Dance Only For Me

by Megan Derr

  "Sure seems like you see it that way, sometimes."

  Jackie shook his head. "What, because I don't want nothing to do with your cheating ass?"

  "You wouldn't even hear me out, try to work—"

  "There ain't nothing to work out!" Jackie snarled, balling his hands into fists. "You're the sonofabitch who let me down, betrayed my trust, cared not a whit about how I felt for you—just threw it all away. And all I get for explanation is I'm too black and white?"

  Roman gave a sour laugh. "No, as frustrating as you can be when you stick to your guns, that wasn't it. You burn too hot. I couldn't take it. I thought if I stepped back, cooled down, that I'd be able to handle it again… but you're too intense. Even now, I get tense and tired. I swear sometimes you act more like a demon than a human."

  Jackie recoiled at that, because it wasn't ever a compliment to be compared to a demon. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? I ain't nothing like a demon."

  "Have you ever seen a demon with a consort? I've seen a couple of them over the decades and it's always… alarming. It's like a demon goes crazy once they find their consort. This one, his consort got beat up by some goblins or something, I don't remember what exactly. The demon went ballistic. Even though his consort could handle himself and had already taken care of the problem, the demon killed them all and then terrified every other goblin in his territory so badly they left. Then he took his consort and no one saw them for almost a week. They're obsessive to a degree that would get a normal arrested."

  "And you think that's me," Jackie said, sorely tempted to break Roman's nose again, but holding back because it wouldn't do any good—wouldn't even really make him feel better for more than a second or two.

  "Yeah," Roman said. "You burn as hot as any demon and I thought it was sexy at first, but it's just too much. I'm sorry."

  Wasn't much left to say after that, even if Jackie could think of plenty of words he'd like to voice. He tipped his hat. "Hope you find your way to happier trails, Roman, but don't call me if you wander off the trail and get your fool self lost." He left, reappearing outside the club, and barely resisted an urge to slam his fist into the wall. If he was going to injure his hand, he was going to go right back and hit Roman after all, and he did not want to do that. It would probably only make Roman feel justified anyway.

  Roman didn't want him because he was too much like a demon. Jackie didn't even know how to begin making any sense of that. Intense, sure, he'd been called that before. Stubborn as the day was long, and not a man to be crossed—but that hardly made him a damned demon.

  He pushed the conversation out of his head before he finally succumbed to the hurt and anger and did something stupid. There was no way he'd be giving Roman the satisfaction of being right. That bastard could go straight on to hell and see what real demons were like.

  Drawing a deep breath, letting it out through his nostrils, Jackie pondered what to do next. He needed to move his things, take another look at that box of Robin's… and then there was the riddle of the cursed cards. His problems could wait, a curse could not, especially as sneaky as it was.

  The Tantalus, Roxie had said? Well, speaking of demons…

  Using one of his new keys, Jackie unlocked the front door of the club and went inside, cutting through it to the stairs in the back and up to his new home. In the smaller of the two bedrooms, he knelt on the floor and ran his hands over it. Whoever had lived there before had clearly been a magic user because the floor was made of slate tile so seamlessly put together it damn near could’ve been one piece. The place would make a nice work room when he got all his things moved in.

  Pulling out his chalk, Jackie carefully drew out the transport spell to take him to Sable Brennus's territory. There were about a dozen spells that any magic user worth his salt had to master, and high on that list was transporting, though it was also one of the most complicated spell circles to draw. The list of things that could go wrong if a transport spell was miscast was horrifying, but it was too useful a spell not to take the risks.

  When he finished drawing it, he checked it over carefully, idly tapping the chalk against his cheek. He tried to recall the last time he'd been over Brennus's way and thought it might have been that time with the gnomes. Little bastards. Tucking the chalk away, Jackie stepped into the circle and cast the spell, reappearing across the street from what had to be one of the most notorious casinos in the country—one of three, really, but everyone tended to count Sable Brennus's casinos together. Of the three, the Tantalus definitely stood out.

