Forever Wilde: Immortal Vegas, Book 6

by Jenn Stark

  “Can he do more as a corporeal being?”

  “Yes, except in one critical way. As a figment of energy, he can influence and guide, albeit not as strongly. He’s a whisper—a nudge—a flash of creative inspiration. As a being of flesh and bone, he is but one man who must follow the laws of movement through time and space. He won’t be able to know everything as easily, stir as many pots.”

  “Then why would he even risk getting caught?”

  “He’s arrogant, Miss Wilde,” Armaeus said, as if I’d goaded him into revealing an obvious truth. He threw down his napkin and stood. “He wants us to try to rein him in because he thinks…no, he knows that we cannot. He’s been preparing for this day for decades, analyzing all the possibilities, playing all the odds. What some don’t know about Tesla was that, beyond his skill as an inventor, he was also a gamesman of some renown. He wasn’t disciplined—he would lose big and win big in equal measure. But as a result, he was never afraid to try, to push the boundaries, break the rules. That’s what he’s doing now. He’s drawn out the Council to a public playing field and declared the game engaged.”

  “But we don’t have the entire Council here,” I said. “We have a bunch of mortals, and only a couple of them are Connected. Why don’t we have more support?”

  Armaeus’s smile was wintry. “Because I’m arrogant too, Miss Wilde. And I believe that I do not need the combined mass of the Council’s ability to bring Tesla to heel. I need you and the seals and several well-placed jammers to herd him into place. Once we achieve that, it comes down to a display of power—and to who burns out first.”

  “Burns out,” I echoed. “That sounds great.”

  He gestured me to precede him back inside, and I went, my mind beginning to spin now.

  “You’re going to take on an extra level of magic and try and zap him while he’s zapping you. It’s not a war of strength but endurance.” I shot him a glance. “You’re going to fry your cells even more.”

  “You forget, as an immortal, I’m perfect at the cellular level. I won’t be harmed. You won’t be harmed. The men and women of Soo’s house have the appropriate equipment to reflect Tesla’s energy, not absorb it; therefore, they won’t be harmed.”

  “The jammers.”

  He nodded, then said nothing more as we entered the limo waiting for us at the front of the house. The night had stolen down quickly, as if setting the stage for what was to come—tonight, tomorrow, I wasn’t sure. But soon.

  The drive into the downtown area was short, and Armaeus had the driver drop us up the street from the private apartment building he’d reserved off the main drag through Nashville, which would serve as our secondary headquarters. The limo dutifully pulled over near Broadway, and we stepped out into the humid night.

  I tried to puzzle out the logistics of the trap Armaeus planned to spring. “How will this herding work, exactly, if Tesla’s made of electricity? Can’t he blend in?”

  “The equipment provided to Soo’s security detail—your detail—will contribute to an electrical force field wielded before them, not through them. To pierce it would require more energy than Tesla can spare.”

  “But there’s something you’re not telling me,” I said. “There’s more to—”

  “Stop. He’s here.”

  Unwilling or unable to hide his satisfaction at drawing Tesla out, Armaeus gazed with fierce delight at the brightly lit street and the steady stream of cabs cruising by, their rooftop advertising lighting up the street. I glanced at the traffic as well, unsurprised to see every third car displaying the same ad: WHERE IS THE HANGED MAN?

  No one around us seemed to notice the message, but then—no one had noticed the false newspaper headings either. Or the digital readout.

  “Prideful bastard,” I muttered.

  “Incessantly.” Armaeus nodded. “He knows you are here, that I am as well. According to Simon, the electrical signatures above the location of Soo’s guards have been altered significantly in the past few hours. He’s scouting out their positions, identifying how he can counteract whatever attack he feels they will level. He’s also been battering the defenses of Soo’s lab, particularly as the energy-usage levels have increased there.”

  “Increased?” I asked, and the Magician managed a lopsided smile.

  “A mere distraction, courtesy of Simon.” He gestured to the street. “And, it appears, he’s watching you. That is good. That’s very good.”

