“Until today, he never needed to. You did good, Pix.”
She stood there, rocking back and forth on her heels.
“You know what happens now,” I said.
“Yeah.” Her voice was soft. “This is the part where you send me home.”
I reached out and touched her arm. She stared at my hand. I put it down again.
“You promised,” I said, “that when the time came to save Coop and settle accounts, you’d leave the rough stuff to me.”
“I did. Just don’t forget what you promised me.”
I looked to the windows. Out on the waters of Lake Michigan, the sun’s reflection glittered like a chunk of fool’s gold.
“Right about now,” I said, “I imagine Stanwyck’s sitting down to eat his last meal. Hope he picked a good one.”
“I’m counting on you. For Coop.”
“We’ll make things right,” I said.
Pixie bundled her laptop under her arm and walked to the door. She looked back at me, something sad in her eyes.
“You never ‘make things right,’ Faust. The best you ever do is damage control.”
I shrugged. “Sometimes that’s the best anyone can do.”
As she walked out the door, I wondered if some part of her hated me, just a little, for sending her away. That was okay if she did, if that was the price for keeping her at arm’s length. I could have used another pair of hands for this job, and part of me—part of me I didn’t like much—said I should have given her what she wanted. Brought her all the way into my life and let her find out exactly how it felt to get bloodstains on your hands.
In the end, though, I’d rather Pixie woke up tomorrow morning hating me instead of hating herself.
* * *
I had one call to make before we left.
“Damien Ecko speaking.”
“It’s Faust,” I said. “One question: are you going to the tournament at the Bast Club today?”
“Ah, Mr. Faust, this is an unexpected pleasure. I was beginning to think I’d never hear from you again. Just as well, I’m starting to enjoy spending quality time with your friend here. I’d hate to lose him.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m bringing you the coin and the dagger, tonight. Get ready to hand Coop over.”
Ecko chuckled. “Please. You had plenty of time to lay your hands on the coin, while it was barely guarded, and you couldn’t do it. Do you honestly think you’ll steal it from a crowded room, right from under its owner’s nose?”
“My plan depends on having a crowd around.” I was lying, but it sounded good. “Here’s the thing, though: you need to stay away from the club today. If you’re here when the theft goes down, there’s a good chance you’ll be implicated. I can’t have that.”
“Such concern for my well-being.”
“Don’t get it wrong. It’s concern for mine. If Royce thinks you were involved in the theft, don’t even pretend you wouldn’t give me up to save your own skin. Helping you get away clean is my best chance of survival. Promise me you won’t come to the tournament.”
“Hmm,” Ecko said. “Very well, I wasn’t all that keen on the spectacle in the first place. Here’s a thought. Perhaps I’ll spend the day with your friend. Make no mistake, Mr. Faust, if you don’t follow through, and the dagger and the coin aren’t in my hands by sunset, he and I will most certainly be having an exciting—and very long—night.”
“Wait for my call,” I said and hung up on him.
One obstacle down. Only a few hundred to go.
When we got to the Bast Club, just shy of ten in the morning, cars already overflowed the parking lot and clogged the curb outside the building. Lots of rental cars and out-of-state plates, cars from New York and Florida, with windows tinted black as obsidian.
From the moment we’d checked out of the Four Seasons, leaving at carefully staggered intervals, our united band had become a handful of splinters. Bentley and Corman went first, fifteen minutes apart, and even they wouldn’t say a word to one another until the tournament was over. Then Margaux headed out, leaving Caitlin and me as the only couple in the crew.
“The one thing I’m worried about,” I told Caitlin as we crossed the parking lot, “is that Royce saw everyone’s faces back at the airport when you first landed. He still might put two and two together, if he’s paying attention.”
Caitlin smiled. “He’ll be a bit distracted. And if we play our parts capably, even more so.”
“True. So let’s go give him something to worry about.”
The club’s parlor was standing room only, packed with eager spectators and would-be contenders, and my head flooded with psychic chatter. The energy flowing through the room could have powered a small city, and from a quick look around, only half the crowd was identifiably human.
