The Foul Mouth and the Mancy Martial Artist (The King Henry Tapes Book 5)

by Richard Raley

  EVER.

  I pulled out my phone, went through the old texts on it.

  Plenty of stuff on there still saved. Every time the Asylum was out for vacation I’d get bombarded with messages from Christmas Ward asking me questions about Geomancy, along with rather horrible advice on how to keep Val happy. Never had to keep her happy . . . she’s just always happy.

  “Planning to drunk dial Miranda Daniels again?” T-Bone asked me.

  “If you’d ever met her, then you’d know it was a grievous lapse in judgment not to be repeated.”

  “Other than the first five or ten times?”

  I thudded my forehead on the window just to feel something. “You’re enjoying my pain far too much for someone who keeps claiming they’re my friend.”

  “I’m not even enjoying it as much as Pocket is,” T-Bone complained.

  “Yeah, well . . . I don’t really trust him much, do I?”

  “I kidnapped you to Vegas,” Pocket yelled back to remind me on what a good fucking friend he really was. “Not Lexington.”

  “Was Lexington an option? I dig the hillbilly poonanny . . . as you well know.”

  “Half the Asylum well knows about it, dude.”

  “Them crabs were mutants, Pocket! Totally wasn’t my fault.”

  “Nothing’s ever your fault,” you could barely hear him mumble.

  I smirked into the window. The first massive casino went by outside, blocking out the desert skyline it was so huge.

  “I had two Daniels cousins in my Ultra class,” T-Bone drove me out of my sulking. “They hated each other. Fought like crazy. Both girls, both aeromancers, of course. Ruth and Lisa.”

  “Here it comes,” Pocket prophesized.

  I ignored him and forged ahead. “Gingers too?”

  “It’s a family trait,” T-Bone confirmed. “Lisa was bossy, firstborn’s firstborn and all that baggage the Old Mancy children inherit. She’s the person I use as a base to imagine what your Welf is like, with the way you talk about him. But Ruth was very nice. Quiet, caring. She’s a doctor now, OB/GYN. Why is it that so many of the powerful mancer families are concerned with breeding children?”

  “Here it comes,” Pocket prophesized again.

  I fulfilled it. “You fuck ‘em?”

  T-Bone sighed with the knowledge that he’d created his own problem but was now trapped in said problem’s webs.

  “You fucked a Daniels girl! Holy fuckballs!”

  “King Henry—”

  “Pocket, you believe this shit he’s hidden from me for the last couple years?”

  “Two classmates having sex at the Asylum,” Pocket deadpanned, “completely unheard of. Never happened to me . . . never happened to you more than anyone could ever understand . . .”

  “—it was one time, no one else knows about it, especially her family, you cannot use it to tease this Miranda—”

  “Why not?” I asked, affronted that I should let such juicy tidbits out of my hands.

  “—I’m a black guy and some parents still don’t approve of that, remember?”

  “You are? Hey, Pocket, did you know T-Bone is black?!?”

  “Holy crap, really?” Pocket called back.

  “I’ll have you know this is a colorblind RV, T-Bone.”

  “I hate you so much right now,” he said into his colorblind hands. “And what happened to not calling me ‘T-Bone’? You haven’t done it for months.”

  “Too much alcohol, I guess,” I decided. “And shock . . . so how ginger was she where the—”

  “I will punch you if you finish that question,” he half-heartedly threatened.

  “Fine . . . guess it was traumatic for you. Blacked it out.”

  “Wait for it,” Pocket called.

  “Blacked it out with your big black wang!” I added enthusiastically.

  “Why don’t I just keep my mouth shut?” T-Bone asked himself.

  “No one does around me,” I said into the window as another casino went by, “it’s my charm and winning personality.”

  [CLICK]

  The casino we had our rooms at and where this secret event was taking place had just opened to the public. Casino, hotel, and a stadium big enough to hold ten-thousand people, all in one.

  Even had itself a kickstand.

  Grand opening.

  Kind of place that should be packed with rich people trying to be trendy, not three guys showing up in an RV.

  Right off the bat I start getting the vibes.

  Them Asylum vibes.

  Them nice, quiet one vibes they try so hard to uphold and fail so badly at keeping up.

  First off: the casino complex was gated.

  Second off: they might be pretty gates, might be lined with fake gold, might be worked-stone worthy of a geomancer, but they were big fucking gates flanked by big fucking walls.

  Place was guarded like a prison too. Had all kinds of cameras hiding out and plenty of guards walking along the perimeter pretending to be street entertainers. People milled all around the section of wall we could see, no chance in hell at getting over them, being they were a good sixteen feet tall. That tall and even a vampire would have trouble hopping over. If I wanted to break in I wouldn’t do my usual grooves, I’d have to tunnel right through.

  “What the hell they hiding in there? Celine Dion?” I asked.

  T-Bone only smiled mysteriously. “Don’t worry; I made sure Pocket’s pass was in order before we left. I think we get ours at the front desk. They won’t let you inside the casino or hotel unless you have them.”

  “Right . . .”

  I squinted at him.

  He went back to tapping his laptop.

  Think he was playing a card game.

