by Nancy Gideon
She started for the door, weak with relief. All she had to do was go and say nothing. To just walk away. She wasn't responsible, after all. She'd never been more than an easily manipulated pawn.
But with one hand on the door and her escape eminent, she turned back toward him.
"They already know about you and Cross. They'll never allow the hotel to open so Cross can carry out his plans. Perhaps you should take your own advice and run. While you can."
He reacted with genuine surprise then with an odd emotion. Gratitude. Then he simply smiled in his usual bland and inscrutable manner. “Thank you for the heads up, my dear. Perhaps I will."
* * * *
Rita and Marcus stood uncomfortably watching Jeannie pace the conference room in increasing agitation and hunger. She no longer bothered to maintain the mask of humanity, and her image fluttered like bad reception on the television. Her movements quickened and blurred, running together as if controlled by a time and space different than theirs.
And the sound ... soft hissing breaths ending on a feral rumble.
"What's keeping Cross?” she growled. Her focus darted from the door to their captive. Finally, that burning stare fixed upon Marcus, and her restless travels ceased. Danger and death pulsed from her as she studied the beat at the base of his thick throat. Her gaze narrowed, glittering behind the fierce slits. Her nostrils flared and thinned as she sucked in his vital scent.
"Perhaps we won't wait,” she purred at last. Her tongue ran slowly across elongated teeth.
Then her head whipped around as her preternatural hearing picked up a sound they couldn't hear.
"The elevator,” she muttered to herself.
The frenetic energy returned, she went to a wall cabinet and opened the doors. Several monitors flickered to life, displaying different areas of the first floor hotel. Just normal activity with a few select craftsmen laying down the finishing touches and service staff running vacuums.
Until the door to the private elevator slid open and Naomi Bright slipped out.
Jeannie howled, the sound raising hairs on the necks of the other two. She pointed a now taloned finger at Rita.
"You keep him here for Cross. I'll take care of our little defector. Zanlos is a fool if he thinks I'd let her escape."
Her form faded and thinned, becoming wisps of smoke that dispersed beneath the silent breath of the ventilation fans.
For a moment, the two simply stared at the monitors.
"She's going to kill her,” Marcus stated at last, hammering that fact home like a stake to the heart. “You know that. Maybe you didn't know about Kitty and Charmaine, but you know if that monster catches up to Naomi, she intends to kill her."
"You can't stop her. You can't prevent it from happening.” Rita's tone was hallow and fatalistic.
"But I know who can.” He took a chance and gripped her arm. “You're a cop, for God's sake. This isn't how we do things."
He wasn't reaching her. Her expression was remote stone. He tried again with a ruthless appeal.
"Rita, she was your friend."
She stared at him, and he could see the dark swirls of indecision clouding her gaze. Finally, she lowered the gun. And she extended the papers that would damn Cross's scheme.
"Then get him. Save her. It may be the last good deed I'm ever able to do."
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Chapter Twenty-three
She ran.
Her only thought was to find Gabriel. Gabriel was the only one who'd stand a chance against Cross and the ghouls at the Amazon.
Because Gabriel wasn't human, either.
The sidewalks were filled with tourists spilling out of the various casinos and shops. Easily identifiable by their expensive cameras and tee shirts emblazoned with the names of their hotels in flagrant billboardesque advertising, they gawked at the sights, at the pirate ship launching in front of Treasure Island, at the graceful water ballet fountains of the Ballagio, at the erupting volcanoes and light shows and dazzling neon displays, all blissfully unaware that she was racing for her life and possibly for theirs. For whatever Cross had planned for the naive visitors to Las Vegas, she was certain they wouldn't leave well entertained.
As she continued her hurried pace, blessing her sensible shoes, she pulled out her cell phone and began punching in Gabriel's pager number. Before it had a chance to ring through, her elbow took a hard knock from an Hoosier fan wearing a John Deere cap. He obliviously jockeyed for the best shot of his family posing stiffly in front of The Mirage and the huge statue of its founders, Seigfrid and Roy, and seemed unaware of the collision. To her dismay, the phone went flying. It landed on the crowded walk with a damning crack then was puck-handled by indifferent feet until it skidded out into the street and under the crushing weight of one of the trolleys.
