by Tricia Owens
But had we succeeded? Nothing had gone boom or wailed with disappointment at having been thwarted. Orlaton put us out of our misery by announcing with barely concealed pride, "It's done. We've manipulated the ritual enough to abort its original invocation."
"Are you sure?" I asked because it would be just our luck for something horrible to explode into the room and laugh at us.
"I'm sure." He sounded insulted. That actually relieved me. Orlaton knew his stuff.
"I guess that would explain why the Hell hounds just gave up," I said. "Wow. The Oddsmakers just totally wrote this whole thing off as a loss." I was suddenly filled with disgust as I looked over the room. "All these lives wiped out, and the Oddsmakers just shrugged. The Devil doesn't need to be lured to Earth. He's already here doing plenty of evil things."
"We can't dwell on this," Vale warned me. "They'll do worse than this if we don't stop them for good."
"Vale is correct," Orlaton said over the phone. "This mass sacrifice alone wouldn't have enticed the Devil to rise from Hell. It requires more, and chances are the Oddsmakers are doing it as we speak."
"So they're going all-out. Their final gambit." I rubbed my arms where goosebumps had risen. "What else would they need to do to lure the Devil here?"
"The options are endless. I couldn’t even begin to guess what they're doing," Orlaton replied. "You need to find them. Now."
"Right. No more side quests." I turned to Lev. "You need to go home."
Lev gnawed on his lower lip. Something like fear and yearning crossed his face. "Do you think it would be safe to see Celestina?"
"Just be smart about it. Check to make sure you aren't followed. But as for her? Yeah. I think it's a good idea to see her. She's out of her mind with worry for you."
He managed a strained smile. "She always tell me I spend too much time as wolf. Maybe she be happy she get what she want. I can't be wolf. Only man." His smile faded. "And I'm okay with that. Never again will I do bad things like I did as wolf."
"You didn't do those things as your wolf, Lev. You were something else. Something that's not the true you. Once this is all over, we'll figure out how to enable you to safely transform again and get rid of your spiky alter ego for good."
"Maybe."
"Now, let's get out of here." I gave a last, sad look at all the bodies of the Oddsmakers' innocent victims before I ordered Lucky to smash a hole through the wall of the building, allowing us to escape.
As I thought, the Hell hounds were gone, perhaps to return to their duties guarding the repairs. I experimented and asked Lucky to scrounge up change—turned out dragons were good at ferreting out coins, go figure—and used the findings to pay for a bus ride back to downtown. From there it was a short walk to our home street.
Lev headed straight for Celestina's while Vale and I rang the doorbell of our favorite kooky teenage occultist. The privacy slot slid open. Blue eyes peered out at us. The door unlocked without a single snarky remark or passive aggressive sigh. The times, they were a' changing.
I didn't expect congratulations from Orlaton and didn't get any. He paced a small, tight circle within the rotunda before he abruptly stopped and pointed a finger at me and Vale. "You need to assume the worst case scenario is on the horizon and decide what you're willing to do about it."
I stiffened. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He narrowed his eyes at me. "Don't play stupid, Miss Moody. You're far from."
No chance to savor the compliment. "Okay, so you're saying we have to decide how many people we're willing to risk as we try to stop this."
"And decide what you'll do when you fail to stop the Oddsmakers." Orlaton's voice dropped. "Because the odds are in their favor at this point that they'll succeed and we will not."
"Actually," I said, "I think you're wrong. Vale pointed out that we've managed to ruin every one of their plans so far. The ones that we know of, at least. In fact, I'd go so far as to say they're kind of incompetent."
"And they may know it," Vale said quietly.
I stared at him, the comment startling me. "Hell, I think you're right. It would explain why they've felt the need to obsessively practice every single step that they've taken using Echinacious' portraits. They don't trust themselves." My mind was boggled. "Why would that be?"
"They could be thorough planners," Orlaton suggested. His defensive tone made me think he was one such type.
"Could be," I said, "but for all their planning they haven't done anything right yet. It's really pretty strange."