  Except with dragons and monsters and some asshole who kept yelling ‘Leeroy’ instead of spades and clubs.

  Hypocrite Price, mad at another person for keeping little secrets when he’s holding a dragon of his own behind his back.

  Shut up, Subconscious!

  You’re not helping!

  And you’re drunker than I am!

  At the gate, Pocket talked with some guard who was actually dressed like a guard. “You understand that if anyone in this vehicle doesn’t pass inspection that they will be removed from the premises immediately?”

  “I do.”

  “You understand that cheating or using special means outside of the game in question’s rules will result in a lifetime ban?”

  “I do.”

  “You’re clear for entry then, son, swing it around and enter through the basement level. Don’t have too much fun.”

  “We’ll try not to.”

  As the RV slowly crept beyond the wall my eyes went to the casino building itself, now easily visible. Not that the sixteen foot wall had even really blocked the whole thing, but now you could get a perfect view. Part of that was from the casino grounds themselves, since they sloped downward like a pit. Everything went inward to the main buildings, sands and dunes mixed with water features and crisscrossed with slim walkways.

  There were three buildings, as expected. The casino and hotel mirrored each other, tall spears of metal shooting into the air. It’s Vegas, so it was done on a massive scale and for these buildings each was covered in framework curved and rounded so that the windows appeared to be jutting out into the air like pulled back scales. In the framework were carefully spaced bulbs and they shimmered a pattern, working in concert to make the twin buildings undulate around in place.

  Like a tornado of shining scales.

  All illusion, nothing real about the scales or the tornado, but it was effective at making an impression that didn’t have a whole lot about being the nice, quiet one I was expecting from the walls and the guard’s attitude.

  Like all that illusion wasn’t enough, they topped it at the center of the two structures. Halfway between the buildings was a connecting piece, not a walkway but a lattice work of steel trying to be invisible as it held up a gigantic, gold-plated snake. T
he snake was in a circle perfect enough to make Pi proud and the whole thing slowly rotated in place on the opposite axis of the buildings themselves. Only this time . . . wasn’t an illusion. Was an actual giant golden snake trying but forever failing at eating its own tail.

  At the very top of the twin buildings, gold lit words blazed in the darkening world: OUROBOROS HOTEL AND CASINO.

  Behind the buildings was the stadium itself.

  I’ll leave that shit for later.

  We have enough crazy shit to deal with already.

  For one . . . I’m pretty drunk.

  Also, that lighting effect used to make the buildings eerily frantic didn’t involve LEDs. Great modern invention, nothing against them, but they’re dead light. This light was alive. This light was . . . magical. I might not be a spectromancer, but I’ve seen a few spectro-crystals in my day, enough to know them on sight.

  The Ouroboros had thousands of them working together.

  So much for first impressions.

  So much for the nice, quiet one.

  Story of my life.

  “You have got to be shitting me,” was the only comment I could make.

  T-Bone bent over beside me, staring up at the buildings as well. “When Pocket told me about it as an idea to distract you, I thought he must be lying. But I checked up on it with a few people . . . it’s real, and there it is, right in the middle of Las Vegas.”

  As we swung around the outside wall, taking the long road that led around and under the base of the buildings, I noticed that the inside was sculpted into snake scales as well. They have snake furries? What they call them? Do I really want to know the answer to that question? “This what I think it is?”

  “If you think it’s a casino for mancers and those who know about mancers . . . then . . . yes.”

  The RV drove downward on the slope, engulfed as the Ouroboros buildings loomed ahead, though our road led only to a dark tunnel. Supernatural casino, of course there’s a part that’s underground. There’s always a part that’s underground. “Why haven’t I heard about this?”

  “I just said I hadn’t heard about it either until Pocket told me—”

  “You’re you and I’m me,” I said like that explained everything. Not that being King Henry Price is necessarily what you’d call good, but it does have its perks. This perk being that I usually knew all the shit that threatened to melt your face off if you thought about it too much.

  Suddenly, I didn’t feel very drunk. Feeling way too fucking sober. Wanted to go back to blackout. Wanted to go back to blissful nothingness. But I wanted to do it about something other than Val.

  This was progress.

  Val . . .

  Val knew and she didn’t say anything about it. Kind of hurt a little. I mean . . . hard to call it a lie. And even though we told each other the big stuff, we still just neglected to fill each other in on everything about our lives. But she would have told me about this, unless . . . “Learning Council put a gag order on everyone about it?”

  T-Bone nodded. “That’s my hypothesis on the whole matter. Not just a ‘don’t mention it’ but a ‘if you mention it and work for the school in any way you will be fired for mentioning it’ penalty. The ban is also why they’re no doubt having this event: to try to spread the word through the supernatural community.”

  “Supernatural community,” I muttered.

  Not just mancers.

  “You said no Vamps.”

  “It’s Vegas,” he pointed out, mostly referencing how warm the climate was even in winter, “I doubt there will be many of them, if any at all.”

  “Only takes one . . .” I whispered.

  T-Bone got a wan smile on his face. “I suppose having you brooding about Annie B is preferable to you brooding about Valentine.”

