by Debra Dunbar
Wyatt dozed back off, and I was entertained by his musical selections. The collection he’d chosen was eclectic. A few stereotypical Rob Zombie songs, but the rest were a pleasant surprise. Within an hour, I’d become a fan of Prodigy, Eminem, and some band named Sick Puppies.
We were past Aberdeen and fairly close to the section where Maryland, Delaware, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey all meet in a rush of inlets and waterways when I pulled over and woke Wyatt up for a pit stop.
“We’re almost to the Delaware border. We’ve got another hour and a half or so until we get there, so I thought we’d grab some coffee.”
Wyatt nodded, looking at the map on his cell phone. He’d printed out the directions he wanted me to take before we’d left the house, and for once, I didn’t disagree. We’d cross the Memorial Bridge and drive a bit on the New Jersey Turnpike, which I detested, then veer off onto some lesser traveled roads into Atlantic City.
“I think there’s a ferry from Cape May into Delaware,” he said with interest. “On the way back, let’s do the ferry and the scenic route along the ocean. We can cross the Bay Bridge in Maryland. Of course, that all depends on if the vampires are running us out of the state on a rail, or if your demon buddy is after you with a blow torch.”
Wyatt and I had strategized for days on what we’d possibly face during and after this trip. It would be good to have another set of eyes checking on the vampire motives and looking out for other demons. Plus, he needed to be aware of the situation so he could avoid getting killed if things got really violent.
Wyatt looked around the rest area with its selection of fast food stands. “Do you think they’re following us? Are there any here?”
“Haagenti’s crew wouldn’t bother,” I told him. “They’ll be at the casino to make sure I show up and have the meeting, but they’re not going to waste time following me around on my way there. I’m hoping to have a couple of days for Haagenti to see if I’m going to deliver the artifact to him, then all hell is going to rain down on my head.”
“Somehow, I don’t think you’re going to get a few days,” Wyatt commented grimly. “I’m thinking they’re going to jump the gun and grab you right in the hotel, maybe even before your meeting.”
It was a possibility, but I expected that Haagenti would want to wait to see if I actually came up with the sword. And he was probably paying these guys well enough that they’d hold back, no matter how tempting a smackdown on me might be.
“It’s the vampires I’m more worried about right now,” I said. “I’m not sure what kind of reception I’m going to get. I get the impression they are the sneaky cloak-and-dagger kind. So they may be very nice and polite to my face and try to stick a poisoned dart in my back, just to make sure I don’t run around screwing up their businesses.”
Wyatt made a face. “I wish we knew more about them. I have no idea if I’m supposed to be packing holy water, crucifixes, or a jar of minced garlic. I brought my DE, although it might just piss them off. Not like it did a whole lot of good against your angel friend.”
“I think vampires might be more susceptible to a .50-caliber bullet to the head than an angel. At least it should slow them down enough for you to run for it. I’d advise heading for a populated area. They seem to prefer to keep things low profile. And always trust your instincts. Sometimes the stupidest shit is the shit that saves your life.”
I saw over a dozen casino resorts in the town as we pulled in, and I wondered how profitable they were. Atlantic City is cool and all, but it’s no Las Vegas. It had that tired look, like a famous hooker past her prime. Fine in soft lighting, rather disturbing in the harsh glare of daylight. Right off the main strip, the city faded into a ghetto of boarded up stores, pawnshops, and convenience marts. Thankfully, most patrons didn’t seem to be out during the unflinching noon hours. Aside from the business crowd and locals, visitors remained sheltered in the comforting embrace of the casinos.
Our resort was one of the newer ones, just down the street from the Trump resort. I was tempted to pop over there and see if I could luck out and have a Donald sighting. There wasn’t a demon alive that wouldn’t give their six arms to Own Donald Trump. No one had been so coveted since Elvis. The guy was rumored to have spent a fortune on protection. So far no demon had been able to grab him, but I would hate to find out he was here in Atlantic City the same time as I was and I didn’t make an attempt.