  We walked up the street, the sidewalk in front of us glistening with water from a recent hose down. Armaeus pointed at it. “I suspect he’ll put his energy into whatever target entertains him most until he’s ready to make a move, but for him to be this close…” He waved his hand, and a match appeared in his fingertips, lit. He dropped the match onto the wet pavement, and the entire pool burst up into a crackling, fiery burst, flashing the words: WHERE IS THE HANGED MAN?

  “Why does he keep asking that?” I grumbled, as Armaeus steered me off the sidewalk and across the street. “We know where he is. He’s right here.”

  “I suspect there is more than one answer to the question. With Tesla, there always is.”

  “So do we move up our timetable? Force him into action tonight?” I’d also dropped my voice. “Um, can he hear us?”

  “Not in any traditional sense, no,” Armaeus said. “He can only watch and wait. And as to whether tonight versus tomorrow is better…” He smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. “I’m inclined to get this over with. Eagerness is a fool’s game, and Tesla is known for being rash. It’s good to know that there are some lessons he still hasn’t learned.”

  Armaeus pulled out his phone and placed one call. To Simon, I realized, listening to him. He might not have the full Council at his beck and call, but he wasn’t shortsighted enough to give up the leverage the technological whiz could offer him. I wondered how the two of them would like each other, Tesla and Simon. I suspected we were going to find out sooner rather than later.

  “What next?” I said as Armaeus pocketed his phone. We’d reached the apartment, and the Magician entered the lobby of the building with long strides, waving his hand in impatience as I hurried to keep up with him. The elevator dinged, and its doors opened right before we reached it, the light for the penthouse already illuminated. The carriage lurched slightly, then headed up.

  “Simon will let me know if we’re in play,” Armaeus said. He was focused now, the adrenaline starting to overtake him. The elevator’s advertising panels shifted and flashed, and the familiar words came up again. WHERE IS THE HANGED MAN?

  To my surprise, Armaeus’s smile only deepened. “He’s showing off,” he murmured. “Good. Whatever his energy levels are, they’ll eventually deplete him. When that happens, we’ll be ready.”

  The elevator swished open, and we stepped into the well-appointed hallway, the carpet thick and plush beneath our feet.

  “Why do you think he’ll be depleted?” I asked. “He can move all over the world, draw on electricity from power grids across the United States. He’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time. There’s nothing that says he’ll stay local the minute he starts to feel a little faint.”

  “There is,” Armaeus said simply. He pointed to the low table amid the overstuffed chairs that crowded the sitting room. “I assume you have your cards on you?”

  “Of course.”

  “I believe a reading would be most instructive.”

  Armaeus’s phone rang, and he checked the display, then gestured me to the table while he took the call. Despite myself, I was catching on to his adrenaline surge. I reached into my hoodie and pulled out my deck of cards, glad to feel the familiar weight of them in my hands. With Armaeus off talking tech details with Simon, I also felt separate, isolated. That was good too. The cards always played better when they didn’t have an audience to entertain.

  I sat on the couch, leaning forward to drop the cards on the coffee table, then pull the thing toward me. It was heavier than it looked, but with a grunt
, I brought it almost to my knees, then grabbed the cards again. After three quick shuffles, I fanned the cards in a semicircle, drawing my fingers along their sleek plastic surfaces.

  What’s the fastest way to catch the Hanged Man? I asked silently.

  How I drew the cards rarely mattered. They could fall out of the deck, be pulled from the stack, or be plucked from a fan like this, whatever suited the moment. But I liked the feel of smoothing the cards out on the rich cherrywood surface of the coffee table, and I didn’t stop my smile as I pulled three cards in rapid succession, flipping them upright.

  I stared.

  Magician, Ace of Wands, Knight of Wands.

  I stared. Nope. Not going to happen.

  Just as quickly, I swept up the cards again.

  “You’re ready?” Armaeus looked at me as I ran through another shuffling drill, my heart thudding almost painfully as I cut and recut the cards. I plastered a smile on my face, shaking my head, and he went back to his phone call. I focused harder this time on the cards, fighting down the blush and the spinning sensation in my stomach.

