Billy hadn’t liked the idea when I’d explained what I wanted in the car. This was the most powerful he’d felt in a long time, and if he was going to waste it on a possession, he stated plainly that Jimmy would not be his first choice. But, like I told him, all I needed was time enough for the loser to tell me what I wanted to know, and then confess his sins to the Vegas PD. Even if he denied it all later, if he had provided enough particulars on a bunch of unsolved cases, he would have trouble eluding justice. And, if plan A didn’t work, I could always shoot him. I was already on the run from Tony, his allied families, the Silver Circle and the vampire Senate; after that, the cops didn’t scare me much.
Billy Joe and I sat at the end of the bar. I hadn’t seen him this juiced up in a while—those wards he ate really must have been something. He looked almost completely solid, to the point that I could tell he hadn’t shaved for a day or two before his death. But no one else seemed to notice him, although no one tried to sit on his stool, either. If they had, and they were norms, they’d have felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over their heads. Which was why we took seats far away from everyone else.
“You going to tell me why we’re here?”
I glanced about, but there was no one close enough to notice if I started talking to myself. Most of the bar, which seemed to have an exclusively female clientele, was busy ogling the waiters, who happily ogled right back. A handsome black-haired satyr nearby was encouraging one of the patrons to see whether she could figure out where his “costume” began. She had the glassy-eyed look of someone who’d been drinking for a while, but the hands she was running over his sleek black flanks were remarkably steady. I frowned; if I’d still been with Tony, I’d have reported him. He was practically asking for someone to figure things out and run screaming to the cops.
“You know why. He killed my parents. He must know something about them.”
“You’re risking us getting caught by the Senate, who are not going to underestimate you again, I might add, to ask a couple questions about people you don’t even remember? You’re not planning on blowing this guy away, are you? A little payback for messing with you? Not that I mind, but it might draw attention.”
I ignored the question and ate some peanuts out of a little bloodred serving bowl. Wasting Jimmy wouldn’t be as satisfying as taking out Tony, but at least it would be something. A sign to the universe that I’d had enough of people screwing up my life; I was perfectly capable of doing that all by myself. The only problem was the actual killing part of that scenario, which frankly made me nauseous to even think about. “You’ll see what he did in a minute if the possession goes okay.”
“That’s a big if. Demons are the possession experts; I’m only a lowly ghost.”
“You never have trouble with me.” Billy Joe had been heavily into wine, women and song in life, with a strong emphasis on the first two. I can’t help him much with the second need, and I hate his taste in music, which runs to Elvis and Hank Williams. But I occasionally reward him with a drink if he’s been exceptionally good, and, of course, that means a little more than buying him a six-pack. Those instances aren’t a real possession, though. Although I let him in to use my taste buds, I remain in full control. He plays nice during these infrequent events because he knows that if he doesn’t, when his power runs out I’ll bury his necklace in the middle of nowhere and leave it to rot. But as long as he keeps to the rules, I let him in on special occasions so he can eat, drink and be merry right along with me. Since I’m not in the habit of getting plastered and trashing bars, it’s never quite wild enough for his tastes, but it’s better than nothing.
“You’re an unusual case. It’s a lot harder with other people. Anyway, humor me and answer the question.”
I toyed with a tiny death’s-head swizzle stick and wondered why I hesitated. My parents’ deaths weren’t that hard to talk about. I had memories from my street years that I would never willingly revisit, but as Billy Joe had pointed out, I’d been only four when Tony ordered the hit. My memories before that are hazy: Mom is actually more a smell than anything else—the rose talcum powder she must have liked—and Dad is a sensation. I remember strong hands throwing me into the air and spinning me around when they caught me; I know his laugh, too, a deep, rich chuckle that warmed me down to my toes and made me feel protected. Safe isn’t something I feel very often, so maybe that’s why the memory is so sharp. Other than that, all I know about them came from the vision I had at age fourteen.
