by Tricia Owens
"The reason he says that, guys, is because three years later, Vagasso would murder my parents, and I believe it was with the blessing, if not outright command, of the Oddsmakers."
Melanie murmured unhappily. Even the normally unflappable Celestina looked stunned. It was a lot to soak in, I understood that. But I didn't need my friends to accept it all, just be aware of it.
"The Oddsmakers have already mentioned a couple of times that they want me for a mission. For some reason they're convinced they need someone who's descended from dragons. That means they trust me so far. I'll play that role just until I can get access to Vagasso. Then all bets are off. When that happens, you may need to scatter for a while."
"I'll do my best to protect you," Xaran chipped in. One corner of his mouth tipped up. "Looks are deceiving. I'm not only a gargoyle, I'm one with considerable influence."
"He's the heir to the Gargoyle Throne," I told my friends.
"And yet the Oddsmakers ordered Anne's mother to kill you. Doesn't sound like you have that much influence," Celestina pointed out archly. "Why do they want you dead, anyway? Why not Vale, too?"
"They want me dead because I've been active and vocal about overthrowing all demon rule, no matter where it occurs. My throne is one such place. Las Vegas is another."
This was news to me. "What are you saying, that the Oddsmakers are demons?"
"They're dark entities just as Vagasso is a dark entity. Are they actual demons? No one knows. No one has yet identified their powers or tested how far their reach is. I don't care about either of those things." Xaran brushed imaginary lint off one shoulder. "If there's a possibility they're demonic, I'll take them down. End of story."
"But what about your throne?" Melanie asked meekly. "Why haven't you already gotten rid of the demon who's sitting on it?"
He advanced on her, making her let out an 'eep!' and back away. Apparently realizing his effect on her, he held up both hands. "Sorry, little monkey. I wasn't trying to—" He frowned. "The demon imposter who sits on my family's throne sits there for the time being because it's only a puppet. It is commanded by someone else. Someone I am trying to get my hands on."
"Vagasso," I said, snapping my fingers. "That's why you're interested in Vegas."
"Taking him and the Oddsmakers down will help the entire city, not just our family," Vale protested.
I held up my hand. "I'm not accusing you of anything. I get it. I'd go wherever it took me, too, if I were in your shoes. It's just another reason for me to do this."
"This is speculation, though," Celestina warned. I was grateful that I could always count on her to play Devil's advocate when needed. "The Oddsmakers could be dark entities, sure. Or they could be antisocial sorcerers. Don't base this decision on assumptions, Anne."
"You're right. I wouldn't hunt them purely on the rumor that they might be dark. What I will hunt them for is their actions. I refuse to sit by while they level punishment on another magickal being in Vegas without a proper trial. I never signed up for a tyranny. None of us did."
"And why they not kill Vale?" Lev asked. He had sort of hunched up his shoulders, reminiscent of a wolf whose hackles had risen.
"I'm a problem for them," Vale replied. "They're aware that I'm with Anne, and they can't afford to alienate her. They want her. They need her."
"For what?" Melanie asked, grimacing as if she feared the answer.
"The mission," I said. I shrugged when my friends look at me questioningly. "I don't know either. Doesn't matter. For now, they think I'm some dumb loser at their beck and call. That buys me time to go after Vagasso. We need to break them apart, and he'll be the easier target."
"Anne, what about, you know, going full dragon?" Melanie nearly whispered the question. "Aren't you still afraid of that?"
To my surprise, I realized that that fear had not entered my mind at all once I'd learned of my mother's actions.
"No," I told Melanie, "I'm not afraid of that. If my mom didn't succumb to her dragon, I won't either."
"Good," Celestina huffed. I sent her a quick smile.
The room fell into silence. I was happy to give my friends all the time they needed to decide how much distance they wanted to put between me and them. Learning your friend might be the reason you were killed wasn't something you swallowed easily.
Finally, a small voice said, "What if we all just moved to L.A.?"