  “C’mon, help me out here,” I muttered, glaring at the cards in my hands as I shuffled them together. A card dropped out and dropped to the table, face up, taunting me. The Magician.

  “So not funny,” I muttered, but in truth I was already in trouble. Any reading I pulled after the first one wouldn’t take the first one’s place, it would merely add on to it. So a response that actually contributed to the search of the Hanged Man would be useful at this point, but it didn’t erase the fact that the cards had just instructed me in no uncertain terms to—

  “Focus,” I muttered. I fanned the cards, and without giving myself the chance to overthink my selections, I pulled three more cards.

  Fortunately, these were actually useful to the work at hand.

  The first card was the Hanged Man, as obvious a starting point as you could imagine. While in some reads this card could mean counsel to view things from a different perspective, to take a pause, or an admonition not to get too hung up on an issue, I took the card for its most basic and obvious reading: We were hunting the Hanged Man, and here he was.

  The next two cards were a little more open to interpretation, and Armaeus chose that moment to cross the room to me. He glanced down.

  “Three of Cups and Tower,” he mused. “Celebration and destruction?”

  “Probably exactly where we are, the main entertainment center of town,” I said. “Three of Cups is most focused on the ‘cups’ aspect. The Tower—could be anything. An explosion, a surprise, electrical bolts from the blue…or a tall building.” I glanced up at him. “What’s the tallest bar on Broadway? Someplace where there’d be an audience?”

  Armaeus thought about that, then nodded. “There are several bars, all of them crowded at this hour. But only a few more than a story or two. Focusing on the tallest options shouldn’t be difficult.”

  “Or it could be that we start on Broadway and end up even higher—not a bar at all, but a cell tower, maybe that bat-shaped skyscraper up the street,” I blew out a breath. “Just depends. Either way…” I tapped the Three of Cups. “We start here.” I pulled the cards toward me, some of them spilling over the side of the coffee table. Before I could reach for the extras, Armaeus stooped down for one of them, showing me the card’s face. “Ace of Wands?”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled. “New beginnings, new enterprise, new chapter.” I was babbling, but I ducked my head and shoveled the cards together, collapsing them into a messy pile. My cheeks were heating, and my nerves felt on fire, but it was right before a job. They always did that.

  “Miss Wilde.”

  Armaeus’s voice was so smooth, so normal sounding that I looked up without thinking.

  Then froze as I saw the other two cards he held. Knight of Wands and Magician.

  My gaze flew to his, and there was no denying the heat in the depths of his golden-black eyes. His mouth quirked into a grin.

  “It’s not been such a long time since I’ve done a Tarot reading that I’ve forgotten the significance of these three cards drawn together,” he said. His voice had the odd timbre of vocal projection, but I didn’t think he was doing it on purpose. I swallowed, taking the cards from him and dropping them on top of the deck.

  “The cards can mean anything,” I muttered, glancing away. “There’s a hundred different interpretations.”

  “The Ace of Wands and Knight of Wands, drawn together, mean sex. Apparently, sex with the Magician,” he said, and I winced, even as his chuckle rolled through the quiet room, sensual and suggestive. “It isn’t a bad idea, actually. Though that particular type of energy doesn’t form the basis for your abilities, it does mine. Activating it can only be a wise step.”

  He leaned forward, and I sucked in a breath, his mouth only an inch from my ear. “And it’s not actual sex that’s required, Miss Wilde. In fact, it’s less advisable. Power stirs with tension, anticipation—not the release. Not when we are preparing to fight.” He nuzzled my temple, sliding softly down to the curve of my ear. “In other words, your virtue is safe with me,” he murmured. “For now.”

  “Look, I—” My head came up automatically, and Armaeus was right there. So close, so perfect. There was no denying the electricity between us, the flood of connection that heated me from my toes to my crown, and it was as natural as day follows night for me to reach up toward him, my lips barely brushing against his.