The man at the check-in desk was human and very polite. He pulled my name up on his screen and muttered something under his breath as he glanced rapidly from the screen to me and back again. Frantically he looked around the reception area, presumably for an actual vampire to take over.
“Just a moment, Baal,” he sputtered. “We didn’t expect you this early, and had wanted to greet you in a more ostentatious fashion.”
“I’m pooped.” I yawned. “Let’s skip the ostentation for now. I drove the whole way up here, while my companion slept.” I shot Wyatt a teasing frown. “He was no help, no entertainment whatsoever. And he snores. Right now I just want to raid the mini bar and see if I can find Donald Trump.”
“He’s not in town,” the desk clerk interjected. I got the feeling he repeated this phrase a lot. I wondered how many demons availed themselves of this casino’s hospitality in the hopes of snagging The Donald? No wonder they were annoyed.
“Ah well. Just give us our keys and we’ll go entertain ourselves.” I put my hand out.
“But, the Casino Manager, she really wanted to welcome you. And you have a meeting scheduled, and some proposed activities to review.” He looked around frantically again. I reached over the counter and snatched the key cards from his hand.
“Your Casino Manager can catch up with me later. Honestly, it’s not a big deal. You really don’t want me waiting around here in your lobby. I might get bored. You wouldn’t like me when I’m bored.”
That seemed to alarm him even further. After practically shoving a terrified bellhop down our throats, he scurried off, no doubt in search of the Casino Manager.
The bellhop was human, too. He kept shooting nervous glances at me and sympathetic ones at Wyatt. I’m sure he was imagining a horrible, bloody fate for him. Wyatt grinned up at the elevator numbers and pinched my ass. I heard the bellhop gasp in alarm.
The elevator opened onto our floor and Wyatt continued to fondle my butt as I lead the way out. “Refreshed from your nap, I take it? Forget looking for The Donald; let’s order room service and fuck for a couple of hours.”
“I’ve got to check in for my tournament,” Wyatt said as I unlocked the room. “I can probably spare an hour or two though.”
I tipped the red-faced bellhop. “You can just forget about that tournament tonight because I’m planning to tear you up. By the time I finish with you, you won’t be able to walk. Take a nap while I’m driving, will you? I’m going to shove one of those mini-bar wines up your ass for that one.”
The poor guy raced through the door. Wyatt and I dissolved in laughter.
“You do realize that they are all appalled at my lack of worshipful respect toward you?” Wyatt laughed. “I guess I’m supposed to be shackled, crawling behind you on all fours, licking your feet and speaking only when spoken to?”
“Oh wow. We totally have to do that sometime Wyatt!” I was serious. “Then you can shackle me and I’ll pretend to be your pet demon. You’ll be the mighty sorcerer who has me in a sacred circle and is making me do all kinds of kinky things to pleasure him. Oh wow.”
That little mischievous gleam flashed in Wyatt’s eyes. “I’ll definitely put that one on my to-do list. Let me run down to the registration table and get all that out of the way. It shouldn’t take more than an hour. I’ll text you when I’m done and we’ll have the whole evening free to shackle each other and empty the mini bar.”
Wyatt headed down to do his thing and I unpacked my small bag and explored the room. It was a nice suite, high up in the resort, and overlooking the ocean from a spacious balcony. The
bed was a dark, four-poster with a deep red brocade bedspread and throw pillows. Matching pillows were scattered artfully on the couch and chairs. An elegant desk and modern office chair sat off to the side of the sitting area with a full range of internet hookups. A massive flat-screen TV dominated the far wall, and I was happy to see the remote was not chained to it. Surround sound speakers were strategically placed throughout the room. Wyatt would definitely approve of the electronics options.
