Uh-oh. Either she was crazy or she was an empath to shades. I hadn’t run into many of those in my travels. It was a shade who was bothering her, not a living man. That’s why he couldn’t see me. In this realm, the gods are not visible to shades, for fear of confusion. Until their business on this plane was finished, they wouldn’t or couldn’t cross to the Underworld. People like this woman often aided them in their quest for closure.
Before I could answer, another man, with bulging biceps, sandy hair, and a wide smile, approached us. “Hey, Stacy.” He kissed her. “Got us both signed up for the next Texas Hold’em tournament.” He looked at me. “Hi.”
Texas Hold’em tournament? If only there was time.
Stacy said, “Um, Chance, this is…”
I blurted, “Sorry to interrupt.” It was best not to tempt fate, best not to give her any inkling of who—and what—I was.
By the time she opened her mouth to speak, I was learning to run in heels.
I looked back, just once, and she was staring at me, a gleam of knowing in her eye.
Outside, in the oppressive heat, Archer was impatiently tapping his foot and looking at his watch. He spotted me. “Finally. Come on—we can’t be late.”
I slipped into the cab and noticed he was holding a couple of paper bags. One smelled of beef and mustard.
“You can’t be hungry again,” I said.
Archer tapped the bag. “It’s not for me. It’s for a friend.” He winked.
He gave the cab driver an address, and we circled around the parking area and exited down a side street.
I wasn’t certain where we were headed, but this road didn’t seem as active and bright as the one we had traveled the day before. There were still plenty of casinos and eateries, but not as many people, or people dressed as furry animals.
Where were these tunnels?
It wasn’t long before the cab stopped and we got out. Archer tipped the driver with money he had taken straight from his pocket. I noticed he didn’t have a wallet, as many mortals carried. Just his badge in a black case.
Had his murderer stolen it? If so, why hadn’t he taken the badge too?
We walked a few blocks, turned a few times, and climbed down some steps, until we came upon a cement tunnel large enough to pass through walking upright.
“What is this place?” I asked.
“This is the entrance to the tunnels. We’re about to walk under the city of Las Vegas.”
That was the best news I had heard since I’d gotten here. “You mean, the city itself has an Underworld?”
“In a way, yes. People live here. Hundreds of them.”
If I had the choice between living aboveground in Las Vegas and below, I’d certainly choose the latter. However, that didn’t seem like something a mortal would choose.
“Why?” I asked.
Archer said, “Some folks are just down on their luck. Lost a job, a spouse, maybe. Others are struggling with addiction problems. They had no place else to go, so they came here. They make the best of a bad situation.” Archer stepped deeper into the tunnel. “You’d be amazed by what they do with so little.”
“So if they live here and they don’t have jobs, then why were we going to be late?”
“My contact.” Archer stepped over a broken bottle, then held his hand out to assist me. “He likes to keep a tight schedule. Many of these people work the casinos in the daytime, looking for chips gamblers may have dropped, ticket stubs left in slot machines, loose change, things like that.”
We stepped even farther into the tunnel, and I could feel myself strengthening. It was dark here, cooler too. It wasn’t home, but it was better than the desert. Beneath their invisibility spell, my wings ruffled.
Archer led us through the tunnel to a boarded-up passage.
“Looks like it’s blocked,” I said.
“Not blocked. That’s a wall.” He knocked. “Jeremy, man, can you let me through? I brought your favorite.”
There was some shuffling behind the board. It inched aside, and a small young man in a camouflage jacket appeared through the crack in the wall. He was smoking a cigarette.
He said, in a raspy voice, “What’s the pass code?”
“Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame-seed bun.”
“Who’s your friend?” Jeremy asked, eyeing me. He blew a ring of smoke out through the crack, and it floated up through the tunnel.
“Agent Ninety-Nine,” said Archer.
I didn’t know what that meant, but I decided I also didn’t care.
