Double Down on Demons (Pandora's Pride Book 1)

by Annabel Chase

  Nathaniel snorted. “Why? Do you think one swooped down to claim your father tonight?”

  “That’s a lovely thought.” And a pointless one. Angels no more collected the good souls for Heaven than the devil tortured the bad souls in Hell. Humans had learned that lesson the hard way once the pit of despair opened wide and swallowed the world in a single gulp. I was glad I wasn’t raised to believe anything. The truth tasted more bitter with the sugar coating scraped off.

  Nathaniel opened his flask. The familiar smell of bourbon wafted over to me. My father drank bourbon the way the gods of old drank mead. I welcomed the bourbon to his lips. It was mainly when he drank too much that I heard the stories of his life before me—before my mother died. I didn’t mind that he’d pass out drunk and leave me to tend to the chores because the payoff was worth it. Another glimpse of the world outside our mountainous bubble. Of life before monsters ravaged the earth.

  The werewolf offered the flask to me and I took a long drink. I closed my eyes and luxuriated in the burn as the liquid coated my throat.

  Nathaniel chuckled. “Like father, like daughter.”

  I returned the flask to him. “This stuff’ll put hair on your chest.”

  He chuckled again and drank. “I have a few bald patches I wouldn’t mind mending. Age will do that, you know.”

  “No, I don’t know.”

  “Ah, to be young with a thick head of hair.” His gaze settled back on the crackling fire. “What will you do now?”

  “That’s easy.” I thought of the poker chip in my pocket. “I’m taking a trip.”

  “Salt Lake?”

  “No. Tomorrow I’ll leave for Atlantica City.”

  Nathaniel frowned. “Is that wise?”

  “You think my poker face isn’t good enough?”

  He laughed. “I think your poker face is incredible. I think the fact that you don’t know how to play poker might put you at a disadvantage though.”

  “You could come with me. Show me the ropes.”

  He cast a sidelong glance at me. “You and I both know you’re not going there to gamble.”

  “In a way I am.”

  He held his palms in front of the flame to warm them. “You know I belong here, and so do you. Quinn wouldn’t want you chasing your tail.”

  “You don’t care why someone murdered him?”

  “You don’t know that it was intentional. That…thing could’ve stumbled upon the campsite like a feral vamp.”

  “And the poker chip?”

  “A coincidence. Wouldn’t be the first traveler from the East Coast.”

  “Except that creature wasn’t a traveler. My father was hunted like prey.”

  “Says you.”

  “Damn straight says me.” I squared my shoulders.

  Nathaniel’s heavy sigh pierced my heart. “I don’t suppose I can talk you out of it.”

  I stretched my arms over my head. “You know me too well.”

  He nodded, his expression solemn. “Good luck to you, Callie. I’ll say a prayer for you.”

  “I appreciate that.” I stared into the flames, looking for any sign of what the future might hold. I’d met enough shamans to know it was possible. Not tonight, it seemed.

  I returned to a standing position, my knees cracking in the process. If there was to be no hints as to my future, then I had no choice but to rise up and meet it, starting first thing in the morning. I retrieved the chain from my pocket and fastened it around my neck. I tucked the chip under my shirt, but not before Nathaniel noticed.

  “You’re going to wear it?”

  I ignored the incredulity in his voice. “Yes,” I said simply. I knew what he was thinking—that it was odd to don the jewelry of your father’s killer. This was no random necklace though. I believed this poker chip held the reason for his violent death and that night I made a silent vow to stay in Atlantica City until I discovered exactly what that reason was.

  Chapter Two

  I wasn’t a fan of buses. Number one, I preferred the great outdoors to recycled air and the cramped seating of a bus. Number two, I was prone to motion sickness and nothing triggered nausea like a bus ride. I spent half the journey with my head between my legs and a paper bag at the ready. Unfortunately, my seat mate was larger than the average person and encroached on my space. I knew it wasn’t his fault that the seats weren’t bigger, but that didn’t help my present situation.