  A crackle of electricity sparked between us, practically lighting up the room, and Armaeus laughed softly against my mouth, deepening the kiss. I lifted my hand to place against his chest, and his arms went around me, pulling me close. He flattened his hands against my back, on either side of my spine, and pressed me firmly to him.

  I jerked rigid in his arms as our bodies met, then pulled back from him just as quickly, the sensual fire burst, expanding within me, sending my eyes wide, my breath hissing between my teeth.

  “Hey!” I managed.

  Armaeus’s golden-black eyes were trained on mine. “The portal opens through you, and magic pours forth, making you strong and ready to act. Your body is primed to complete what the cycle of this magic begins, to fulfill the promise you are making. The promise strengthened by my own intent.”

  Armaeus shifted yet closer, his gaze fraying with a tinge of desperation, no matter what gobbledygook he was saying. For all his stoic proclamations of not being able to love, to want, to need—there was some part of this man who did want me. Who had to have me. Not as a possession, or at least not entirely, but as a partnership of like minds, a moment of connection that he had denied himself for more centuries than any human should.

  And suddenly—I wanted him back. Wanted this. Not for the power exchange, not for the mission. For just a moment, I wanted to look into those mysterious black-golden eyes and thaw the pain that had been carried there for too long. The grief that haunted him when he thought no one could see him, the sacrifices he’d made without any thought for the consequences, sacrifices that haunted him still.

  “Miss Wilde,” Armaeus whispered, and I brought my hands up to his face, cradling his cheeks. The flats of his palms on my back, the flats of mine to his bare skin, completed the circuit of power. Electricity popped and crackled between us, and I sensed the moment of his surrender, the gasp of his need so strong and true that it speared through me, even as his body sagged against mine, his breathing ragged. “Sara.”

  “Armaeus,” I whispered back. I pressed my lips to his, pouring every ounce of me into that kiss, even as the heat exploded within me and my bloodstream seemed to run with fire. I couldn’t breathe, could barely think as I dragged my mouth away from his, registering his crazed look, the intensity of his touch, the rasp of his tortured breath.

  I’d given up all hope of saying no to anything this man would ask…when he leaned back from me.

  “It’s done,” he said, and his gaze locked on mine, his body shifting away, breaking the contact between us even
as my own desire skyrocketed.

  “What?” I could hear my own panic, but couldn’t take it back. “You’re kidding me.”

  “Not at all.” He took in a deep breath, stepped back. The look he leveled me with was pure carnal need, but his smile was utter treachery. “We’re good. For now.”

  The sound of my phone ringing jarred us both, and I burst back from him, pulling the device from my pocket.

  “It’s Nikki,” I said unnecessarily, gasping for air. “Nikki.”

  He nodded, his eyes now as black as pitch. “Then I suggest you should answer it.”

  “Right.” I took a deep, steadying breath, then swiped the phone on.

  And that’s when I heard the screaming.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Slow down, slow down!” I must have said that phrase a dozen times to Nikki in the time it took Armaeus and me to exit the apartment building and head down the street, angling roughly for Broadway. “What happened, specifically?”

  “—tricycle!” Nikki finished, drawing in a huge ragged breath. I could hear the sound of her pounding size-thirteen boots, but I had no idea where she was running to or from. “They were there, and then—totally fried.”

  I swung my gaze to Armaeus as we swiftly crossed the street. “Who?”

  “Nigel knew them.” I heard shouted words in a terse British accent, and I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk even before Nikki repeated them.

  “Interpol agents, he said. Marguerite and Roland.”

  “Miss Wilde.” Armaeus didn’t touch me, but I stumbled forward as surely as if he’d yanked me. I looked up, around, crazily, then I saw his destination.

  “Where are you?” I asked into the phone. “How close to Broadway?”

  “Down at the bottom now.”

  “Great, we’re heading your way.” I glanced up and then I saw it. “Honky Tonk Central,” I said, swinging my gaze to the left to take in the enormous AT&T building that stood barely a block over from it. Tallest bar, tallest building in town. One way or another, this was where we needed to be.