I slung an arm around Melanie's shoulders. "You can do that. We all could. Maybe you should, at least for a few weeks. That'd make me feel good that you're safe. But I can't go with you. Moonlight belongs to my family. The Oddsmakers took that family away from me. I'm staying, no matter what happens."
Celestina shared a look with Lev. He nodded tightly. "Wolf-boy says we're staying. I say if the Oddsmakers ruin Las Vegas, what's to stop them from expanding their reach to other cities? Running won't solve anything. You're right, Anne: they can't be allowed to continue what they're doing. If there's a way to help you, Lev and I are available."
"This could get you killed," I warned them sternly.
"So could driving to the post office. This makes for a better epitaph."
I wasn't surprised that Celestina and Lev weren't running away—she had a business that was doing well—but I was surprised by the offer of assistance. That took some guts.
Melanie curled her arm around my waist and sighed loudly. "It wouldn't be any fun driving the Todos Tortas truck in L.A. I've heard the traffic is horrible. I'm staying!"
"But you'll stay out of it," I insisted.
She shrugged with a mischievous grin. "Monkey see, monkey do. If you fight, I fight!"
"And if I die?"
She didn't back down. "We'll go down fighting together."
I nodded with reluctance. My throat had tightened up painfully.
"Since you can't be seen speaking with the shifters of Fremont, I'll go in your stead," Xaran said, thankfully taking up the slack. "It would be unwise to let any of them know that you're working with us. Information like that would fetch a high price from the Oddsmakers. So for now, I'll be the liaison between you and that faction."
"Call it the Rebellion," I said, after clearing my throat. "Make this all Star Wars so I'll have a theme song to hum while I'm fighting our evil overlords."
My friends gave me a pity laugh, mostly to break the tension. We'd all just agreed to possibly die fighting dark spirits that might or might not be demons from Hell. It was a heavy thing.
"We'll find ways to keep everyone updated as we go along," Vale said. "For now, everyone should get some sleep. Maybe you'll feel differently in the morning. There'll be no shame in that. We only wanted you to be aware of the danger, and give you the heads up to avoid it."
"I won't change my mind." Melanie gave my waist a squeeze.
"We no change either," Lev grunted, puffing out his chest. Celestina patted him approvingly on the shoulder.
"Then let's break this up," Vale said. "Moody and I need to discuss some things."
My friends filed out into the main gallery while Xaran lingered behind with Vale and me.
"We're going to succeed this time," he told us confidently. "Before, it was only your mother, with help from your father. I don't count the shifters because one of them likely squealed on her. Your friends will be useful."
"We're not using them." I gave him a good heaping of glare. "They're helping us. Big difference."
He waved off my nitpicking. "In the end, it will be the same. All that matters is that we win."
Win. Was that the correct word for what we were aiming for? A win? That sounded too inconsequential, like we were gearing up for a basketball game against a particularly vicious opponent. This was so much more than that. Freedom was what we were fighting for, and I didn't care if using that term made me sound corny. Freedom from bullies was enough to motivate me to do nearly anything.
"I'll come find you once I've spoken with the shifters—make that, the Rebellion—tomorrow tonight." Xaran smirked at th
e use of the name. "Until then, lay low, if that's possible."
I could hear Vale grinding his teeth before he spoke. "We'll be fine. Go do what you need to do."
It was clear that he couldn't be rid of his brother fast enough. I shared the feeling. Xaran was using me, even if our needs were aligned for the time being. It was a relief when it was finally just the two of us in that dark room with the spotlighted painting of a memory of revolution.
"Definitely need a theme song for this," I stated.
Vale brushed a lock of hair away from my cheek. "We need to go back to your place. I have a date with a rebel leader that I need to complete before sunrise."
"Consummate," I murmured, holding his gaze. "I think that's the word you're after."
His eyes blazed. "You're not wrong."
We bid Echinacious farewell for the time being. I had zero doubts that the goblin was trustworthy. He had a spark in him that made me think he'd fought his own battles back in the day. A defiant goblin after my own heart.
