed, per se. The whole thing entailed a compressed mix of knowledge force fed into her memories for later recall. Wait, I know how to break the spell.

  The submission spell wasn’t the easiest to overcome, but not the toughest either. It had to do with decontaminating her respiratory system. The science was sound, like a vacuum cleaner running in reverse, but the application a challenge.

  She drew in a large gulp of fresh air, forcing her lungs to expand fully. When she exhaled, she concentrated on pushing out every last ounce of air. She repeated this cycle again. Then again. Finally, after another large breath, a small puff of light gray smoke drifted from her mouth as she exhaled. Her next breath forced out a murkier stream of smoke. On each successive exhale, the smoke turned darker. She continued the procedure until the smoke lightened, eventually clearing altogether. Her vision improved, and she regained movement.

  Good job.

  Dixie examined the man passed out on the couch next to her. Who’s that? His right leg featured torn flesh and dried blood. All at once, she remembered: this was the man Adam had bitten, the man with the rifle on Claremont. Visions of green and blue light flashed through her memory. Where’s Aunt Rose? The question came with apprehension. The man sitting next to her groaned. Who’s this man?

  I have no idea who he is. His identity is masked from me, like he’s been Photoshopped from my vision. C’mon, you have to get out of here.

  No. Tell me where Aunt Rose is.

  There isn’t time to explain. Gorgeous could come back any minute.

  The door to the suite flew open. Dixie did a double take as the man next to her moaned. She sat up and leaned away from him.

  “Dixie.” Adam’s voice sounded just like music on Christmas morning. Colonel Dayton and Marco Ramirez ran into the suite after him, guns held at their sides. Adam crouched down, taking her in his arms. “I was so worried about you. Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “We gotta find Aunt Rose and get out of here. Major Ransom says Gorgeous is on her way back. Where are we anyway?”

  “The Wynn Hotel,” Ramirez said. He pointed his gun at the man on the couch next to her. “Who’s that?”

  “No time to find out,” Colonel Dayton said. “Let’s take him with us.”

  “Right. Cutty’s waiting downstairs with the car.”

  “Look at his leg,” Adam said. “He’s the guy I bit at Claremont.”

  The man’s eyes sparked to life. They were bright red, the kind of eyes that ruin a family photo. In an instant, he jumped up from the couch, screaming as he put his full weight on his injured leg. “You’re fucking dead.” He lunged at Adam, and they tumbled to the floor in a heap. The man lashed out and punched Adam square in the eye. “I’m gonna rip you apart.”

  Adam rolled over, sending a fist to the man’s windpipe. The man staggered back, spitting out a stream of black phlegm. Dayton and Ramirez trained their revolvers on him.

  “No,” Dixie yelled, “don’t shoot. We need answers.”

  The man vaulted to his feet, screeching at the top of his lungs, an ungodly noise filling the room. He pounced at Adam again. Adam clobbered the man with two quick uppercuts. A black light flashed in the room, blinding everyone for a moment, accompanied by the ghastly scent of rotten eggs. Dark ooze poured from the man’s mouth as he glared at Adam and crumpled to the floor, his eyes turning black. He was dead.

  Oh my God. Major Ransom’s thoughts entered Dixie’s mind. His identity has been revealed. This man is the Devil’s son. He killed Aunt Rose. I’m so sorry, Dixie.

  Dixie rushed into Adam’s arms, tears streaming down her face. “Get me out of here.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Charlie Nguyen materialized in her suite at the Tropicana Hotel and Casino. Her yellow vapor vanished, slowly dissipating in the darkness. She kept the light off and rummaged around in the closet, the only illumination provided by the steady glow of The Strip outside her window.

  She tossed a few dresses onto the bed then stooped down, gathering an armful of sandals, pumps, and boots. They, too, thrown willy-nilly, on the bed. She knelt on the carpet, pulled open her suitcase, and rifled through the dresser drawer. She flung panties, bras, shirts, and jewelry into the case. A buzzing noise from the hallway caught her attention. Damn ice machine. How annoying.

  “I couldn’t agree more.” The lamp by the bed flicked on.

  Nguyen spun around. “Gorgeous.”

  Gorgeous couldn’t help but broaden the steady grin she wore as she approached Nguyen. “Leaving Las Vegas so soon? What’s your rush? Noisy ice machine bothering you?”

  “You will allow Charlie Nguyen to leave this room at once.”

  Gorgeous scowled and choked back a cackle. “Such brave words, but I will not.”

  “But you cannot kill Charlie Nguyen, and I cannot kill you; it’s a stalemate.” She stood up and plopped the open suitcase on the bed. Her movements were quick and nervous. Clothes went into the suitcase, brought out, and tossed back in again.

  “I smell your fear,” Gorgeous said. “It’s true, I may not be able to kill you, but you will never leave this room alive.”

  Charlie Nguyen marched to the door and tried the handle. It would not budge. Her hands rose into the air as she whirled around.

  “Excurato,” Gorgeous said. She always deciphered Nguyen’s feeble attempts at casting spells. “There, your powers are useless to you. You can’t even fly away in your urine-colored mist.”

  “It’s yellow.” Charlie Nguyen held her chin up. “The color of the sun.”

  “The color of piss, if you ask me. And your scent is quite nauseating.”

  “Sunflower. You know that, bitch.”

  “Oh my, how defiant. And from one whom I used to consider such a close associate. Why you chose to leave our cause and join such a bungling b
and of do-gooders is beyond me, it really is. Rosalyn Chase is dead, you know. And her little mixed-breed tribe is next on my list, after you.”

  “You talk-talk-talk, always talk. You tried to eliminate the humans forever. If you want to know why I switched sides, I’ll tell you: you. It occurred to me, after your last failure, the human race will never be destroyed, not with your ridiculous plans. You’re a joke.”

  For just a moment, the grin faded, replaced by a vicious glare. Gorgeous raised her hands, directing them at Nguyen. “Imobili.”

  Charlie Nguyen froze, a living statute, unable to move.

  “There, that’s better,” Gorgeous said as she paced the room. She took a casual tone. “I understand you’re familiar with Lucas Knight. You recommended an assistant to him for his act, Gwendolyn. Poor girl. Apparently, Lucas was not very happy with her work; he fired her.” She approached Nguyen, fixing her eyes on the immobilized Daemon. “You see, Mr. Knight possesses an ability which, I must confess, leaves me quite envious. Even though I may not be permitted to kill you, dear friend, Lucas Knight can.”

  Charlie Nguyen’s eyes shut tight, her face turning white.

  Gorgeous stepped away and continued wandering the room. “How or why he was bestowed with such a gift, I haven’t a clue. One thing I’m certain of, however, is he’ll arrive any minute. Then we’ll see who the joke is.”

  A double knock sounded from the door.

  “Ah, Mr. Knight has arrived.” She stepped around the motionless Nguyen and pulled open the door.

  “What are you doing here, Gorgeous?” Lucas Knight’s voice filled the room.

  “My, my, haven’t we discussed your greetings before?” Gorgeous closed the door behind Knight as he stepped into the suite. “I’m here because I have a slight problem with Miss Nguyen. In fact, Miss Nguyen is the problem.”

  Lucas Knight eyed Nguyen. “How interesting.” He turned back, staring at Gorgeous. “In that case, there seem to be two problems in this room.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Oh, you haven’t heard?” He grinned and lifted his arms at her.

  “You dare raise a hand to me? My Devil will end you, you worthless—”