Jeremy looked suspicious. “She’s taller than I remember.”
“It’s a new formula. Growth juice. She can fly too.”
Why would he tell him that? I stiffened.
Jeremy broke out into a wide smile and opened the wall. “Archer, my man! Great to see you!” The young man wore his hair in a ponytail that trailed to his knees.
“Brought you your favorite.” Archer pulled out a sandwich wrapped in paper.
“Extra pickles?”
“Of course.”
“No onion?” Jeremy unwrapped the cheeseburger and sniffed.
“You smell bad enough.”
Jeremy bit into his sandwich, smiling at both Archer and me.
“You need smokes?” Archer held up a package with gold lettering on it.
“No, man. Trying to quit. I found a weight set someone was tossing out near that shitty apartment I used to live in.” Jeremy lifted his left arm, which was the circumference of a shower rod, still holding the cigarette. “Gonna start working out. Get in shape.”
He devoured the sandwich in a few bites and wiped his mouth. “Would you like to come in? I got a new book on tape. Stephen King, man. Traded it for an iPod I found.”
“We’re just passing through, buddy, but thanks.” Archer patted his shoulder. “I’m actually looking for Tommy.”
Jeremy thought for a moment and said, “Man, I haven’t seen that guy in days.”
Archer stood a bit taller. “Oh yeah? Since when, do you think?”
Jeremy scratched his hairless chin. “I don’t know, maybe Tuesday?”
Archer gave me a foul look.
“You guys need a flashlight?” Jeremy said.
The frown faded, and Archer smiled at the young man. “What do you think?”
“Right, right, Secret Agent Man.” Jeremy looked at me with kind eyes. “Nice meeting you, Ninety-Nine.”
“Likewise,” I said.
“Let’s go, Ninety-Nine. We have a mission,” Archer said.
We certainly did. Tuesday was the day Archer had died.
Chapter 14
“Jeremy is a huge Get Smart fan. It’s an old TV show. Ever hear of it?”
“No.” I said it in a way that warned I didn’t want to either. Archer dropped the subject.
He was concerned about something—perhaps what Jeremy had told him about the last time he had seen Archer’s informant.
“What’s troubling you?” I asked.
“I don’t believe in coincidences is all. Tommy hasn’t been seen since last Tuesday, the day I got whacked. I hope to hell he’s all right.”
The farther we made our way through the dank tunnel, the darker it got. Archer had a small flashlight to guide our way, but my eyes were used to navigating the darkness. I could feel my energy returning bit by bit. I felt empowered. My cloaked wings twitched behind, begging for flight.
The bags Archer had brought with us contained food, cigarettes, batteries, and packs of matches that he passed out as offerings to various people in exchange for passage through their homes. Archer explained how the tunnels were designed to expel excess water from the city and that occasionally they did flood. They ran, he told me, all the way from Las Vegas to California.
“Some of these folks have been here for years,” he said sadly. “These are the real lost ones, as you call them.”
We passed through a young couple’s “apartment,”
where I saw signs of a child living there: a teddy bear, a fire truck. When I asked Archer about it, he said, “They keep them hidden. I’m sure they’re here, but the local police have yet to find any. It’s a tight-knit community down here. Most folks look out for one another.”
“And this contact? Why are we searching for him?” I stepped around a bookcase built out of wooden fruit crates. It still smelled like bananas.
“Tommy is my informant. Every city has its underbelly, and I don’t mean this.” He swept his arm across the tunnel. “I mean the dark side. Drugs, gangs, prostitution, trafficking. And every city has its snitches. He’s a pretty good guy when he’s clean. He was busted for drugs a few times. The last time, he wanted to strike a deal with the local prosecutor. He’d keep the boys in blue up to speed on any major activity, and they’d reduce his sentence. It’s worked out well for both sides. Last year, he got wind of a major drug shipment that was coming in from the coast. That’s when I met him.”
“How did he know about it?”