The bathroom was a work of art. Double sinks against a wall of mirrors were illuminated by recessed lights. A huge spa tub in beige and gold marble flanked an enormous glass walled shower with double heads and cushioned marble bench seats. The most amazing part about the whole bathroom was the televisions. A small flat-screen TV was mounted between the sinks against the mirrored wall. Another was in the little closet that held the toilet. A third was on the wall facing the tub, and a fourth actually inside the shower enclosure. I examined it closely, amazed that it could function with all the water and steam of the shower. Each set was numbered, and the two remotes showed the TV numbers on them so you could have a different show on each set and control them with the one remote. Even though I’d showered this morning, I took another one just to experience the joy of lathering up while watching Rachel Ray drizzle sweet potato fries with balsamic vinegar.
I was just starting to get bored when a human knocked on my door with a bottle of wine. He wasn’t dressed like one of the hotel employees, but I let him in anyway. I’m not a huge fan of wine, but it’s impossible for me to turn down a gift of any kind. He glanced briefly around the room and handed me the bottle, showcasing the pretty label of gold swirls on a cream background. I recognized it right away. It was elf wine.
My mind raced. Elves don’t cross the gates, and even though I’d pissed off a few of the high lords, I doubted they were angry enough to send someone over here to take me out. And they probably wouldn’t be presenting me with gifts before they killed me. This human didn’t appear to be a sorcerer, just one of their messengers. I wondered briefly if this was about the incident with Candy and the trap.
“Baal,” the messenger said. “Lord Taullian would like to respectfully request your services in a matter of personal importance to him. He has heard of your recent troubles and can offer assistance as an added incentive.”
Taullian? That wasn’t the guy I helped with the sorcerer. At least I didn’t think so. There were so many of them; they were all lords, too. I looked at the human in confusion, hoping he’d help me out here.
“The Western Red Forest? By Maugan Swamp?” the messenger prompted helpfully.
That was where I’d grown up. I’d spent my childhood playing in that forest. The elf children would shoot at us with their arrows, tease us, and try to drive us from the woods. We’d reciprocate, but they were so fast, and we’d been warned not to kill them. Fond memories.
“I’m honored his Lordship would consider me, but I’m rather occupied right now.” I tried to convey an appropriate amount of regret.
“This isn’t a matter that requires your immediate attention,” he assured me. “Once you have a free moment in your schedule, Lord Taullian would greatly appreciate it if you would attend him and hear his request. And, of course, if your current situation becomes problematic, please don’t hesitate to ask his assistance.”
That was a strange offer. Usually the elves didn’t interfere with demon matters. And they certainly didn’t offer assistance without a signed contract. This was definitely something to keep in my back pocket. If things got too hot with Haagenti, it was nice to know I had options.
“It could be months,” I warned. “I don’t know how this whole thing is going to work out. It might be a while before I have any free time.”
“Lord Taullian understands, Baal. If we don’t hear from you in a few months, we will respectfully remind you of our request.” He bowed and let himself out.
That sounded menacing, but it wasn’t. It was actually very prudent to schedule a reminder like this. Demons often forgot commitments, and I was very interested in what this guy had in mind.
Wyatt called to tell me he’d been longer than he thought down in registration. There was a briefing he had to attend, then a social networking event. He’d also been roped into a dinner that night. I was bummed that I couldn’t spend time with him as planned, but he had his own life and hobbies. It wasn’t often he got to hang out with a group of gamers from all over the country, and it was understandable that he’d want to make the most of the event. I told him to be careful, to shoot first and ask questions later, and then headed down to see what I could find to entertain myself.
As I soon discovered, there were four restaurants and a host of high-end shops in the resort, all surrounding the flashy din of the casino. Signs everywhere welcomed the gamers, and also advertised a comedy act that was enthusiastically billed as the best outside of Vegas. The whole thing seemed flat, kind of forced, like no one’s heart was really in it. Everything was very well organized, carefully displayed, and meticulously run in a terribly soulless manner. I played around with a couple of the slot machines and then headed to the bar.