Along with puberty, my cosmic birthday present that year was to see my parents’ car explode in an orange and black fireball that left nothing but twisted metal and burning leather seats behind. I’d watched it from Jimmy’s car while he made a phone call to the boss. He lit a cigarette and calmly let him know that the hit had gone as planned and that he should pick up the kid from the babysitter before the cops started looking for me. Then it faded, and I was alone in my bedroom at Tony’s country estate, shivering with reaction. Childhood pretty much ended for me that night. I’d run away an hour later, as soon as dawn came and all good little vampires were in their safe rooms. I’d been gone three years.
Not having bothered to plan out my escape in advance, I didn’t have any of the perks the Feds had thoughtfully provided the second time around to cushion the experience. There was no fake social security card or birth certificate, no guaranteed employment and no one to go to if things went wrong. I’d also had no real idea how the world worked outside Tony’s court, where people might be tortured to death from time to time, but nobody ever dressed poorly or went hungry. If I hadn’t had help from an unlikely source, I’d never have made it.
My best friend as a child was Laura, the spirit of the youngest girl in a family Tony had murdered around the turn of the last century. Her family home was an old German-built farmhouse that sat on sixty pretty acres outside Philadelphia. It had some enormous trees that were probably already old when Ben Franklin lived in the area and a stone bridge over a small stream, not that its beauty was the main attraction for Tony. He liked it for the privacy and the fact that it was only an hour’s commute to the city, and he didn’t take the family’s refusal to sell very well. Of course, he could have simply bought another house in the area, but I doubt that even crossed his mind. I guess losing our families to Tony’s ambition gave Laura and me a bond. Whatever the reason, she had refused to stay in her grave under the old barn out back and roamed the estate at will.
That was lucky for me, since the only other little girl around Tony’s was Christina, a 180-year-old vampire whose idea of playtime wasn’t the same as mine, or any other sane person’s. Laura was probably close to a century old herself, but she always looked and acted about six. That made her a wise older sibling when I first came to Tony’s, who taught me the joys of mud pies and playing practical jokes. Years later, she showed me where to find her dad’s hidden safe—with more than ten thousand dollars in it that Tony had missed—and acted as a lookout when I ran away the first time. She made a nearly impossible task feasible, but I never had a chance to thank her. By the time I returned, she had gone. I guess she’d done her job and moved on.
The ten thousand bucks—along with the paranoia I’d learned at Tony’s—had allowed me to survive on the streets, but it was still a time I tried to avoid thinking about. The lack of material comforts and occasional danger weren’t what convinced me to go back, however. I’d made that decision based on the realization that I’d never be able to get revenge from outside the organization. If I wanted Tony to suffer for what he’d done, I would have to return.
It easily ranked as the hardest thing I’ve ever done, not only because I hate Tony so much, but also because I didn’t know whether his greed would override his anger. Yes, I made him a lot of money and was a useful weapon he could hold over the heads of his competitors. They never knew what I might tell him about them and, while it didn’t keep them completely honest, it did cut down on the more blatant cheating. But that d
idn’t reassure me much. Tony isn’t always predictable: he’s smart, and he usually makes decisions for financially sound reasons, but there are times when his temper gets away from him.
He once took on another master over a minor territorial dispute that could have been solved with negotiators from either side sitting down together for a few hours. Instead, we went to war, always a dangerous business (if the Senate finds out about it, you’re dead whether you lose or not), and lost more than thirty vamps. Some of them were among the first Tony ever made. I saw him crying over the bodies after the cleanup crew brought them back to us, but knew it wouldn’t make any difference the next time. Nothing ever did. So all things considered, I hadn’t known whether to expect open arms or a session in the basement. It had been the former, but I’d always had the feeling that this was as much because I caught Tony on a good day as because I was useful to him.
