by Claire Kane
Abruptly, the ground heaved beneath her, throwing her off her feet. The shaking continued for several seconds, setting dogs and car alarms howling. She got to her feet and turned slowly around to orient herself. When she found skyline of the Las Vegas Strip, her blood froze. The lines of smoke, the noise, the people running everywhere all told a tale she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Something in her gut said things were even worse near the casinos.
She clapped a hand to her chest as her throat constricted. “Nainai.” She had no idea whether her parents had made it to Vegas yet. Who knew what might happen to her grandmother, alone in this mess? Though she wasn’t sure where The Illusion was, her legs took over and she began running toward The Strip before she could think.
The other escapees fled the place like monkeys high on Speed, dashing and leaping around rubble and other debris with ease. The more she ran, the more Lacey realized the city was under siege by absolute craziness. What had happened for the brief time that she’d been locked up? Cars were honking all around, some even ramming into each other in out of control road rage. Multiple fist fights broke out amidst complete strangers in the streets. She watched as a Smart car rear-ended a taxi. The driver leapt out of the car almost instantly, then ran to the other vehicle, jerking its door open and diving in to put its driver in a sleeper hold.
The taxi was still running, the driver’s side door a wide-open invitation. Lacey was already on the hook for murder—what was a little grand theft auto in the midst of some chaos? She had to find her grandmother.
Lacey sprinted around the yellow cab advertising naked dancing girls. She hopped inside, slammed the door shut and rammed her bare foot against the gas pedal. The car leapt forward, like a lion in the jungle of traffic. The cab driver let go of his victim and started chasing after her, wild as a hyena. But it was too late. Lacey jerked the steering wheel to the right and barreled down an alley, knocking through tin trash cans like bowling pins.
“I’m coming, Nainai,” she said to the air. “Just hold on.”
TWENTY-ONE
It seemed like eons later that Victor’s faltering bubble of light finally linked up with Jessica’s. He’d found her somewhere just outside The Illusion. “How long have we been doing this?”
Jessica’s face was a picture of strain. He knew that, had she still been mortal, she’d be drenched in sweat. Were he not so drained himself, the idea of Jessica Simcox sweating profusely would have made him laugh. But the hosts of Hell still swarmed past, and Victor gaped at the effect it had on mortals. All around him, people had thronged the streets, openly engaged in every form of sin he’d ever known. He reflexively dodged as a madly-cackling man raced his car directly into a fountain on the hotel grounds.
Victor turned away from the resulting mess. That’s when he saw the supernatural thunderstorm brewing behind the hotel’s tower. His heart sank as he realized the ominous weather was right about where Zigmund and Ross had built their outdoor theater. Chanel had lied to him about many things, that day, and this seemed to be one more thing. Whatever “big plans” Ross had made seemed to have survived him.
“We need to get back there,” he called to Jessica, putting a ghoul in a headlock, then spinning it around as a weapon, beating back its comrades. “Looks like Zigmund figured out what his brother was trying to do, and decided it was a good idea. Whatever it is, I get the feeling that it’s going to make our situation look like a cheap sideshow.”
“I-I can’t keep this up much longer, Victor,” Jessica said, even as she lashed out at demon after demon, restraining them with what appeared to be glowing manacles anchored to the earth by rays of pure light. As if to mock her, the neon of Vegas flashed and pulsed in the background, bathing the scene in a dull, adulterous hue.
“Neat trick,” he said, wishing he could still pant. “Where’d you learn—” A ghastly being lunged at him, taking advantage of his distraction. In his surprise, Victor lost his concentration and dropped his shield just enough that he was swept away with the flow, his assailant slashing and clawing at him all the way. The current carried him a mile in mere seconds, and dragged him up the scale model of the Eiffel Tower, but he fought the creature off him and plowed a path back toward Jessica, linking up with her bubble of light a second time. The strain of fighting was seriously taxing his will.
“How far have they spread?” he asked, wincing as a demon rammed a spike into Jessica’s shield, nearly piercing it.
“No idea,” she said. “And I’m not even sure how well we’re holding this line. They’re miles from The Omelet House, by now, and I’m sure they’re only getting farther away. And something tells me it’s going to be a real battle to get to Zigmund.” As if to emphasize the point, a monster the size of the bus, and very much resembling a mythical Centaur on steroids, charged out of the darkness wielding a two-headed axe with a haft longer than Victor was tall.
“Since when did demons look like that?” Victor gaped, stunned.
“It’s their art of illusion. Their trickery,” Jessica said, then ordered, “Watch out!”