The rest, like Caitlin, had very good disguises on.
I caught frantic waving out of the corner of my eye. Freddie, drink in hand, reclined on one of the plush red divans. Halima sat in the chair beside her, her knees tight together and shoulders tensed.
“Freddie, Halima,” I said as we walked over. I nodded at Freddie’s glass. “Starting a little early, are we?”
“It’s a Bloody Mary,” she said, swinging her legs down from the divan and patting the now-vacant seat. “That’s breakfast food, darling. Look it up.”
As Caitlin sat next to Freddie, Halima shook her head. “I really, really don’t like crowds. This is not my thing at all.”
Freddie sipped her drink. “You just need to loosen up. Caitlin, this is my BFF, Halima. Halima, this is my new BFF, Caitlin.”
I stayed on my feet, casually glancing from side to side, giving the room a once-over and watching for familiar faces. Bentley walked by on his way to the bar. We didn’t even make eye contact.
“You can’t have two best friends,” I said, “as implied by the word best.”
“Hush, you. I can have anything I want…except for a lack of utter nausea from watching that tawdry display.”
I followed her gaze to the doorway, where Nadine—wrapped in a gown of hot-pink silk that clung to her curves like a second skin—strolled into the room. She wasn’t alone. Five men, chiseled, pretty enough to be models and dressed in black Armani suits, followed her lead. She talked animatedly as they walked, her hands constantly in motion, brushing a shoulder here, a cheek there.
“Oh, no, she isn’t,” Caitlin said, her voice hard.
“You know what she’s doing. I know you know,” Freddie said to Caitlin.
Caitlin’s left eyebrow twitched. “Madonna. The ‘Material Girl’ video, 1984.”
“She’d better not even pretend that was accidental,” Freddie said.
Halima leaned sideways in her chair, giving me a pained look.
“Do you know why they’re upset?” she whispered.
I shrugged, helpless.
“It’s…a territorial thing. I think?”
“Now, a Whitesnake video, that’s more her speed,” Caitlin muttered.
“More. Like. Motley. Crue,” Freddie replied, pronouncing each word like a judge handing down a death sentence.
I felt Royce before I saw him in the crowd, a big bundle of smug headed right for me.
“Surprised to see you here, sport,” he said, smiling bright enough to light up the room. “You must be feeling a tad frustrated this morning.”
I played dumb, like he’d expect me to. “Meaning?”
“Well, I simply heard that you were quite the busy bee yesterday. Flitting here, flitting there, but not really getting much accomplished, were you?”
“I was practicing my poker skills,” I said.
Royce moved close, standing inches away, pitching his voice soft.
“Probably would have been a better use of your time. You see, Daniel, we were onto you from the very start. It was a cute attempt, but understand this, and understand it well: the only way you’re ever getting your hands on the grand prize…is by winning it fairly.”
&
nbsp; My hand brushed my hip pocket, feeling the hard contour of the Judas Coin.
“What can I say?” I told him. “You got me.”
“Good. As long as we understand each other. Also? Sweet perdition, man, button your shirt all the way up and put a tie on. You’ve got a hickey on your neck. What are you, twelve?”
“It’s a love bite,” I said.
Caitlin gave me a thumbs-up.
Royce rolled his eyes, stepped back, and let his voice boom like a carnival barker. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome! Welcome, one and all. At this time, registrations for the tournament are being held in Parlor B, courtesy of the lovely Nadine. Seats are first-come, first-served if you haven’t already paid your buy-in, so I urge you to move with haste.”
“Oh joy,” Freddie said as she stood up, pausing to drain the last of her Bloody Mary through an oversized straw. “We get to talk to the lovely Nadine. Halima, you coming?”
“I think I’ll sit this one out,” she replied. “Don’t worry, I’ll be cheering you on when the game starts.”