It took three very long years to amass enough proof to destroy Tony’s operation through the human justice system. I couldn’t go to the Senate, since nothing Tony had done actually violated vamp laws. Killing my parents was perfectly okay, since neither had the support of another master, and the hit had been made to look like something human criminals had done. As for misuse of my powers, they’d probably have applauded his business acumen. Assuming I even got in to see them, they would have merely returned me to my master for appropriate punishment. But no human DA was going to listen to anything I had to say if I started talking about vampires, much less some of the stuff that went down at Tony’s on a regular basis.
In the end, I’d had to set him up the same way the Feds got Capone. We nailed him on enough racketeering and tax-evasion charges to put him away for a hundred years. That isn’t all that long to an immortal, but I was hoping the Senate would stake him for drawing too much attention to himself long before he had to worry about whether his cell had a window or not.
But when the sting went down, Tony was nowhere to be found. The Feds managed to round up and indict some of his human servants, but of the fat man himself there was no sign. Both his warehouses in Philly and his mansion in the country were empty, and my old nurse was dead in pieces in the basement. Tony had left me a letter explaining how his instincts had warned him that something was wrong, so he’d had Jimmy torture Eugenie to find out what I was doing. Vamps can take a lot of abuse, and Genie loved me; it took a long time to break her, but, as Tony said, he’s the patient type. He wrote that he’d left me the body so I could dispose of it properly, since he knew how much she had meant to me. And so I’d know what I had to look forward to one of these days.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I admitted to Billy. “But my parents weren’t the only ones he killed who were important to me.”
“I’m sorry.” To his credit, Billy Joe knew when to stop pushing, and we sat in silence until the waiter returned with effusive apologies. The boss was unavailable for the evening. Apparently, Jimmy had gone home with a headache.
I flirted with the satyr for a few seconds before sending him off for another drink. As he left, Billy emerged from his head, looking surly. “And I thought I had a dirty mind! You don’t even want to know what he was thinking about you.”
“Got that right. So where’s Jimmy?”
“In the basement, like I told you. They posted a loss last quarter, so Jimmy’s being sent to the ring.”
Talk about childish. The Senate wouldn’t let Tony kill me, so he was taking it out on someone else. I stood up and headed for the exit. There were a few things I wanted to ask Jimmy before he made his contribution to the evening’s entertainment. But I knew I’d better hurry. The ring was Tony’s favorite spectator sport, but it tended to have a detrimental effect on the participants. He had decided a century ago that it was a shame to simply kill anybody who displeased him, and had set up a boxing ring to decide things instead. But it wasn’t used for boxing, and only one fighter walked out alive after each anything-goes match. It beat the usual Vegas fights all to hell, and like them, was usually rigged so the right person lost. “How do I get down there?”
Billy located a service stairway by the ladies’ room for me, while he disappeared through the floor to do some advance scouting. He reappeared about the time I hit the lower levels, with less than happy news. “Jimmy’s scheduled to be up next, and they got him matched against a werewolf. I think it’s one of that pack Tony took on a few years ago.”
I winced. Great. Tony had ordered their alpha killed to encourage them to move out of his territory, and Jimmy had done the deed. So any member of that pack was required to kill him on sight or die trying. If he got in the ring, he was not walking out again.
I reached for the service door only to find Billy barring the way. “Move. You know I don’t like walking through you.” I’d fed him once tonight, and that was enough.
“You aren’t going in there. I’m serious; don’t even think about it.”
“The only person who might tell me about my parents is about to be eaten. Get out of the way!”
“Why, so you can join him?” Billy pointed a very substantial-looking finger. “Through that door is a hallway. At the end of it are two armed guards. They’re human, but if by some miracle you get past ’em, there’s a whole roomful of vamps on the other side. You go in there and you’re dead, and without you I’ll soon fade too far to do any damage. End result—Tony wins. Is that what you want?”
I glared at him. I hate it when he’s right. “Then what do you suggest? I’m not leaving until I see him.”
Billy grimaced. “Then come this way, fast.”
