Dragon Bites: Stormwalker, Book 6

by Allyson James

  I dried my hands and faced them. “So your idiot husband not only wants a trophy wife, but a trophy girlfriend too?” I asked the teary-eyed woman.

  “This really is none of your business,” her friend began, but my heart went out to the poor crying rich girl who was learning that money couldn’t buy her everything. I’d grown up in a trailer with a drunk, and even I knew that.

  I tossed my terrycloth towel into a hamper—no paper towels for this bathroom. “Here’s what you do,” I said. “You find the hottest guy in this place and flirt like hell with him. Take him dancing, buy him drinks. Make the dickhead you’re married to realize you aren’t going to roll over and let him cheat on you. Then you hire a limo for yourself, the hot guy, and your girlfriends, and you go out on the town. Steal your husband’s phone before you go, drop it on the ground in front of the limo and tell the driver to run over it. I have a car waiting out front—driver’s name is Amos. He’ll help you out. Tell him Gabrielle sent you.”

  The sad woman listened, her eyes swimming with tears. “I’m not sure I could do that.”

  “Why not?” I put my hands on my hips. “Sounds like your perfect husband doesn’t appreciate you. Sell those rocks he gave you, buy your own place, and find yourself a boy toy.”

  She shook her head while her friend listened, open-mouthed. “I don’t want that,” the cheated-on woman said. “I just want things the way they used to be.”

  “Take it from me, sweetie, no, you don’t. You want what you think you had—I bet your husband was a philandering asshole from day one, just good at hiding it. Take your own life into your hands, and tell him to suck on it. If you don’t let him have a hold on you—then you win.” If only my stepmom had listened to me when I’d tried to tell her that.

  “I think I agree with her,” her friend said, sounding surprised at herself. “Allan is a shit. I always thought you were too good for him.”

  “There you go.” I spread my hands. “Don’t forget—steal cell phone, smash it. First, though, maybe send some texts to the girlfriend—you know, like they’re from him. ‘I decided I hated you, bitch.’ Or ‘You’re so ugly, looking at you gives me a migraine.’”

  The friend laughed quietly, and even crying girl smiled through her tears. Maybe they weren’t so bad for privileged, rich, flawless women. I guess not everyone’s life is ideal.

  I tipped them a wink and moved out the bathroom door. Look at me doing all kinds of good deeds tonight.

  Waving again at the security guard, I went to the cashier’s counter to pick up some chips.

  I can’t do mind magic—like put people in trances or anything—only the simple suggestion like with Amos—but I made the computer on the other side of the cage think I’d handed the lady a good credit card, and it told her to give me about ten grand in chips. I’d done a similar thing to get the hotel suite for Janet.

  I distracted the cashier with patter, and she shoved chips at me, looking faintly puzzled. There were so many chips, she gave me a little wooden carrier for them. I thought I looked elegant gliding through the casino, my neatly stacked chip carrier at my side.

  The two ladies came out of the bathroom. They pasted bright smiles on their faces as they approached a group of sleek-suited men who took no notice of them.

  What was with these guys? Were they so convinced that their women would drop their panties whenever they snapped their fingers that they no longer had to be decent to them?

  Bought and paid for, I heard Grandmother Begay’s voice in my head.

  I paused a step. When did I start thinking of Ruby Begay as Grandmother? She wasn’t my grandmother.

  Pushing the troubling thought aside I changed my direction to make for the guys. The two ladies, still a few yards from their husbands, caught sight of me. Which one? I mimed at them.

  The friend gestured to the tallest one, with blond hair, cool blue eyes, and a superior smile. He was trying to dominate the conversation, making his friends acknowledge that he was leader.

  I headed for him. A couple of the men in the small group saw me coming. They showed interest—of course they did. I was cute, young, wearing a tight blue dress with shimmering sequins, and I wasn’t married to them.

  One said, “Hey, darling, what’s your rush?”

  I ignored him. I pretended to trip and banged right into Allan the Dickhead.