Orlaton cleared his throat and fiddled with his bow tie. I could tell he was working up the courage to say something.
"When I was younger," he began haltingly, "my father urged me to take up self-defense courses. Martial arts and marksmanships."
I perked, triggered. "Because you were being bullied?"
He glared at me. "I was never weak, and even had I been the subject of bullying I know better than to let them win."
"Good for you," I told him, impressed.
"As I was saying, he wanted me to be able to defend myself because he said he feared the world was heading in the wrong direction. I had just turned fifteen. I could read between the lines. It wasn't the world at large that he feared. He had learned or seen bad things during his work with the Oddsmakers. I think he knew that he wouldn't be able to keep them in check, and that one day he'd fall out of favor with them.
"Instead of learning to fight or shoot, I requested an expansion of my knowledge. I asked to learn the occult arts because I could tell that the danger needed to be fought with magick. Since my only power is transformation, I needed to rely on ritual. My father loved the idea. Hence, the creation of Tomes, which you must admit is a fairly hefty gift to grant to a teenager."
I nodded, wondering what he was getting at. We were kind of on the clock here.
"My father wanted me to have all the knowledge I might possibly need at my ready disposal. He was excited about it. Excited, even. And he let something slip that I hadn't thought about until just now. He said, 'Gaining power through knowledge is perfect. You'll pass them going the other way.' When I asked him who 'they' was, he waved off my question and changed the subject."
"You think he referred to the Oddsmakers," Vale said as he studied Orlaton with interest.
"I know he did."
I scratched my head. "So what does that mean, 'you'll pass them going the other way?' Was he saying the Oddsmakers are losing knowledge? Growing dumber somehow?"
Orlaton sighed. "I can't say with any certainty, unfortunately. Without knowing what they are physically…I couldn't begin to guess at their intelligence or even how their brains are structured."
"Or if they even possess brains," I murmured, thinking of the disembodied arms that had held Vale pinned to the wall of the Oddsmakers' lair, and of the invisible forms that had pressed up behind the black spore-curtains. "Let's break it down. We know one of them's an albino vampire. Are vampires smart or are they simply predators?"
"Vampires do possess brains and can be as intelligent as we are." Orlaton smirked. "Well, as you are."
I smiled a little. "Okay, so that guy's a threat. Vale and I also encountered some invisible things while we were there, but I don't know if they're anything more than weak spirits. They might only be magickal constructs. For sure the owner of that creepy little girl's voice is a problem. She did all the communicating."
"The owner of the girl's voice is the leader," Vale said. "My father and brother faced her in France. But I believe she's different now. I don't know what she has become."
"What if it's only the two of them? It's the Wizard of Oz all over again. Pull back the curtain and the show's over. It's just two clowns doing a lot of outsourcing. That makes sense if you think about how easily they let us take control of that mass sacrifice. They couldn't stop us or retaliate because it's just the two of them and they were busy elsewhere."
"What about Charles' comment about knowledge?" Vale asked.
&nb
sp; "That part still gets me. In some way, Orlaton increasing his knowledge about the occult diminishes them. How? Argh. I wish this was more obvious. I'm beginning to feel like I'm the brainless one here." Irritated, I began pacing again. "We're missing something. I know it."
Vale crossed his arms as he watched me. "You said that earlier. When did you first begin to feel this way?"
I thought back. "Maybe after we learned about the Oddsmakers' painting?"
"Or was it after Echinacious' final message?" Vale prompted.
That made me stop again. "That was sort of odd, yeah. He wrote: 'We pray in Vegas. But who answers?'" I shrugged. "Was he anti-religion? What do goblins worship anyway?"
"Earth deities," Orlaton replied.
"I don't think the question was aimed at himself," Vale ventured. "He used the plural 'we.'"
I snapped my fingers. "Good point. So who's the 'we'? Humanity? Goblins? Magickal beings? The Oddsmakers? And what of the question itself? 'Who answers?'"