  It was, predictably, raining. Jackie hustled across the street and into the casino, grateful not just for the dry, but for the warmth of it. "Howdy," he greeted the man who came up to take his hat and coat. "I'm looking for the manager, need a word about an employee."

  "Yes, sir. I'll call him and let him know."

  "Much obliged," Jackie replied and wandered over to the bar while he waited. The bartender came down his way, smiling in greeting. He was so young looking Jackie half-wondered if he was old enough to be behind the bar. "Just a cup of coffee, darling."

  Nodding, the bartender slid away again. Jackie half-turned in his seat and looked out over the lobby area of the casino-hotel, marveling mostly at the profusion of paranormals that filled it. There weren't many places where such large numbers could safely gather—and get along so well. Paranormals had always drawn lines between each other. Most of the time, everything was kept peaceful enough, but matters had once been far more hostile and bitter. Some days, every now and again, they still were.

  The bartender reappeared with a cup of coffee that smelled like heaven. "Thanks," Jackie said and dropped a couple of dollars on the bar.

  "If you want anything else, just let me know," the bartender replied before wandering away again.

  Jackie snorted softly and drank his coffee, wondering how long he'd have to wait before someone saw him. Turning back to the bar, he pulled out his phone and tried to call his pa again, sighing when the phone just went straight to voicemail. He hoped the bastard was being used as a kirin chew toy in China.

  "You're Jackson Black," said a deep voice with the faintest hint of some foreign accent. Italian, maybe? Sort of, but not quite.

  Jackie set his near-empty coffee down before turning and standing. "Ayah, that's me." He looked the man up and down—demon, rather. Sable Brennus was a tall, dark, beautiful son of a bitch with eyes that gave away his storm-based abilities and enough power radiating off him even Jackie hesitated to get too close. "Wasn't expecting you to see me, my lord."

  "When notorious sorcerers drop in to ask about my employees, I tend to take an interest," Sable replied. "Come, we'll speak in one of the conference rooms." He led the way to the elevators, then turned his key in the button panel and selected a restricted floor. "So you are Jebediah Black's son. I know you've been here before, but we did not meet on that occasion."

  "No, sir, you met with Pa, gave us permission to come and go for our work so long as we didn't cause trouble. We was hunting gnomes that time."

  "I remember," Sable said, smiling briefly over his shoulder as the elevator doors opened and he led the way down an elegant hallway in shades of blue and gray. They went near all the way to the end before Sable pushed open a door and slipped inside.

  He gestured to the half dozen seats around a medium-sized table. The room was windowless and rippled with wards—demon constructed wards, which wouldn't be fun to break out of if it came to that, but he'd never heard tell that Sable Brennus mistreated anyone who didn't warrant it. Reclining in a seat of his own, looking very much the lord of the manor that he was, Sable asked, "So what brings you here asking after my employees?"

  "Just the one," Jackie said. "I'm here on behalf of a lady who done found herself being harassed." He reached into his duster and pulled out the cards, pushing them across the table. "I don't like whatever curse is laid on them, and I like even less the culprit has saved the ace of hearts for last. This whole thing starte
d after a bad breakup. Makes a man nervous about the curse what might be involved."

  Brennus's eyes flickered like lightning behind clouds as he picked the cards up. Outside, the thunder rolled. "Who is the employee?"

  "His name is Billy Wright."

  Shaking his head, Brennus said, "He didn't do this. Billy Wright comes from magic, but he has none of his own. The only sign he has abnormal blood is that he's impressively resistant to magic. He couldn't have done this and it's not really his style. The boy is just that—a boy. He thinks he knows the world, but he only knows it as well as someone twenty-five and fairly sheltered can."

  "I see," Jackie said. "The lady said it was a bad break up."

  Brennus's mouth quirked in wry amusement. "I remember the lady, I think—vibrant energies, much more world-wise than Billy. They may better suit when he has done some growing up."

  "You keep up on things well," Jackie said, not really surprised. Demons thrived on being controlling bastards.