The bartender, wearing a name tag proclaiming him to be “Scott,” was the first non-human I’d met so far in the place, although from the look of him and absolute absence of any kind of energy, he had to have been a fairly recent turn. He wasn’t what you’d expect a vampire to look like. He was overweight, with eyes like a basset hound and a big round nose. I wondered if vampires got better looking with age. This guy certainly was proof that they didn’t select their candidates primarily on looks. He glanced up at me as I sat down and smiled a welcome with his mouth. His eyes looked right through me, as if I weren’t even there, as if I didn’t matter one bit, didn’t register at all on his scale of importance. I could have been a gnat.
“What can I get you?” His voice friendly, his eyes looking right through me.
It was weird. The vampires had always been cloying, obsequious, and polite. He wasn’t disrespectful, there was just something empty in his attitude. It was as if he were on auto-pilot.
“Bud Light,” I told him. I just wasn’t in the mood for vodka right now. “How long have you been here, Scott?”
“Couple of months,” he said in that cheerful, empty voice. “Moved here from New York. Are you in town for the gaming tournament?”
I picked up the beer he’d placed in front of me and took a swig. Samantha Martin was a nondescript middle-aged female. Not the usual competitive gamer. Maybe he thought I was here chaperoning my geeky teenager?
“My boyfriend is. I’ve got a brief meeting, but I’m mainly just trying to enjoy myself.” I smiled at him. “What do you do for fun around here?” I wondered if there were vampire-only clubs and parties, if they went grocery shopping and watched Pay-Per-View like the rest of the world.
“Well, the beach is pretty deserted this time of year, but it’s still nice to walk along the boardwalk and check out the shops. You can pretty much find any kind of entertainment, live music, comedy shows, acrobatics, and theatrical presentations. Lots of dance clubs. And, of course, everyone enjoys the gambling. Is there a particular game you play? Blackjack? Poker?” He was so friendly and chatty. Was I the only one who noticed how off it all seemed?
I handed him my room key to charge the beer and took a plunge.
“How long have you been a vampire, Scott?” I asked.
He looked at me quizzically. I almost believed him.
“Wow, maybe I shouldn’t have given you that beer. You’re sounding like you’ve had quite enough already.” He laughed in a genial manner. “I’ve never had anyone mistake me for Dracula before.” He gestured at his round belly. “Not exactly the tall-dark-handsome-with-a-cape type.”
He swiped my card and froze, what little color he had draining out of him in a dramatic sweep. He actually had to steady himself with a hand on the electronic register as he stared at the screen.
“Baal. I … I
… I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you, what you are. I meant no disrespect. I’m so sorry.” He shook slightly and stared at the spot just below my eyes. Poor guy was terrified. What were they teaching these vampires about us?
“Dude, it’s okay” I reassured him in what I hoped was a friendly manner. “Seriously. I’ve been living as a human for over forty years and hardly anyone recognizes me. I’d have been insulted if you did know what I was at a glance. We’re good. Really.”
He looked up at me, curiosity getting the better of him.
“Forty years? Honestly? I see your kind in here a lot, but I don’t think they stay longer than a couple of days.”
“I had to really control myself, to hold back a lot to remain undetected,” I told him. “I’m proud to say I had an angel within twenty feet of me once and he didn’t even recognize me. So don’t feel bad. Even the vampires down in Baltimore didn’t know, and I’ve been practically camped out on their doorstep. Your boss can hardly fault you.”
He grimaced. “Oh yes she can. Actions are what matters. Results, intentions, circumstances are all of little importance.”
He recited this like it was something he’d memorized from a vampire training manual. I wasn’t sure if he was too young to have perfected the polite distance that all of the other vampires had with me, or if the shock of finding out I was a demon had blown his composure clean away. Either way, I planned on taking advantage of his chattiness.
“I’ve heard ‘the end justifies the means,’ but this whole ‘means above all’ doesn’t seem very productive. How the hell do you guys get anything done?”
He hesitated for a moment, glancing around. “The code of behavior has loopholes, but only the very old are skilled enough to take advantage of them. It’s better for the rest of us to follow the letter of the law.”