  The journey took two days with a multitude of stops. I got off at each and every one so that I could stretch my legs, use a restroom, and temporarily escape the nausea. My seat mate changed in Illinois and I was granted a little more elbow room. By the time the bus reached its final destination, my bottom was numb and I never wanted to see the inside of a bus again.

  The neighborhoods we passed upon entering Atlantica City looked straight out of the apocalypse. Squat, discolored buildings stood behind broken fences with signs that declared ‘no trespassing’ or ‘keep out.’ The ground seemed incapable of growing anything, including grass. The area was devoid of any trees or foliage. Empty dirt lots separated the buildings with the occasional car on bricks.

  The bus pulled into the depot and I practically jumped over my seat mate to exit as quickly as I could. I sprinted to the nearest trash can and immediately vomited into it.

  “That’s hazardous waste,” a voice said, aghast.

  I turned around and wiped my mouth with a tissue from my pocket. “Would you rather I used your shoes?”

  An old woman laughed beside me. “That happened to me once. Not the shoes, the vomit. One too many gimlets and a bumpy bus ride and…” She feigned throwing up. “Here. Take one of these. It’ll help.” She handed me a pale pink tablet.

  “Thanks,” I said. “It’s not a hallucinogen, is it? Because I’m not someone you want stuck in an illusion.” Mages were notoriously dangerous when drugs were involved and I avoided them at all costs.

  “Honey, I haven’t popped a fun pill since before the Plague. I won’t be handing them out like candy now.” The old woman inclined her head toward the buildings that spanned the horizon. “You trying your luck?”

  I popped the tablet into my mouth and chewed. “Of a sort,” I said. Instinctively, I touched the chip under the fabric of my shirt.

  “I come here every spring to roll the dice.” Her puckered lips parted to reveal a set of small pointy teeth.

  “You’re a pixie,” I said, unable to hide my shock. Pixies rarely aged like this, at least to my knowledge. Maybe life really was different on the East Coast.

  “And I looked like one too, until a witch cursed me with an aging spell.” She spat on the cement. “I come here to win enough so I can buy back my youth.”

  “You can buy it back?”

  “Not from her, of course.” The old woman smiled again. “But only because I killed her.”

  Lovely. I was making all kinds of new and wonderful friends here. Dad would be so proud.

  “I’m headed to Salt,” I said. “Do you know it?”

  “Everybody knows it. One of the best casinos in the country.”

  I surveyed the wasteland around us. “Are you sure about that?”

  She pointed to a looming building in the distance that seemed iridescent in the fading light. “That’s the one right there. I can’t afford to gamble there. The minimums are too high. Plus, they’re partial to more attractive guests and, sadly, I no longer qualify.”

  A laugh of surprise escaped me. “They limit their guests to the hot ones?”

  She shrugged her stooped, bony shoulders. “It’s run like a nightclub.” She patted my arm. “With that body and crazy girl hair, you’ll be fine.”

  I touched the strand of fuchsia hair that framed my face. “Crazy girl hair?”

  “Sure. Not so crazy that you’re certifiable, but just enough to let them know you’re inventive in the sack.” She winked. “Gods, I miss my old face. If you happen to win big enough to be generous, look me up. The name’s Alanna.”
>
  I broke into a grin. “I’ll be sure to do that.” I shifted toward her and caught sight of another building in the distance, this one closer to the bay. “Is that a casino too?”

  The old pixie followed my gaze to the dilapidated tower and she grimaced. “I don’t go there. No one does anymore. It’s been condemned for decades as far as I know.”

  I could see why. The mere sight of it sent shivers down my spine. I chalked it up to my inexperience in cities. I started missing the mountains the moment they disappeared from view. I had no idea how flat the rest of the country was. Kansas seemed to stretch forever. At least the ocean was here. Something new and exciting, not that I was here for vacation.

  “Good luck to you,” I said. I headed into the restroom of the bus depot to make myself presentable. If Salt only wanted attractive guests, I had to make sure I looked the part.