  "Yes, I do," Brennus said with a smirk. It turned into a scowl as he stared at the playing cards he still held. "Unfortunately, not so well that I can immediately mark who would be casting a love spell by way of playing cards. It does seem very human, though."

  Jackie snorted at that, but didn't argue 'cause it was true enough. "Mind if I poke around?"

  "Not at all. I've called my floor manager to show you around. It will draw less attention." He stood up and Jackie rose with him, shaking hands when Brennus extended his.

  "Much obliged for the help."

  "I'm always happy to be of assistance. I dislike trouble when I am not causing it." Brennus's eyes flashed again. "If you need anything further, just ask the staff. Let me know what you learn, if you don't mind. I like to be kept informed, especially when matters concern my employees." Jackie nodded and Sable vanished. A moment later there was a knock at the door.

  It swung open and a sharp, handsome man in a fancy suit smiled at him. "Lord Sable said you needed to be shown around and taken specifically to Billy." He held out a hand. "My name is Devereux; I help Sable manage the casinos. This way, I'll take you to Billy."

  Down on the casino floor, they threaded their way through crowds and tables, the raucous noise of the slot rooms and on toward the rooms in the back. They kept going until they reached a series of even more secluded rooms. Pushing open a door, Devereux led him into a room that could only be described as opulent. The last time Jackie had seen that much velvet on the walls there'd been a lot of naked people running about. Thankfully, the room was empty save for a single young man fussing with the chairs around a large oval table. He was dressed like a dealer and wore the look well. Jackie could definitely see all the surface reasons Roxie would have liked the man.

  He also didn't have the look of someone who would do something as malicious as sneak a curse—and a love spell at that—into a bunch of playing cards. "Afternoon," he said as Billy saw them.

  Billy frowned, looking from Devereux to Jackie and back again. "Something wrong, sir? I know I showed up late, but I'm all ready for the game and the guests don't arrive—"

  "We're not here about that," Devereux cut in. "This is Jackson Black and he wants a word with you about Roxie."

  "Is she okay?" Billy asked, suddenly alarmed.

  Jackie smiled. "She's just fine, son. I just had a couple questions for you. Ever seen these before?" He held out the cursed cards.

  Billy's worry turned to fear. "Those belong to these high stakes rooms."

  "You look like you know something," Jackie said slowly. "Unless you always looked like a spooked calf when someone shows you cards, in which I'm impressed you can work here."

  Licking his lips, Billy replied, "It's just that Steve didn't show up for work this week, said he's been down with the flu. Didn't think anything of it, but … but after Roxie and I split up, he was real mad at her, thought she strung me along and was just using me and all kinds of angry nonsense. He said I'm too much of a push over and should be angry myself. I kept trying to tell him it wasn't anything like that and I thought he'd finally dropped it."

  "What sort of abnormal is he?"

  "He's got a bit of witch in him from his mom's side of the family. He's studying to take over that part of the business someday. He only works the blackjack tables out on the floor. Rumor has it he's about to be moved back to the Seraphim because he's just not keeping up with the Tantalus well and won't stop bitching about—well, he's angry about a bunch of stuff, honestly. But I didn't think he was so far gone he'd do something like this." He stared sadly at the cards. "What kind of spell is he trying to cast?"

  Jackie shook his head. "Something nasty, but you don't need to worry. Where can I find him?"

  "Um—he has an apartment on Holly Row, but that's all I know."

  "I can get you the address," Devereux said. "Thank you, Billy. Make sure they have the wine Mr. Charleston favors."

  Billy nodded. "Yes, sir. Please, will you let me know how everything goes and if Roxie is okay? I don't want to see her hurt because of me."

  "Will do, son. Take care now, hear?"

  "Thanks, you too," Billy said and turned back to the table as they left.

  "I assume you wanted to speak to Lord Brennus again before leaving?" Devereux asked, and at Jackie's nod led the way to the front of the casino, then turned off down a hallway to the right until they reached the door to what looked like a small, private bar that was empty except for two men, one of them Brennus. To judge by the look on his face while the other man yelled at him, the other could only be Brennus's consort.