At Moonlight, I set the wards and locked all the doors. We were vulnerable now, our actions potentially spied upon by the Oddsmakers, our intentions at risk of discovery. But I think in part that very danger goaded us to push the limits, to risk defiance in plain sight.
I didn't think Vale was in the mood for talking anymore about our plans, however. He pushed me gently but firmly toward my bed.
"Remove my shirt," he whispered.
The lights were off, but the backyard illumination gave me enough to see him by, enough to see the desire heating his gaze and the tension in his muscles as I peeled off his shirt. Vale allowed me to run the show most of the time, either consciously or subconsciously submitting to my need to feel that my choices and decisions were my own. But when it was just the two of us, bare skin to bare skin, there was no questioning his masculinity and power. I gasped when he wordlessly pressed me against the nearest wall with his body. He was heat and strength against me. He was protection and love, holding me tight.
"Whatever happens," he whispered against my ear, "you will always be the most magnificent creature I have ever known. Your heart is larger than a dragon's. Your spirit is more beautiful than an angel's."
I sank into the words, falling gladly under his spell. "I wouldn't be able to do any of this without you."
His lips curved as he kissed down the side of my throat. "Yes, you would, Moody. You don't need me. You don't need anyone. But you choose me, and that means everything to me."
He laced our fingers together and brought our hands up above my head. Sealed tight against me, he fit me perfectly. When he pressed my hands to the wall in an unspoken command to keep them there I obeyed. He slid my clothes off as though they were doubts that had no business being between us.
We writhed against the wall, my body climbing his. He gasped against my mouth, "I have no more secrets." His muscles bunched as he joined us. "Anything you want from me...it's yours, Moody."
I don't need your sacrifice, I thought in a piercing moment of clarity. I don't need you to risk your life for me. Yet as soon as I thought this, I understood that Vale needed to do these things for me. His kisses bled with his guilt for not preventing my parents' deaths. His breath, mingling with mine, was harsh with regret for keeping his motives hidden from me for so long. Vale wanted the Oddsmakers and Vagasso gone because they were terrible beings, but he also wanted penance.
He didn't need it from me.
I clutched his hair. I tightened my legs around his hips. I surged forward, possessive and greedy, and bit his collarbone. "I want you to do this to me, exactly like this, a decade from now," I panted against his skin. "So don't you dare let me down, do you hear me? Don't you dare."
He growled and pressed me hard into the wall, his passion getting the best of him. I let him take me, reveling in it, knowing that surrender to him was no loss at all.
In the morning, I woke up in bed lying beside a stone gargoyle. Tenderly, I traced a fearsome fang with my fingertip. Vale was never more beautiful than when he offered himself to me like this. It was a degree of trust no one had ever given to me before, and I cherished it.
Protectiveness caused me to clutch the statue tight to my breast. Setting it on the shelf behind me in Moonlight no longer felt safe enough. I needed a hidey hole, somewhere the Oddsmakers or Vagasso could never find it.
As I was considering all the options, the world flipped upside down. I shouted breathlessly as a monster roared.
"Hello, Anne Moody. We'd like to talk to you."
Chapter 10
I didn't feel like opening Moonlight for business. Why go through the motions for something that felt sickeningly inconsequential in the grand scope of my life?
But I dutifully opened up for business. I was a shopkeeper eighty percent of the time. So that was what I did. I kept shop.
As desperate gamblers negotiated with me for more cash, and as curious tourists scratched their heads or giggled over the items on the shelves, my mind raced in place. The hours passed. I took in a set of four hubcaps for pawn and bought a pair of glasses that could magickally see through metal. I sold the ancient Casio keyboard as well as a keychain that could magickally, temporarily, turn your car's exterior red.
Nothing exciting. Nothing unexpected. I zoned in and out, trying to make sense of the joke that my life had become. It wasn't easy.
No, it was impossible.