  He looked down at me with scorn that quickly turned to lechery as he steadied me on my feet. “Careful, honey.” He looked me up and down and said, “Out of curiosity, are you Asian?”

  A lot of people mistook Indians for Asians. Thank that land bridge in Alaska so many eons ago. “Chinese,” I lied.

  “I like Chinese,” another of them quipped. “Got any fortune cookies, honey?”

  Could they disparage any more races at the same time? They were all dickheads.

  Janet would be proud of me, because I did not toast the whole group and dust their ashes off my hands. I kept to my objective and turned away, tossing a little smile over my shoulder as I went.

  “Sorry, dudes. See ya.”

  As I passed the two ladies on my way to the card tables I slipped Allan’s phone, which I’d lifted from his coat pocket, to the friend—she’d make sure crying girl followed my advice.

  “You can do so much better than those assholes,” I said. “Hey, come partying with me—we’ll find us some sweet guys and go dancing.”

  Both shook their heads, as I knew they would. They were too afraid to break free at the moment, but I’d planted the idea in their heads. They had a spark of defiance in their eyes as they regarded the cluster of men, who were busy looking at me, not their wives, the shitheads.

  Those guys were so screwed, and they didn’t even know it yet. I laughed as I sauntered away. Mission accomplished.

  And then I saw him. Not so much him as the aura of black, white, and brilliant red that wrapped him like a cloak. The power washing off him—a blast of Earth magic like I’ve never felt before—brushed against my Beneath magic and sent every nerve buzzing.

  I’d found him.

  The dragon slayer. Right in front of me.

  Chapter Seven

  Gabrielle

  I came to a dead halt, my hand tightening on my chip holder as I prepared to draw on my power for the kill. Teach him to mess with my dragons.

  The dragon slayer looked right through me. He glanced around, as though checking out the casino, but never noticed me frozen in place, gaping at him. My jaw had to be on my chest.

  I snapped my mouth closed, relieved but at the same time offended. Couldn’t he sense that the bad-assest mage in the Southwest was right in front of him?

  Apparently not. Maybe because I wasn’t a dragon? Or a snake-bodied demon? Or did he just not think me a threat?

  He turned away and moseyed through the casino, scanning the tables before he chose one. Passing the time before he hunted another dragon?

  I followed, doing my best to look innocent. Men tried to stop me as I slid past them—asking if I were alone, if I wanted company, if they could buy me a drink. Because of course, a young woman walking around by herself could only be dying to hook up with a guy, any guy.

  I brushed past these eager gentlemen—or gave them a shove out of my way if they were too insistent. I didn’t want to use magic to push them aside, because that might alert the dragon slayer. He hadn’t noticed me as a girl in a slinky dress, but guys flying across the room on a jolt of power might give him a clue.

  The dragon slayer bulked out his elegant suit, like a wrestler who’d stuffed himself into formalwear to glad-hand the right people. His hair was a cross between brown and blond, as if he couldn’t decide, and his eyes were dark in a squarish, flat face, nose a little beaky. Not bad looking—in a brutish way—but Amos, my driver, was much more handsome.

  The dragon slayer sat down at a baccarat table. I slid onto the empty seat at the other end of the horseshoe-shaped table, setting my rack of chips on the green felt.

  I’d
never played baccarat before, but I figured it couldn’t be all that hard. Casino games are fairly easy—it’s knowing how much to bet and when to stop that’s difficult.

  The baccarat tables I’d glimpsed in other casinos had been tan with bright markings, but this one had an old-fashioned feel to it, like the rest of the hotel, as though we’d been transported back a hundred years ago to a posh place on the Riviera.

  I studied the numbers and words painted on the felt but had no idea what to do.

  “You can bet on the bank or your own hand,” a well-dressed, silver-haired gentleman next to me said. “Is it your first time?”

  He could have put innuendo into the question, and I’d have punched him, but he seemed genuinely nice, so I let it slide.

  “It looks fun, so thought I’d try it,” I said, making myself sound ingenuous.

  “The minimum bet at this table is a thousand dollars,” the man said gently. “That’s this one.” He touched a yellow-bordered chip. “You sure you want to do this?”