Uttering an uncharacteristic curse, she happened to glance up and there, on the curving paths playing about the edge of fountains with Caesar's Palace rising up behind her, stood Jeannie Baker, one time Miss Cornhusker from Nebraska, now newly made vampire.
Jeannie slowly turned her head, not scanning the crowd but rather, like the predator she was, scenting the air.
Naomi had no doubt in her mind who she was looking for.
She faded back through the throng of senior citizen tourists rushing from their bus to catch Steve and Eydie's next show. Careful not to draw attention to herself and grateful for the fact that she blended with such anonymity, Naomi crossed with other foot traffic and headed into the palatial casino at the Venetian. There, she'd find the first available phone and send out an S.O.S.
It was impossible not to glance about, seeing the players popping tokens and pumping arms, hearing the bing, bing, bing and the occasional clatter of payback, and not to imagine what the Amazon might have achieved upon its opening. A sadness sank deep into her soul at all that had been hoped for and now would never be realized. At least, by her. She wouldn't be there to reap the kudos, to experience the pride, to bask in the satisfaction of a job well done.
But, if all went well, she'd be alive. And that's what she needed to concentrate on.
That and getting the rest of the girls out of there before they fell under Cross's foul influence. It was too late for Jeannie and for Charmaine, perhaps for Rita, Marcus and Grace, too. But the others, she could save. It was her duty to try.
Sinking back into shadow next to the phone banks, she dialed Gabriel's pager number and stated a brief message.
"I'm at the Venetian. Jeannie's after me. Zanlos and Cross know everything."
She punched in the number and waited. Seconds passed. Then a minute. She jumped when the phone rang, snatching it up before the second tone.
His voice was a soothing balm of sanity.
"Wait for me at St. Mark's Square."
"Hurry."
* * * *
Grandly dressed opera singers and costumed entertainers quoted the plays of the day. Domed ceilings painted to resemble Renaissance works of art created a fantasy world Naomi wished she could enjoy. She drifted along the shop fronts, pretending to daydream about the extravagant displays of millefiori beaded necklaces, Venetian glassware, casino apparel and feathered ceramic masks. All the while, she searched out of the corners of her eyes for signs of discovery or salvation. Who would find her first? She couldn't burrow in too deeply for fear that Gabriel would pass her by, and she had to effect a rescue for those at the Amazon.
How could she think to rescue them when she couldn't even save herself?
She ducked into one of the expensive gift shops and picked out an elaborate half mask on a stick. Hiding behind the painted lion's face and lush golden plumage that resembled a mane, she stepped back into the square to continue her search through the slanted eye holes.
Not immune to the romance of the setting, Naomi was drawn to the stone balconies overlooking the marvel of the Venetian—the Grand Canal flowing through the shop area on the hotel's second floor in a basin of concrete. Gondolas toured sle
ekly along that waterway with polemen in their black- and white-striped shirts steering cuddling lovebirds and occasionally breaking into song. She watched curiously as one of the boats bumped the wall beneath her and the gondolier held up a hand. She gasped to see Gabriel's features revealed beneath a floppy hat.
"Jump down. I'll catch you."
Naomi hesitated. Suddenly, all she could see was water, black and cold, surging toward her, seeking to suck her under. She stepped back.
"I can't."
"Naomi, trust me,” he called up to her. “Trust me."
Blinking against the visions her mind thrust up as barriers, she focused on Gabriel, on the steady intensity of his gaze and the surety of the hands spread wide and extended toward her. She could barely breathe. She slipped one leg, then the other over the rail while those around her paused to watch, wondering if this was part of some pre-staged show.
Closing her eyes against the images of a dark surf racing up to engulf her, she stepped out on faith.
A brief rush of wind and the solid feel of Gabriel's hands upon her waist. Her eyes flew open then shut again as she wrapped her arms tightly about his neck. The shoppers above politely applauded and went on about their business.