A line stretched down the hall toward the open door of Parlor B. I stood on my toes and craned my neck, checking out the people ahead of us. I saw a few familiar faces—like Stanwyck, gripping a wad of cash in both hands like a chump waiting to get rolled. When he looked to one side, I caught the expression on his face: panicky as a lemming on the edge of a waterfall. By now he had to have figured out that the Bast Club wasn’t any ordinary gambling den.
And if you think you’re out of your league now, I thought, taking deep breaths to keep my anger in check, just wait until you see what I’ve got planned for you.
36.
Trevor Manderley stood beside Stanwyck, gabbing with someone else in line, not even trying to be comforting. No reason to: he’d already made his money, “sponsoring” the sucker. I didn’t pay Manderley any mind. As far as I was concerned, that score was settled, so long as he didn’t pull anything stupid today.
We eased forward in line a few feet at a time, eventually stepping though the open doorway of Parlor B. I wasn’t sure what the room was normally used for, but today Nadine held court behind a long folding table, a corkboard behind her lined with tacked-up sheets of paper. As a dark-haired woman at the head of the line handed over an envelope of cash, one of Nadine’s boy toys wrote out a name in big block letters and added it to the board where Nadine pointed.
H. WEST
A. XUN
E. TALBOT
V. FIERI
“Looks like they’re organizing the names by table placement,” Freddie said, standing right behind me and Caitlin in line. “Ooh, I hope I get seated with Amy. She’s so neurotic it’s impossible not to have a good time with her.”
Joining the tournament had been Amy’s idea. She pointed out, back at her shop, that even though she knew the grand prize had already been stolen, it would look strange if she didn’t play.
“It’s rational,” she’d observed. “Besides the coin, there’s a fifty-thousand-dollar payout for first place. Personal security plus a remote chance for a ten-to-one return on investment makes my buy-in a snap decision.”
I took her word for it.
Another one of the suited men hovered at Nadine’s shoulder, standing still as a guard at Buckingham Palace. He clutched the metal briefcase in his right hand with the handle cuffed to his wrist. With the witch-eye undisturbed, as far as Nadine and Royce knew, the coin was still safe and snug inside its case. I just hoped they didn’t try to take it out and show it off before the tournament started.
Eventually we made it to the front of the line. Nadine gave Caitlin a sneering smile.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in. Hello, Caitlin. It’s been years.”
“Nadine,” Caitlin said. “Not nearly long enough.”
“Agreed.” Nadine looked me over, arched an eyebrow, and pointed at my neck. “And…really?”
Caitlin pointed at Nadine’s dress. “Really?”
Nadine touched one hand to the bodice of her gown. “I wear it better than you ever could, commoner.”
“I am Prince Sitri’s hound. Elite of my court. A bit more prestigious a rank than certain other people here could claim.”
Nadine curled her lip. “Please. You might have screwed and backstabbed your way into an unearned title, but you were born a commoner, and you’ll always be a commoner. You’ve got dirt under your claws.”
“Hey, Nadine?” I said.
She glanced my way.
“I normally have strong objections to hitting a woman,” I said, “but if you talk to my girlfriend like that again, I could see myself getting over it real fast.”
Nadine flashed a pearly smile. “Please. Do try. I’d love to watch Caitlin’s face while my little helpers here use you as a living punching bag. I’ll tell them not to mark you up too badly.”
“Who?” I nodded at her baby-faced helper with the Sharpie and the paper slips, sitting beside her and looking more anxious by the second. “These guys? A powder puff in an Armani suit is still a powder puff.”
Nadine reached over and stroked the man’s shoulder. His expression changed from fearful to placid in a heartbeat, his eyes vacant as a cow in an open pasture.
“Oh, this is just a batch of new aspirants. They haven’t even been blooded yet. I brought them in to help Royce with security. The one who catches you cheating gets a reward.”
“Yeah? What do the others get?”
Nadine’s expression went from a bright sunny day to black storm clouds instantly. She glared at me like I’d insulted her mother.