  “Of course.” I plucked two chips from the carrier and stacked them in front of me.

  The man raised his silver brows and then copied me, putting down a bet of two thousand.

  The dragon slayer laid down a stack that made five thousand. I only smiled and waited for the dealer to take cards from the shoe and slide them to me on a wooden paddle. So much more elegant than having the dealer’s fingerprints all over the cards, and probably more sanitary too.

  My cards were a two and a three.

  “That’s good,” my new friend said. “In baccarat, you need to stay below or at nine. Tens and face cards are worth zero.” The dealer slid cards to him, a king and a three. “You can ask for another card, but you have to be careful. The tens place isn’t counted, so if your cards add up to, say thirteen, that only counts as three.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Really? Who made up that math?”

  The gentleman smiled. “Bored card players in the eighteenth century.”

  “Couldn’t they count back then?”

  “I think they wanted to make things more difficult.”

  Of course. Where was the fun if you won too easily?

  The dragon slayer received his cards. The dealer drew a five and a seven for the bank, which by this bizarre way of counting, equaled only two points.

  “I’ll take another,” I told the dealer, then grinned when he turned over a four. Nine points—hot damn.

  “Very good,” my new friend said. “I see I won’t be so lucky.” He had another face card, which meant he topped out at three points.

  The dealer gave the other players cards as they wished, then the game was over. A stack of chips came at me by way of a small plastic rake, and the same rake scraped away my new friend’s chips. The dragon slayer received a payout too.

  I narrowed my eyes as I watched the slayer. He sat casually, a slight slump to his broad shoulders as he stacked his chips with big fingers and placed another bet.

  The gentleman leaned to me. “You need to move your chips or they’ll be your bet on your next hand.”

  I considered, then shrugged. “Let it ride.”

  He looked worried. “Are you certain? You could lose it all.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m here to have fun.” I nodded at the dealer to let him know my bet stood.

  “Good for you.” My friend put down two thousand, which he lost at the end of the hand. He let the chips go, unperturbed.

  I lost as well. I didn’t have to—I could have slid some magic into the card shoe to give me nine points again, but I chose to stay cool. The first hand I’d won by luck alone, which was an exciting feeling. Plus, I didn’t want to dribble out too much magic in a place like this.

  Cassandra had told me about the man who owned the C hotels. He was called Christianson, and he knew all about magic. He had once employed Emmett Smith, the Ununculous—top mage in the world—to make his guests’ dark, kinky wishes come true.

  I’d think a man like Christianson would know when someone used magic to cheat in his casinos. Janet had handed Emmett Smith’s ass to him a few months ago, but another dark mage could have taken over his position.

  More cards, more bets. I shoved six thousand dollars in chips onto the felt. The dragon slayer bet five thousand.

  Cards turned over. My friend next to me relaxed a little when his points totaled eight. “Staying right here,” he told the dealer with a warm smile.

  The dragon slayer asked for another card. I forgot to, because I was too busy watching him, and lost my chips on a hand of only two points. The dragon slayer won a big stack.

  I’d felt a tingle as soon as the dealer plucked the card from the shoe and slid it to the dragon slayer.

  I didn’t have any Earth magic in me, and in my youth had never been good at detecting it, but that had been before I’d hung around with Janet and Mick. I’d become much better at sensing it now, especially since I’d moved in with Janet’s grandmother.

  Ruby Begay was a strong Earth-magic shaman, and Janet’s dad, the sweetheart Pete, had Earth magic in him as well, though more modestly. Gina Tsotsie, Pete’s fiancée, had some too, which she worked into her pretty jewelry.

  You can’t be around that much Earth magic, twenty-four seven, and not get used to its buzz. Grandmother Begay pretended she never used hers, but I knew she zapped a little into the food she cooked—I’d seen her do it. I’ll never tell, though, because her meals are wonderful.

  Now, as I sat at the elegant, old-fashioned baccarat table, I sensed the little spark and smelled the whiff of warm dust that meant Earth magic was in the air.