  Velvet eyes wide in horror as she was eaten piece by piece, the knife resisting my attempts to pull it out. I had that same vampire-eating, indestructible glass dagger inside my geomancer coat right at that moment. Leave the World-Breaker, bring the cannoli, I couldn’t help but think over how absurd my artifact loadout was becoming.

  Down we went into the tunnel and on either side the same snake scale motif kept pace. Better than entering its gullet, I suppose. The RV slowed, barely enough room above us. I was surprised we fit. That would be a sight at the grand opening. Sorry we stuffed our RV up your snake anus, man!

  The tunnel led to a parking garage, same as most normal parking garages, only with some guards packing pistols that guided Pocket to his designated space instead of a rent-a-cop with a lighted baton. The guards reminded me of the Auction of Illicit Wonders, only higher class. Better dressed, better looking, less scared in the face of the unknown threat. Didn’t have the ‘total-fuck-up’ feel that suffused everyone surrounding Hector Vega.

  Before I killed him.

  And before Annie B killed the shit out of all his guards.

  The RV stopped.

  We had arrived.

  Ouroboros Hotel and Casino.

  A playground for mancers and . . . others.

  “If the Learning Council ain’t cool with this and the Vamps ain’t involved, then who runs this place?” I asked with a very bad feeling about the answer.

  T-Bone’s frown did not assuage this feeling. “Um . . .”

  “You fucking dumbass.”

  Realization slowly spread across his face on the Number One answer to our survey of who would build a supernatural casino in the middle of Vegas. Here’s a hint: four letters are the same. They ain’t even mixed up.

  V.

  E.

  G.

  A.

  “Maybe Pocket knows . . . I mean . . . there’s no way, right? I mean . . .” T-Bone stopped his rambling.

  “Pocket better,” was all I said.

  Not enough alcohol in the RV for this shit, much less what’s currently inside of my bloodstream.

  [CLICK]

  A bellhop already came and grabbed up our luggage before we could even walk away from the RV.

  Pocket grinned at the guy and passed over a twenty. “Same as last time?”

  The guy was relieved. “I don’t have to go over the procedures then?”

  “Already heard them loud and clear. Don’t worry; I can lead these two through it. Just hang out until they ring you,” Pocket told him, “it’s all cool, dude.”

  A guard followed behind us as we headed through the parking lot.

  Pocket seemed to know our destination.

  Though I’m sure the guard would shoot us if we tried going anywhere beside said destination that Pocket seemed to know.

  Shitload of cars for a place that wasn’t supposed to be talked about by You Get Fired if You Do decree of the Learning Council. Ain’t that always the way it works? Well . . . not always. Only at the beginning, only for the living. Not after they’re all dead and it’s nothing but a story for the history books.

  Then you can lie.

  Then you can remake what happened the way you wished it had really gone.

  Fifty years from now if things go wrong the Learning Council can pretend this Ouroboros Casino never existed. And if it works out? They’ll just claim credit.

  The powerful stay in power by hedging bets.

  Usually I wouldn’t like that.

  Take a piss or get off the fucking pot.

  Quit sitting there with your tip in the water.

  The Learning Council pees sitting down.

  Don’t judge it.

  Yet looking at the situation, being in the situation . . . I felt myself agreeing with the Learning Council for once. Mancer casino. Risky as hell. Don’t care how many people you got scrubbing YouTube, big building like that lit up with spectro-crystals would draw some speculation. And what happens when Kim Kardashian or whoever the fuck else shows up at the front door wanting inside cuz they’re famous?

  Could be a mess.

  Could be awesome.

  If I just knew more about it . . .

  T-Bone nodde
d my way after we passed our second lamborghini in fifty feet. “He figured it out finally.”

  Pocket grinned my way, his excitement almost catching. “Hoped you’d be drunk enough that you wouldn’t realize until we got all the way inside. Wait until you see it!”

  “Should’ve stocked more than beer,” I grumbled over the situation. “Pocket . . . please tell me you know who owns this place?”

  “Um . . . not sure.” His sudden frown also did not assuage my growing concern. “I think it’s a mix of just about everyone. Only guy I’ve met personally is the one who’s responsible for the event. Not supposed to talk about anything but general terms until we’re all the way inside. One of the rules.”

  I glanced back at our guard tail. Tough guy, but he didn’t walk with that extra boost of confidence that powerful Weres have. “Lot of . . . types around?”

  “Yeah, but . . . not a lot of people from LA. Wouldn’t lead you into a trap, would I? You need to relax. It’s all cool. Jesus is here, going to be competing. Few others from school too, maybe. Jason’s on the card, know that. Haven’t seen him yet though. Might be training somewhere.”

  This wasn’t helping.

  Why did I stop with so much Jack Daniels still in the bottle?

  We went through another security section.

  One of the guards there told us that we’d have to give identification in the next room and that if we were refused entry we would be removed without hesitation. “Only those on the list are allowed inside the Ouroboros, gentlemen. It is not a public establishment—” Blah, blah, fucking lawyer speak.

  Inside we went . . .

  Ouroboros.

  Snakes.

  Why’d it have to be snakes?

  Session 50

  We all headed over to the graduate classrooms together.