The Oddsmakers had snatched me from my bed that morning. Nothing in my life had been more difficult than standing in their house of horrors and keeping my face blank and my rage still. Melanie hadn't been present. The little canary hadn't been present. It had been me all alone with no one to fear hurting. The urge to blast everything to hell had made me dizzy and sick.
Maybe I could have succeeded. Maybe going full dragon and full gonzo would have ended the Oddsmakers' reign then and there.
Then again, maybe it wouldn't have. Xaran's admonition that no one truly knew how powerful the Oddsmakers were had ran through my head tauntingly. It was that niggling fear that victory might require more than me and my dragon which had stayed my hand. It had kept me nodding my head and clenching my jaw so tightly my head had bellowed with pain.
I was obedient. I played dumb. Afterwards, the Oddsmakers kindly deposited me back in my room with a metaphorical pat on the head.
I could have screamed. But I didn't.
Instead, I'd spent the next ten minutes throwing up in the bathroom, the Oddsmaker's announcement continuing to wind insidiously through my head like a parasitic worm:
"Anne Moody, it is time for you to complete the first part of your mission."
I stabbed my finger at the register, startling the older man who was buying a wallet with fleur-de-lis stamped into the leather. I didn't apologize. I shoved his change at him and wished him gone. I wished them all gone. But it was too early to close up shop. And Anne Moody, as the Oddsmakers knew, didn't rebel against orders. She was spineless.
When business slowed, I pulled up my laptop and accessed the search engine. I Googled "green striped wallpaper Las Vegas", with only the barest of expectations. Lots of useless results came up, but on page three I found what I was looking for, amazingly, in a Missed Connections ad on Craigslist.
"Damn," I whispered as I gazed dully over the shop.
Nothing could stop me now.
~~~~~
I dressed like a badass. Jeans and a leather jacket. My lace-up boots with thick heels. I wasn't out to impress; I was out to send a message. I knew all about sending messages. The Oddsmakers had taught me and I'd taken the lesson to heart.
The handsome young man in the bathroom mirror whose face was being eaten by maggots looked like a supermodel compared to the ugliness that I saw in my own face. I waved at the curse, but since the guy's eyes were covered with the larvae, I guess he didn't see me. Or maybe he didn't like me.
That would've made two of us.
I wrapped up Vale's statue with the softest blanket I owned and la
id it tenderly in the center of my bed. Sunset was less than an hour away so I didn't linger. I called up a car service and then locked up Moonlight. I didn't, however, set the wards.
Just in case I didn't return.
The car service took me out of downtown and onto the 95 heading south. I watched the sun sink over the Spring Mountains, bathing Las Vegas in oranges and reds and eventually purples that gave way to night. When we pulled onto Boulder Highway it was fully dark. Things that went bump in the night would now be awake. I tried not to think about that, though, as we drove.
Boulder Highway at night could be less than savory. You wouldn't find high-priced call girls here. The prostitutes looked rough. The dealers looked rougher. Anyone walking alongside the highway looked like they were up to no good or had been victims of people who were up to no good.
Certainly where I was dropped off fit that description as well. The Runaways was a dive bar that made other dive bars look posh. You had to walk around a stinking Dumpster to reach the front door which didn't have a handle, just a piece of crooked wire threaded through the holes where the handle had once been bolted on. On a different day I would have pulled my jacket down over my hand before grabbing the wire, or maybe used the toe of my boot. But this was a different sort of day. I hooked my fingers through the wire and yanked the battered door open.
My eyes began to burn the moment I stepped inside. The smoke was a veritable slap to the face, a test of your manliness. I had a forest of hair spurting from my chest as I slowly made my way between the beat-up tables, many of which were missing all of their chairs.
There were three people in the place besides me. The bartender was a sleepy-looking grandpa type who was rubbing a rag over a spot on the bar top with such concentration it made me wonder if he was trying to bore an escape hole to get the hell out of there. Just across from him at the bar sat something gray-haired and hunched over. I say "something" because it could have been a woman or a man. Or maybe some kind of animal.