  As I examined myself in the mirror, my gaze drifted to the strand of fuchsia hair. I still remembered the first time we’d colored it. My father thought it best to hide my more visible birthmark—a strip of blond amidst dark waves—so he’d decided that we should dye it midnight black to match the rest of my head. My scalp had tingled from the potion and I’d cried, prompting a slap across the face from my father. He wasn’t a violent man—he’d sooner help a caterpillar across the path than step on it—but that moment was stitched into the patchwork of my memories. My cheek had burned from the slap itself as well as indignation. Although he never apologized, I knew he was sorry. He’d been frustrated and didn’t know how to handle his emotions. In hindsight, I understood. It had to be difficult after my mother died and he was left to raise an infant alone. He rarely spoke of my mother, despite my many questions over the years. When the birthmark once again began to creep its way from my hairline, my father had asked if I’d like to choose a different color for it. I’d chosen hot pink and never looked back.

  I peered at my reflection and noticed the blond beginning to show at the roots. I’d have to color it again soon. The hair was fine for now though. If I played my cards right—pun very much intended—then no one would notice my hair.

  The red poker chip gleamed against the black material of my neckline. I wanted it on display, thinking maybe someone would recognize it as more than a simple chip. Anything that cut down the number of inquiries. The more questions I asked, the more likely I was to be noticed by the wrong people—or worse, vampires.

  I turned to make sure my back was covered in order to conceal my other birthmark—a five-petaled red rose in the middle of a golden cross against the backdrop of a five-pointed star. A very fancy symbol also known as a mage mark. My father insisted that I keep it hidden at all times because to reveal it was considered arrogant and elitist. Only certain descendants of an ancient mage named Abraham sometimes bore this mark and, although it skipped my dad, I was the lucky recipient of one ginormous target on my back. That meant no skimpy tank tops for me, even at the height of summer. Like drinking the Green-Eyed Monster potion, I had to stay vigilant when it came to my birthmarks.

  Salt was a thirty-minute walk from the bus depot, so I ended up hitching a ride on the trolley. It stopped at every casino along the way, but the driver seemed intent on breaking some kind of speed record, so I arrived at Salt in a mere fifteen minutes. The driver complimented my hair and didn’t charge me.

  Salt was much classier on the inside than it was on the outside. The iridescent facade was cute in comparison to the glamour that awaited me, like a velvet box with a silk interior wrapped in cheap glitter paper.

  I strode up to the front desk like a bird of paradise strutting for a potential mate. I wanted enough attention to get admitted, but not so much to cause me trouble—a fine line. It was similar to hunting, which was my frame of reference for most things. My behavior as the hunter depended on the creature I hunted. My dad was brilliant at teaching me hunting skills, as well as magic. Despite living mostly among humans, he’d taught me to do magic from an early age because he wanted me to be comfortable in my own skin. More importantly, he wanted me to be safe and able to protect myself in the wilderness, from both the elements and the creatures that resided there.

  The admiring glances I received from the vampires I passed told me that I’d hit the mark. Although I was mildly uncomfortable amidst so many vampires, I couldn’t show it. Most of my interactions with vampires were limited to the feral ones we encountered in the wild and the occasional vampire willing to brave mountain weather. Their kind tended to avoid the cold, which was why the more popular havens for them included beach resorts and the desert. They also seemed to prefer skimpy clothes, judging from the appearance of those around me.

  I only waited in line for a minute before it was my turn at the desk. A vampire in a white uniform with gold braiding greeted me with a fanged smile. “Welcome to Salt. May I have your reservation number?”

  I feigned surprise mixed with mild disappointment. “Oh, did I have to make a reservation in advance? A friend told me that someone like me could score a room with no problem.” I laughed awkwardly. “I guess I should’ve asked what he meant by someone like me.”

  An elegantly dressed vampire appeared behind the clerk and whispered in her ear. His dark eyes never left me.

  The clerk cleared her throat. “How long will you be staying with us, Miss…?”

  “Wendell. Calandra Wendell.”