He eased her down to the bottom of the boat and poled them quickly out onto the waterway. She leaned back against the spraddle of his legs and let herself relax. She was safe now.
"Marcus told me what happened. Rita let him escape. Fill me in on your meeting with Zanlos,” he asked without looking down. The tenderness in his voice conveyed his concern without further embellishments.
So she told him, sparing no details, not even those surrounding his true dark nature. He said nothing until she was finished. And then, he wasn't sure he knew where to begin. The moment was crucial. Her regard of him meant everything. If she looked up and he saw horror in her gaze, he didn't think he'd be able to go on.
Her head tipped back and turned. His stomach clenched. His breath suspended for that instant it took for her eyes to lift, for her stare to connect with his.
And in her sweet face, he saw acceptance, and he wanted to weep.
The gondola slipped past cafes, under balconies and along lush streetscapes. As they crossed through the shadow of a bridge, they were too engrossed in one another to notice that one of the scantily clad living statues followed them with a marble-cold glare. Passers-by gasped as a sleek woman in the fluid wrap of a toga hopped down from her pedestal and lithely vaulted over the side of the bridge.
The gondola scarcely rocked as Jeannie landed in the bow.
"Oh, how melodramatic,” she sneered. “A lover's rendezvous comes to tragic consequence on the pseudo-streets of Venice. I'd cry if I could shed tears of regret."
Though Naomi drew back in alarm, Gabriel issued a low, threatening growl of his own.
"Zanlos won't like it if she comes to any harm,” Gabriel warned. “And I'll like it even less. Catch the next boat."
"If three's a crowd, I'm not the one who's going to be leaving."
She lunged toward Naomi, lips curled back, fangs hideously exposed.
Without thinking, Naomi reacted.
For a moment, Jeannie's features showed complete surprise. She glanced down and seemed even more amazed to find the stick from Naomi's mask thrust into her chest. She started to laugh at the absurdity of it, of a wimp like Naomi Bright striking her down in all her glorious power. Then the laugh became a gurgle and her body thrashed wildly.
Leaning over a dazed Naomi, Gabriel shoved the rapidly decomposing Jeannie over the side of the boat. She hit the water without a splash and sank out of sight. Where she'd gone under, the surface boiled for a moment then grew still again. Only then did Gabriel pole them out from the bridge's shadow and back into the light.
Recovering from the magnitude of what she'd done, Naomi looked up with a renewed strength.
"Charmaine's girls. They won't be safe if Cross is coming after me."
"Then let's go get them."
* * * *
They drove to Naomi's house in silence. Conversation was beyond Naomi at this point.
She'd killed someone.
The shock of it pulsed through her in a jerking arrhythmia. But what frightened her more, what created more agitation than that final realization she'd seen in the other's eyes, was the fierce sense of justice even now taking seed inside her.
She'd made a stand. She'd destroyed something evil, something that would have ultimately harmed those she cared about. Pride blossomed where courage had taken root and she didn't recognize the woman who embraced that emotion.
She needed to have a discussion with Gabriel about how her perception of everything had changed. But that would have to wait. They needed to get the girls to safety. A moment of playing the hunter didn't erase the fact that they were now the hunted.
The lights blazed inside her bungalow. A strange vehicle sat out front with the motor running. Panic shifted from neutral into overdrive.
The moment Gabriel stopped in the driveway, Naomi was out the door, heedless of his call for her to wait. The front door was ajar. The first thing she saw was Charmaine's three girls sitting on her sofa. Janeece held Mel. Relief was short-lived as Rita emerged from the bedroom area. She carried a suitcase and dragged several heavy plastic trash bags behind her. She stopped to regard her roommate stoically.
"Where are you going?” was the only thing Naomi could think to say.
"Far away and as fast as possible. Marcus is taking some pretty damning stuff to the LVPD and the Feds. Unless I miss my guess, my welcome has worn out. I don't want to wait around to see who comes after me first, the cops or Cross."
Naomi didn't have to ask. Rita had let Marcus go the same way Zanlos had released her. Now they were both in danger.