  "You say that name like I should know it," the man said.

  Sable's mouth quirked. "His family has been here as long as I, Christian. I thought you would."

  "Yeah, because I so give a fuck about names. That's your game, Sable, not mine. Since when do I give a damn about one more sorcerer? The ones I deal with already are trouble enough."

  "Because of those, beloved," Sable murmured and nodded toward Jackie—more specifically, his revolvers.

  Christian whipped around, glowered, and drove an elbow into Sable's gut. "Really?"

  Sable just smirked and caught his elbow before it could do more damage. "I can see your latest case is going well."

  "Shut up," Christian replied, then turned back to Jackie. "Sable says you're here investigating some curse?"

  Jackie nodded. "We think it's another employee what's behind it, a man named Steve …" He turned to Devereux.

  "Steven McHardy, from the Seraphim. We were about to either transfer him back there or terminate him, you hadn't decided which yet."

  "Termination, I'd say," Sable drawled. "Shall I make it a very thorough termination?"

  Christian rolled his eyes, then looked at Jackie again. "Let me know if you need anything. Are those the alchemist-made revolvers I've heard about? Is it true they shoot magic?"

  Grinning, Jackie pulled out one of his revolvers and held it out to him, grip first. "Ayah, alchemist-made. Sam Colt had a few on the roster and one of them was damned close to grandpappy." He winked. "Custom made for him, only a Black can use them. There's layers of incantations all over them; every single piece was spelled before they were put together, and then the whole thing was spelled again. I've got a whole range of bullets, too, that I make myself."

  "Fascinating," Christian replied, handling it like someone who definitely never bothered with guns. But hell, if the man was half-ghost like rumors said, Jackie could see why he wouldn't need to bother—especially as he was a ghost with access to demon magic. "There aren't many abnormals who carry this kind of weaponry. Probably because this can't be easy to replicate."

  He handed it back and Jackie holstered it. "Not easy is a vast understatement. Even I can't replicate them, and the alchemist what done it was killed by werewolves 'bout seventy-five years ago. Ain't met another one yet that was up to the task. My pa's set are the only other ones."

  "I'm glad that's it, honestly," Christian replied.


  "Couldn't agree more," Jackie said. "Now if ya'll will excuse me, if I can get that address I'd best be on my way to get this problem resolved once and for all."

  Devereux nodded and went to a phone at the bar. A couple of minutes later he hung up and handed Jackie a napkin with an address and phone number written on it. "If you need anything else, just call."

  "Much obliged. Ya'll take care." Jackie bowed his head. "My lord, Consort." They bid him farewell and Jackie departed, thanking the man who greeted him in the lobby with his coat and hat. He had just reached the doors when a man came rushing in and ran smack into him. Jackie froze as familiar blue eyes met his, mouth pinching tightly.

  The boy went near as red as his mop of strawberry hair. "Um. Hi." He looked down, then back up. "I'm really sorry, I didn't know—"

  Aw, hell. Jackie sighed. "It ain't your fault Roman was a cheatin' bastard. Seems you were played a fool just as much as me. Don't worry yourself about it."

  Nodding, the man shyly held out a hand. "Um. My name is—"

  "Wyatt Thorne, I recall it," Jackie drawled, amused despite himself when Wyatt turned bright red. Just how old was the kid? He was starting to feel he should kick Roman's ass for a whole lot of things, and he probably would if he didn't prefer to put the bastard behind him. "Pleasure, I'm sure. Take care, now."

  "Wait—"

  Jackie ignored him, brushing by him to head on out and get the job done so he could get on with everything else that needed doing. Back outside the rain had mostly eased up and it didn't take Jackie long to find his way to the location he sought. The front door to the apartment building gaped open, further testament to the dubious nature of the place. It didn't take but a couple of minutes to find Steve's room halfway down the hall on the second floor. He pressed an ear to the door but didn't hear—no, there was someone about.