  “What a beautiful name,” the whispering one said. He raked his eyes over me and his gaze lingered on my chest. At first I thought my cleavage was working its magic until I remembered the chip. His seductive smile faded. “Where did you get that?”

  I looked down at the chip with an exaggerated frown. “Oh, you mean this? My dad gave it to me. I consider it my lucky charm.” My smile broadened. “I figure I’m going to need it here.”

  His handsome face remained neutral except for the tiniest flare of his nostrils. “Indeed.” He turned and stalked off and my insides trembled slightly.

  The clerk handed me a room key. “Unfortunately, we’re sold out of ocean view rooms, but I was able to reserve you one facing the bay.”

  I accepted the key with the appropriate level of grace and gratitude. “Thank you.” I scanned her badge for a name. “Katy.”

  Her shoulders straightened, seemingly pleased to be acknowledged by name. It was the little things that mattered, not the grand gestures. My dad had pounded that idea into me from the time I could talk.

  I followed the directions to the elevator bank where I could access my room. Security was surprisingly tight for a casino. I had to show ID as well as my key card at several points.

  My room was large enough to accommodate a king-size bed and a small seating area by the window. It would serve its purpose. I had no intention of spending a lot of time in here, not when the answers I wanted were out there.

  I took a long, hot shower and changed into a dress and heels that I bought on a stopover in Illinois. I spent extra time on my hair—which included any time longer than two minutes—and tried not to break my neck as I teetered on spikes back to the elevator.

  The casino floor wasn’t what I anticipated. According to my father, there were slot machines, poker tables, craps tables, roulette, and a few other games. He failed to mention the pole dancers or the blood lettings. I had to admit that I found the display of blood more artistic than cringeworthy. They were performers in a show and nothing more. The occasional vampire that dared to try to drink from the display was quickly beaten back by security with a shock stick.

  It was only after standing in front of one such display for an inordinate amount of time, transfixed, that I realized the vampire from the front desk hovered beside me.

  “Calandra has a lovely way of rolling off the tongue,” he said.

  I kept my focus on the performance. “Actually, I go by Callie.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noted the hint of a smile that followed my declaration. He was amused, at least. “I’m Oren. It’s a pleasure to welcome you to
Salt. This is your first visit here, I take it.”

  “What makes you say that?” I asked, without turning my head. I knew better than to look a vampire directly in the eye. Just because we didn’t encounter many in the mountains didn’t mean my father neglected to teach me about them. ‘Safety first’ had been his favorite motto.

  “You seem entranced by our displays,” he said smoothly. “If you’ll notice, most of the guests have walked past like the soulless zombies they are.”

  I smirked at that. “Soulless, eh? Wretched creatures.”

  “Vampires are soulful even without souls. I cannot say the same for many of our visitors at Salt.” His tone was tinged with dismay and disdain. A casino snob. The thought amused me.

  I finally faced him, careful to avoid his direct gaze. “Which games do you recommend?”

  His sensual lips curled ever so slightly. “That all depends on you.”

  I let my fingers drift tantalizingly across the chip. “Where can I bet this?”

  His eyes widened at that. “That chip…is not for betting.”

  “It’s a poker chip, isn’t it? I’d like to play it.”

  He shook his head. “No, my sweet. You most certainly do not.”

  “Then what can I do with it?”

  He studied me intently, from my heels to the shock of fuchsia in my hair. “Come with me.”

  As I followed him across the casino floor, worry began to gnaw at me. I’d never fought a practiced vampire before, only feral ones that acted purely on instinct. What if I had to fight one in these shoes? Even worse—in a dress? Lessons with my dad had involved boots and hiking clothes. Typical man. He never once suggested I practice in a dress and heels. I didn’t want to pay the price for his gender-based blind spot now.

  Oren escorted me to an elevator bank that was different from the one that took me to my room. The security team greeted him by name as we passed.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, as we waited for the elevator.

  His mouth split, showing off his sparkling fangs. “Somewhere reserved for our more esteemed guests.”