"A reference to God or a god?" Orlaton suggested, his voice tinged with a touch of eagerness, as though he got a kick out of puzzling this out with us.
I was right there with him, though less for the thrill of exercising my brain and more out of a desire to figure out our next move. I began to pace faster, my thoughts picking up speed.
"First we find the sigil that represents 'bargain' above all of the casinos and only the casinos," I said, talking it out. "Then we learn that the Oddsmakers are repairing those same casinos after destroying them during their attempt to open the Rift."
"The casinos clearly play a role for them." Orlaton rubbed his chin. "Perhaps the casinos need to be open. They're necessary to whatever the Oddsmakers are planning."
"Maybe because the casinos can't generate chance magick while they're closed," Vale pointed out, pushing me one step closer to my epiphany.
"Like the Oddsmakers are running out of energy, maybe? That's definitely possible, but I find it hard to believe they would've run out in less than a week. Especially if it's only the two of them. Then again, they're planning big things, and they might require a lot of…" I trailed off as connections began to form. "What if they need people to be inside the casinos when they attempt to summon the Devil? More human sacrifices?"
Before Vale or Orlaton could respond, I skidded to a stop so sharply my shoes made a squeaking sound against the wood floorboards.
"Oh, my god," I breathed. "I've got it." I looked at Vale and Orlaton. "With his message Echinacious wasn't talking about himself. He was telling us what the Oddsmakers are planning. 'We pray in Vegas. But who answers?'" When the two of them stared at me blankly, I filled in the blanks. "The people who pray most in this city are gamblers," I said excitedly. "Think about it: every time they push the spin button on a slot machine or double down in blackjack gamblers send up a prayer that they'll win. And who do they pray to?"
"God," Vale said softly. "Whichever one they believe in, although even atheists do it superstitiously."
"Exactly! And that's what the bargain sigil represents: gamblers begging some higher power to grant them good luck."
"But what's the significance of stating the obvious?" Orlaton asked, brows drawn down.
My mind raced ahead. "The Oddsmakers want to get gamblers back in the casinos and praying for good luck as usual. The sigils, though, have changed things. Instead of praying to God or whomever, maybe people are tricked into begging and making bargains with the Devil! Think of all the things people thoughtlessly promise in exchange for a good roll of the dice or a winning jackpot."
"Such as their souls," Vale said darkly. "The Oddsmakers are trying to lure the Devil here by offering up the souls of Las Vegas gamblers."
"Holy hell," I whispered as the full ramifications sunk in. The Oddsmakers' plan was genius and awful at the same time. The Oddsmakers were about to turn Vegas' number one activity into the reason it all went to Hell, literally.
"We need to stop those repairs," I told Vale, "and keep the casinos closed."
"They're occurring all over the city. We can't be everywhere."
I thought about our options. "Okay," I said slowly, "this may seem strange, but bear with me." I pulled out my phone, and I called up Kusahara again.
"You need to get soldiers on the repair sites on the Strip," I told him bluntly. "The Oddsmakers are messing with the Rift again."
I hung up so I wouldn't have to tell him more. Keeping him involved made me uneasy, so I wanted to keep some info close to the vest.
Vale casually approached me, hands in his pockets. "I take that to mean we aren't going after the glowing jellyfish after all?"
"The presence of the military will put an end to those magickal repairs, freeing us to go after the Oddsmakers themselves. Or lure them to come to us. Probably that. It'll be more efficient."
"You can't bring them here," Orlaton warned quickly as if the idea had just occurred to him. "You think you've identified them, but you could be wrong. They could be enormous. They could be toxic. Just—no, not here."
"Relax, Orlaton. I was thinking my favorite stomping grounds: somewhere far out in the desert."
"Or the mountains," Vale suggested.
"As long as no cabins or lodges are nearby." I pulled up a mental map of Vegas and the surrounds. "Shouldn't be a problem to find a suitable place. That won't be the challenge. The challenge will be tempting them with something they can't resist. Something important enough to draw them away from the city. As much as my ego likes to think I'm their most feared enemy, I may not be a big enough concern if they've got this massive plan in the works."