Archer slid a glance my way. “He doesn’t tell, and I don’t ask anymore. I’m just glad he’s on our side.”
“And the missing women?” I asked. “Did he know anything about the women?”
Archer frowned. “Didn’t get a chance to ask him before…”
“I see.”
Archer sighed. “Hope he’s all right.”
After a few silent moments, we turned a corner. There was a sliver of light peeking through a dirty blue sheet.
“This is it. This is where he lives. Hopefully,” Archer said. “Yo, Tommy.”
I heard the squeak of bedsprings, some movement.
“Who’s there?” Tommy’s voice cracked as he spoke. Almost like he was afraid.
“An old friend.” Archer smiled.
Tommy mumbled. “Go away.”
“Tommy, it’s me, Archer.”
There was a long silence. Then the sheet was flung to the side and a very small man the size of a satyr stood there. He was holding a very large knife.
“Whoa, Tommy, what the hell? Not happy to see me?” There was an edge to my partner’s voice. A hesitation.
Was this Archer’s killer?
Tommy was visibly shaken. His face turned white as lightning, and he backed up. “No. No, it can’t be. You’re a ghost, man!”
Then he turned and ran like mad.
Archer took off after Tommy, and I followed. He was weaving around walls of boxes, cardboard, old doors, and plywood, keeping pace with the small man. I was right behind them when a metal rod crashed down in front of me.
I stopped short, nearly toppled over, in fact.
There was a woman standing in front of me with glazed eyes. She swayed a bit.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she barked.
“Passing through.”
“No one passes through my casa without paying a toll.”
Was she serious? I thought about Archer’s handing out all those gifts he had brought for the tenants of the tunnels. Except now he was gone. And I had nothing to offer.
The woman blew a strand of blond hair from her sallow face. Her eyes were vacant, bloodshot. She was wearing overalls and a bathrobe. She smelled of gin and sin.
The woman took a step forward, threatening to do something more serious with that rod.
“I’m afraid I have nothing to offer,” I said, scanning the space beyond her. The light was thicker here. The exit had to be just beyond her apartment.
“A pretty thing like you? All dressed up in those fancy clothes? You got nothin’? No wallet? Bullshit.” She spat that last part out.
I really didn’t have time or patience for this. “Look at what I’m wearing, woman. Where would I put it?” Honestly, even my hip bones were visible through these tight pants.
She curled her lip, thought a moment. “Good point.”
“Thank you.” I stepped forward, and she poked the rod, or pipe, or whatever the rusty thing was, at my stomach.
Mind your fury, Tisiphone, I thought as my blood roiled. Mind your fury.
“Not so fast, missy,” said the woman. Her face contorted into a map of sagging lines as she thought.
“Can we hurry this along, please?” I really didn’t want to discipline her. She seemed as if she’d had her share of punishment.
“Tell you what.” She lowered the rod. “Give me them shoes.”
“What?” I wasn’t fond of them, but they were the only things standing between me and the disgusting ground that was littered with candy wrappers, stale bread, and gods knew what else. Then a horrible thought hit me. Where did these people relieve themselves? I shivered.
“Your shoes!” she snarled.
Oh, for the love of Zeus.
I crossed my arms. “I am not giving you my shoes. There’s broken glass, cigarette butts, and Hades knows what else on these streets.”
She considered this. “Tell you what, missy. I’ll trade ya.”
Well, this just kept getting better.
I looked down at her worn pink slippers. Her cracked, rough heels hung off the back. There were brown stains smeared across them that I could only hope were from chocolate, and the left one had a huge hole in the toe.
The woman followed my gaze. “Oh, no you don’t. Them’s my lucky slippers. Won my first hundred in these slippers. I got something else in mind.”
I expected her to pull out two empty shoe boxes for me to slip into. Instead, she rummaged around her space and presented a pair of white leather running shoes that looked brand new.
“Seriously?” I asked.