"You could come with us."
Rita chuckled wryly at the offer, but her gaze softened. “Don't be silly. Cross could track you through me. I'm outta here ... as soon as I meet Marcus to make a statement."
"We can protect you,” Gabriel insisted with a quiet conviction. By we he didn't mean him and Naomi.
"Maybe. Maybe later.” She regarded Gabriel for a long moment, then said, “Zanlos wants to meet with you. He said he has a parting gift for you."
"He's leaving?” Naomi couldn't help the slight note of uneasiness in her voice. She was still linked to him no matter how faded the connection. The thought of an unspecified distance alarmed some subconscious part of her.
"If he's smart. His whole gig is coming apart. He's about to become a liability to Cross."
"The girls ... Candice, Marty, Molly, the others. We have to get them away from there.” Naomi looked from Rita to Gabriel with a somber determination, ready to walk back into the jaws of the beast herself if necessary.
"Marcus is having them picked up. They'll be placed in safe houses until this thing is finished. And he knows how to keep them safe from even the unexpected. Even from themselves."
"How can it be finished?” Naomi asked. “How do you defeat something like Cross?"
"That's my job,” Gabriel stated grimly.
"I've gotta go.” Rita dropped the garbage bags filled with her belongings and impulsively embraced Naomi. “You take care of him and yourself. It's better I not hear what you've got planned.” She leaned back and touched her fingertips to the goose egg above Naomi's ear. “Sorry about that. And about the things I said to you, Nomi. That wasn't really me talking."
Naomi covered her hand for a quick squeeze. “I know. You be careful, Rita."
"I'll be in touch ... if I can shake this thing."
When Cross was dead. That's the only way she'd be free. Naomi understood that just as she realized she'd always be part of Zanlos, his to command should he try to call her. Knowledge of her lack of control unsettled her.
"Good-bye kids,” Rita called to the girls. “Take good care of Mel for me.” Sudden moisture welled up in her eyes as she turned away then nodded once to Gabriel. “Give Rae my best and tell
her I'm sorry I wasn't more help. I guess I didn't settle my debt to her after all."
"I think you did.” He smiled briefly and stepped aside so she could hurry out. Then to Naomi and the girls he said, “Grab whatever you need. You can't stay here."
Naomi balked. “I don't want to leave my things, my house."
"We'll be coming back to them. I promise. Take just what you need."
Less than fifteen minutes later, bags were tossed into Gabriel's big trunk. With the three girls and Mel seated solemnly in the back and Naomi at shotgun, Gabriel drove away from the life Naomi realized with some sadness that she'd never be returning to. A life she had barely lived and could only partially regret leaving behind. Her future was linked to the man behind the wheel, and wherever he would take her, she would gladly go.
* * * *
They took the diagonal ride upward in the Luxor's elevator, following the slant of the outer pyramid. The girls might have been impressed, but they were too weary to express it. Gabriel held little Tonya in his arms. Hers looped trustingly over his shoulders. Janeece sagged against Naomi's side, an uncomplaining Mel crushed to her chest. Naomi wasn't sure how Gabriel had convinced the night clerk to let them bring the cat in at all, let alone without a carrier, but the big animal's kitty box and sand rode on the bellhop's cart. Roxanne remained aloof, her dark-eyed stare shifting between the two adults as if she was trying to puzzle something out.
Gabriel had paid for one of the $800 a night suites without blinking an eye. The girls mustered up enough energy to murmur over the angled wall of glass that overlooked the lights of the strip while Gabriel paid the bellman to unload their scant belongings and, more gingerly, the cat box. Roxanne herded her sisters into one of the bedrooms where they climbed up onto the big king size bed and instantly, with the innocence of the young, were asleep. Naomi got Mel situated in one of the spacious bathrooms, placed him in his clean sand so he'd be acclimated, and poured some food into a sparkling, crystal mint tray. After sniffing about with a haughty discrimination, Mel decided to accept the situation and trotted in to leap up onto the girls’ bed. He gave Gabriel a wide birth but was no longer growling.