  Was the dragon slayer nuts? He’d be caught by the magic-savvy hotel owner and either flayed alive or taken out into the desert to be shot and left as a lesson to others. Did goons still do that in Vegas?

  The dragon slayer didn’t appear to care—he just kept on cheating, his flick of magic barely discernible.

  As the game went on, my new friend beside me won and lost, taking his money or letting it go with equal grace. No magic there. I tried to emulate him, pretending that victory or defeat meant nothing to me.

  I had my fingers on the table during one hand when the dragon slayer was dealt his third card, and I definitely felt the bite of magic snaking toward the dealer. I sent a subtle trickle of my own magic over his, and the slayer ended up with a face card, which brought his points to the grand total of four.

  He blinked and frowned, while I hid my smile of triumph.

  Another deal, and then my silver-haired friend, who was down to his final chips and a hand of two points, made a resigned gesture. “One last card, and then I retire. Do be careful, all right?”

  “Don’t go,” I said on impulse. I liked him—so few people were nice to me, and I was enjoying the novelty. “You’ll win, I’m sure.”

  He shook his head. “The cards aren’t with me tonight.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “I have a feeling your luck is about to change.”

  I sent my tendril of magic to the dealer, and the next card brought my friend’s point total to nine. The dragon slayer lost completely, and I resisted crowing with laughter.

  “See?” I said. “Your luck is changing.”

  My friend didn’t scream in joy or jump up and down like people in ads for Las Vegas do. He looked mildly pleased, gave me a smile as he pulled in his winnings, then laid down another thousand-dollar chip.

  The slayer looked up and over at us. I gave him a five-fingered wave, but his gaze didn’t settle on me—it rested on my distinguished gentleman friend.

  The man beside me exuded no magic at all, so why did the slayer stare at him so sharply? Did he assume the wicked flash of magic from my end of the table couldn’t possibly have come from the Apache woman in party clothes?

  I kept grinning at the slayer until finally he flicked his gaze to me.

  The ice in his stare froze me to the bone. There was power in this one, no mistake. I don’t know why that worried me—
I didn’t have to be afraid of Earth-magic beings. Did I?

  Smile in place, I showed him a spark in my fingers. It’s on, honey. I saw a glitter of magic in his hand, his response. Oh, yeah. It’s on.

  My view of the slayer was cut off when my new friend blocked it by bending to me.

  “A word of advice, my dear,” he said in his smooth voice. “Have nothing to do with that one. I know young women find men such as he exciting, and I’m guessing my warning will only make him more attractive, but please believe me. I’ve heard things about him, bad things. And no, you can’t reform men like that, no matter how hard you try.”

  Aw, what a sweetie. Distress showed in his brown eyes, concern that I’d throw myself away on an asshole and end up beaten, barefoot, and pregnant in a rundown shack somewhere. I’d never in a million years let that happen to me, but my friend was so kind to worry.

  I patted his arm, noting that the sleeve of his jacket was ultra-soft. “Trust me, I’m not interested in the guy, except to take vengeance on him for a friend.”

  I’m not sure he believed me. “Just be careful—he is not a good man. I have a daughter about your age, and I’d say the same to her.”

  I blinked back tears as I tightened my grip on his arm. “Can I pretend you’re my dad? Mine was a total dick. He’s dead now.”

  “I’m sorry.” He looked bewildered but sounded genuinely sympathetic, which was a new one for me. I released him and held out my hand.

  “I’m Gabrielle. I’m not usually so awful—well, okay, maybe I am. At least, my sister thinks so.”

  “I’m Cornelius.” He had a warm handshake, a firm clasp. “A strange name these days, but my family hoped it would lead to great things. Tell your sister you are not awful.”

  “Thanks.” I flushed as I let go and turned to accept more cards. I wasn’t used to pouring out my feelings, not my true ones, and now I was a bit embarrassed. Not sorry though. Cornelius, on the other hand, was unruffled, with an easiness about him.

  The hand dealt me wasn’t good, but I was learning in this game that points could change radically with the flip of a card.