“What? You don’t like ’em? They’re perfectly good sneakers. Found them at the Salvation Army. Nickel apiece.”
“Why don’t you want them?” I mean, really, they were better than what both of us had on our feet.
She glared at the shoes. “No style. I was gonna gussy them up, but I couldn’t find any green paint.”
I wanted this nightmare of a conversation to end, so I accepted the shoes. I put one on, then the other, handing the woman the leopard platform stilettos one at a time.
The running shoes were two different sizes, each with a different pattern. One was too big, the other too small.
“Nice doin’ business with ya.” The woman set the bar down and stepped aside.
I rushed out of there as fast as I could and didn’t look back.
I heard voices to the right of the cement drain that led to the tunnels. I climbed up the embankment and spotted Archer and Tommy. The knife was some feet away from the men, as if Tommy had dropped it.
“You gotta believe me, Arch. I’m telling you the truth,” Tommy was pleading.
The sun was bouncing off Archer’s hair as he ran a hand through it. He blew out a sigh and said, “I believe you. Just lay low for a while, all right? Until I get to the bottom of this. I don’t want you buying, I don’t even want you using.”
“Sure, sure,” Tommy said.
“And remember, you never saw me. Understood?”
The small man nodded.
“Beat it now,” Archer said.
I watched as Tommy scuttled down the cement embankment and disappeared into the black mouth of the tunnel.
Behind me, I heard a screech. I got the distinct sensation that someone was watching me. I spun around to see a huge black bird flap its wings once, then disappear.
Only it wasn’t a bird native to this world.
“Did you see that?” I yelled to Archer.
“See what?” He was ascending the hill.
“That bird. Big one.” I turned to face the lawman. “Did you?”
“No. Why? What’s the big deal?”
I looked to where it had melted into the sky, scanning the endless blue for a slit, a tear, a rip. I didn’t see one. Had I imagined it? Perhaps it was a creature of this plane after all.
As Archer and I started walking back toward Caesars Palace, he launched into telling me what he had discussed with Tommy.
Because if that thing was what I thought it was, this was far more serious than any of us had imagined.
For the first time since I had arrived here, I wasn’t angry.
I was frightened.
Chapter 15
He hadn’t meant to kill her. She was just so lovely. Her skin so translucent, so pale, it nearly glowed. He couldn’t stop cutting it. And her hair! That thick black mass of curls. He could have fashioned a blanket out of it and worn it all around town.
Of course, now there was a mess to clean up.
And he was one playmate short.
No matter. When his partner arrived, they would have to devise a plan to get another one. Shouldn’t be too hard. This was Vegas, after all. Plenty of sluts to choose from. He preferred the spot where he had found the others, because of the energy, but if he had to, he could search elsewhere.
He heated up some black coffee on the one functioning burner of the cracked porcelain stovetop. When it was good and hot, he poured it into a cup and sat down.
The others were much better behaved now. They still whimpered occasionally, but they had stopped pleading after they had watched him drink her blood. Not a lot, of course—it wasn’t like he was one of those lunatics who believed they were vampires. But he liked the taste of a fresh kill, and he found it enlivened his soul to feed on his victims.
But that other one—the troublemaker—she was still a pain in the ass. God, he wished he could cut her tongue out, carve her eyes out. He cringed. Those eyes gave him the willies, truth be told. The way they sparkled like… like there were diamonds in them or something.
They reminded him of someone.
So, naturally, he had to blindfold her. Gagged her too, because her spitting habit was disgusting. She was tied up good and tight as a reminder to the others that there were fates worse than death.
Fate: what a funny concept. As if fate had anything to do with anything. Were these women fated to cross his path at just the right time? Were they fated to become his playmates, his tools for the upcoming party?
He laughed at that and sipped his coffee. Then again, maybe they were. What were the odds of finding five women who all fit the profile? Not very good, he imagined. Then again, this was Vegas. The house always won.
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