“They get nothing,” she snapped. The man let out a faint gasp as her hand clenched his shoulder, her fingernails digging into the fabric. He stared blankly ahead while his eyes watered, jaw quivering, obviously fighting to keep from crying out. Nadine let go of him and took a deep breath. Then she smiled again, all sweetness.
“The House of Dead Roses is for winners, Daniel. We take the best of the best and make them even better. A winner, a true, born winner, has no room in his life for second place.” She looked over at Caitlin. “That’s something commoners never understand.”
“Understand this,” Caitlin said, leaning over the table. “Our buy-in has already been paid. The Court of Jade Tears acknowledges Daniel Faust as its champion in this tournament. He, and I, will be given proper respect as visiting emissaries.”
“Oh, of course, we’ll be utterly respectful. As soon as he loses in the first round and we send you both back home humiliated and penniless, I’ll be certain to give you a polite wave goodbye.” Nadine looked to the seated man. “Put him on the board. And please, do note under his name that he’s Prince Sitri’s champion. I want everyone to get a good laugh.”
I rested my hands on the table and gave Nadine the cockiest smile I could manage.
“Out of curiosity, is Royce playing?”
“Of course he is,” she said. “He’s always Prince Malphas’s champion for these events.”
“Good. Then make sure you get a chair really close to our table. I’m gonna make you watch while I kick his ass.”
We walked away, leaving Freddie to strut up and take our space at the head of the line. She slapped an envelope down on the table and loudly announced, “Fredrika Vinter, House of Vinter, champion of good taste. If you don’t know what that is, I’ll buy you a dictionary.”
Caitlin and I stepped out into the hall. I couldn’t miss the stiffness in her walk, or the thousand-yard stare.
“Well, that should do it,” I said softly. “Now Royce pretty much has to focus all his attention on me. If he wasn’t going to before, I guarantee Nadine will goad him into it.”
“Fine,” Caitlin snapped.
“Apparently it isn’t.” I stopped walking. “Hey, what’s wrong? I mean, you’re really upset.”
She pursed her lips and waved me off. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something. C’mon, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”
Caitlin leaned against the
wall. She shook her head, her eyes distant.
“Daniel, I…worked very, very hard to get where I am today. I’ve proven myself again, and again, and again. I’ve warred for my court and my prince, and I’ve honored them with my blood and my sweat. If there’s dirt under my nails, it’s because I had to claw my way up from nothing.”
“Hey, I know that. You’ve earned your job. From what I see, you keep earning it.”
“And when someone like that, who was handed everything from the moment she hatched, looks down on me because I’ve got the wrong blood in my veins…” She looked left and right, lowering her voice. “And you know that I’m Prince Sitri’s adopted daughter, a little fact that would shut Nadine’s mouth in a heartbeat, but I’m forbidden to tell anyone. ‘All in good time,’ he says. Another game of his, I assume.”
I stroked my fingers across her pale cheek.
“Well, I’ll tell you something.” I leaned close. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re already a princess.”
That got a smile. A small one, but it was a start. I took her hand.
“C’mon. Let’s show these snobs how we do things in Vegas.”
We had one more part of the plan to carry out before the tournament got underway, and not much time. Out in the club’s lounge, I hunted for three people in the crowd: Amy Xun, Bentley, and Stanwyck. Amy spotted me, stopped texting, and slipped her phone into her purse. Bentley loitered by the bar. As our eyes locked for an instant, he set down his glass of wine and gave me an almost imperceptible nod.
Then there was Stanwyck, Trevor still at his side and leading him across the lounge toward a couple of open chairs against the opposite wall. I squeezed Caitlin’s hand, let go, and prowled toward them.
“I told you,” Trevor was saying, “this is a very elite, very underground tournament.”
“Underground,” Stanwyck muttered. “Yeah, see, to me that means Outfit goombahs and not reporting your winnings to the IRS. It does not mean…whatever the hell is happening here. There was a guy back there with his teeth filed to points like a goddamn great white shark, Manderley. Shark teeth.”
A Plain-Dealing Villain Page 22