We fled down the corridor in the opposite direction, and I was soon glad that Billy was there to provide directions. The place was a rabbit warren of tunnels, all painted the same industrial gray. In minutes I had no idea where I was. We stopped several times to duck into rooms, most of which were filled with cleaning supplies, broken gambling machines and, in one case, wall after wall of computers. The one thing they didn’t have was people—I guess everyone who was off duty was at the fights.
I thought we were avoiding being seen again when Billy disappeared into another wall, so I didn’t waste any time flinging open the door. This time, I was met with a large room stuffed to the ceiling with what looked to be extra props and decorations. A collection of African masks and spears sat beside a suit of armor that was missing the bottom half of one leg. A rather ratty-looking stuffed lion’s head leaned against a mummy case, which had been modified to house a poster board advertising a magic show. It was watched over by a huge statue of Anubis, the jackal-headed Egyptian god, who seemed to be glaring at something in the far corner. I followed the line of its glassy, fixed stare and found Jimmy’s ugly face peering out of a heavy-duty reinforced cage. The pointed features, slicked-back black hair and shifty eyes were those I remembered, but he must have been doing pretty well recently, because his usual baggy suit had been replaced with a sleek tan number that looked like it had been made for him.
It took him a few seconds to place me. When he’d known me, my hair had reached the small of my back and I dressed in Eugenie’s version of appropriate attire for young ladies, which meant long skirts and high-necked blouses. The hair had been sacrificed to a more practical, and far less memorable, bob as soon as I went with the Witness Protection people. It had grown out some since then, but not enough to make much difference. And Jimmy had never seen me in anything like the leather number. After a confused few seconds, though, it clicked. So much for my great disguise.
“Cassandra! Goddamn, it’s good to see you! I always knew you’d be back someday. Let me outta here, would you? There’s been a big misunderstanding!”
“Misunderstanding?” I found it hard to believe that he really thought I’d just walked back into the organization. Tony might forgive a fourteen-year-old who had run off in what he assumed was a fit of adolescent angst, but an adult who had conspired to destroy him was another matter. I debated leaving Jimmy where he was, but although I liked h
aving him securely behind bars, I preferred to talk somewhere less likely to be interrupted by Tony’s thugs.
“Yeah. One of my assistants is trying to get ahead the easy way, and lied about me to the boss. I can straighten things out, but I gotta talk to Tony—”
“You certainly took your time.” I looked around at the sound of a tiny voice but didn’t see anything. “I found the witches, but one of the vamps caught me. Get me out!”
I glanced at Billy. “Who said that?”
“I’m over here! Are you blind?” I followed the squeak to a small birdcage that was almost hidden behind a peacock-feather fan. Inside was a woman about eight inches high and mad as a hornet. Flaming red hair framed a perfect Barbie-doll face and a pair of pissed-off lavender eyes. I blinked. What the hell was the bar putting in the drinks?
“It’s a pixie, Cass,” Billy said, looking unhappy. He drifted in front of her cage, and she scowled at him.
Tiny fists grabbed the bars of her cage and rattled them angrily. “Are you deaf, woman?! I said, get me out! And keep that thing away from me!”
“You know her?” I asked Billy, surprised. Apparently, he’d had a more interesting social life than I’d thought.
He shook his head. “Not that one, but I’ve met others. Don’t listen to her, Cass. None of the Fey are anything but trouble.”
“She’s probably headed for the ring,” I protested, trying to deal with the fact that Tony had found a way into Faerie, which wasn’t a myth after all.
“These bars are iron, human! I feel sick already. Release me right now!” I blinked, surprised that a tiny voice could echo like that.
“Don’t do it, Cass,” Billy warned. “Doing the Fey favors is never a good idea. It comes back on you, and not in a good way.” Her teeny face flushed an ugly red and she let out a string of imprecations in a language that I didn’t know, but he obviously did. “Nasty, vile creature!” he spluttered. “Let her go to the ring, and good riddance!”