"What if we offer them a three-for-one?" Vale said mildly.
I eyed him with confusion. "What do you mean?"
"If offered the chance to eliminate the three biggest thorns in their sides, I doubt the Oddsmakers will be able to resist."
"Again: who?"
"You, me, and my brother."
I stared at him.
"They'll drool over a chance to get their hands on a dragon while simultaneously wiping out the heirs of the Paris Gargoyle throne. They strike me as being revenge-minded."
"Xaran is here? In Vegas?"
"He could be if I called him."
"I need to think about it," I told him. Bringing in more potential victims wasn't exactly my first or even third choice. There had already been too many casualties, and there was a high likelihood that the situation would get worse before it improved. Plus, the thought of potentially being responsible for killing off an important bloodline just made me feel ill inside.
"We don't have the luxury of time," Vale reminded me softly. He stroked down my arm with his fingertips. "From here on out, we need to make quick, bold decisions. Even if they're painful. The Oddsmakers are scrambling. We need to keep up the pressure on them."
He was completely right, but I didn't like agreeing with him if it meant putting him and his brother in harm's way.
"We'll see," I said vaguely. "The more urgent issue is how will we handle them if we do lure them out? So far they've proven to have some crazy strong power."
"I've been thinking about that." Orlaton flashed us a smug look. "Tales of the Oddsmakers' exploits are legendary and possibly exaggerated, but they have one thing in common: they all occur within or from the base of their home."
"Lair," I corrected him. "These things don't have a home; they dwell in a lair. Like all evil things."
"Fine. A lair. But in light of their recent behavior, I'm going to boldly suggest that they've left the safety and power of their lair in favor of expediency."
"Boldly suggest, huh?"
"Yes. The murder of Echinacious, the fact that you haven't been teleported into their presence, the abandonment of Vagasso's corpse…these things reflect a complete change of their modus operandi."
"They're panicking," I interpreted.
"Following the attempt to open the Rift, I took the liberty of studying websites offering seismology reports for southern Nevada." Or
laton was so smug right now he looked ready to explode from it. "The area around Area 51 suffered an event."
"An event," I repeated. Why did this kid love dragging things out?
"A seismic event, also known as an earthquake. While I don't know where the Oddsmakers' lair was located, I would go so far as to suggest that this earthquake either damaged it or revealed its location to the military, thus flushing the Oddsmakers out of it."
I liked that a lot. It fit into my hopeful narrative in which the Oddsmakers were keystone cops tripping over themselves and were easy pickings when we finally confronted them. Who knew if that was true or not, but it was inspiring.
"If they're on the run then they're vulnerable," I said with fingers crossed. "But that still raises the challenge of how to lure them out of the city." I tapped my chin. "We should talk to Uncle James about this. He's known about the Oddsmakers for a while, and he had conversations with your dad which might prove helpful." I gave Orlaton a stern look. "Stay inside. Don't leave here until this is all over."
"I never had any intention of leaving," he told me stuffily, which certainly explained his pallor. Did he even remember what the sun looked like?
Vale dogged me on the way to the front door.
"You shouldn't go out of your way to protect us, Moody. Xaran and I have been fighting this fight since before you were born."
"Oh, no. Don't pull the age card on me. You and your brother may have been involved in this for a while, but I'll bet money that you've never had the Oddsmakers pressed to the ropes like this. You know what they say about cornered beasts. They're going to be a thousand times more vicious, which gives me a thousand reasons to think of an alternative to offering you and Xaran as bait."
"What about the fact that they killed our father and replaced him with a demon?"
I winced in sympathy, but I kept walking. "I get it, Vale. Seriously, I do. Maybe more than anyone. But I can't do it. I won't deliberately put you both in harm's way."
He caught my arm, pulling me to a stop. I could have flung him off but he wasn't my enemy and as I'd said, I sympathized with his situation.