With a terrifying roar and amazing deftness, the demon brought the axe down toward Jessica, who, clearly drained, turned too slowly. Victor leapt between the weapon and his one-time girlfriend, and the wicked iron blade bit deep into his shield of light.
Before he could think, the other end of the axe whipped around, crashing through his deteriorating barrier and slicing deep into his leg. He screamed and dropped, clutching his leg. Though he could feel it stitching itself together in real-time, there was something about the corruption infusing the monster’s axe that kept it from instantly sealing as it should have.
The demon pressed its attack without hesitation, rearing to stomp on Victor with its forehooves. The crushing force drove him into the ground, leaving him grateful he could pass through solid matter. And yet, his torso wasn’t spared the brunt of the assault. He’d once heard that it was possible for angels to “die” in a certain way—the War in Heaven had proven that a millennia ago—and suddenly, he found he was afraid.
“Courage, Victor!” Jessica called from somewhere above him. A beautiful hand snatched his, and pulled him back into the open air. Jessica’s expression was drawn, but determined. “We only die in corruption and fear. Don’t let them—”
The monster hit them both with a mule kick, sending Victor tumbling clean through The Illusion’s casino. Jessica kept her feet, but was forced back nonetheless. More imps and ghouls appeared, swarming her, and Victor, emerging from the casino and struggling to continue the fight, watched as she went down, her shield bubble flickering and then failing. Three different imps shoved wicked, barbed needles into her, eliciting a cry of shock and pain, and in a heartbeat, they had her chained to the ground with a devilish version of the restraints she’d used on the Dark Ones. She struggled against her bonds, breaking a hand free and blasting an imp away with a shattering ray of light. Yet the little beasts were relentless, and Victor knew that even Jessica had passed her limits.
Victor lunged for her again, but the centaur beast batted him away with the flat of his axe, sending him skidding through the air. It barreled after him, axe raised high to strike.
“I am not,” he said, feeling the corruption still oozing in his leg, “going out like this.” With a roar, he leapt to his feet, only to stagger as spiritual pain ripped through his afflicted limb. He stumbled to one knee, and got a hoof to the face, spinning him violently once again. Another hoof guillotined toward him but, by a miracle, Victor managed to catch it. Still, the monster forced him down, and he felt the last of his strength trickling away.
The centaur bellowed as a shaft of light lodged itself in the creature’s throat. A second, then a third, then a whole cluster of blazing beams tore through the centaur, dissolving it in a screaming burst of brilliance. Something pearlescent flashed beside Victor, and he suddenly found himself on his feet again. The pain in his leg was gone, and when he looked, not even a hint of the angry gash was visible
. Even his angelic jeans were whole again.
More flashes materialized all around him, meeting anguished shrieks everywhere Victor turned. The light danced and swirled beautifully, driving back the darkness wherever it went. Victor blinked against the sight, still working to comprehend what he was seeing.
“Victor!” Jessica appeared in front of him and wrapped him in an embrace. “You’re okay!”
Still gaping, he slowly returned her embrace, eyes still transfixed by the miracle he beheld. “Uh, somehow, yeah. What, er, what’s happening?”
“Why do you think I didn’t follow you to The Omelet House the instant you ran after that Chanel Lockhart clone?”
He finally glanced at her. “Misplaced jealousy?”
She smiled, and he found the sight warm and welcome. “No, you dork. Unlike some of us, I actually ask for and follow instructions from Heaven. I wouldn’t have helped you with The Book of The Damned had I not gotten permission.”
“I got permission too,” he said, hating how petulant he sounded.
“For that, at least, yes. But you’re still too much of a Maverick when it comes to handling things with Lacey,” she said. “Thankfully, I’m not distracted by pretty faces. Just before I came for you, I managed to get clearance to use the Host of Heaven, should it be necessary. Your spirit guide helped me with that.”
“Speaking of my cat, where—”
She’s right here, the familiar voice of Rao said. A black-and-gold blur streaked past him, blasting aside a squadron of minor devils that were attempting to rally the dark forces. Rao was a tornado of furry justice, and demon after demon fell to her assault. Even Jessica looked impressed. After summarily dispatching the cluster of Dark Ones, Rao zipped back to Victor.
And you thought I was only good on the croquet field.
Victor laughed in relief. “Did I ever mention you were my favorite cat?”
Rao easily dispatched another wave of attacking demons before replying, You never fed me like it. I’ll let you make it up to me in Heaven. For now, you two get to Zigmund and stop him. I’ll have my honor guard clear a path, but it looks like we’ll be busy—a little too busy—cleaning up some doofus’ mistake to deal with him. Victor gave her a flat stare, but she simply smirked and turned to Jessica. Miss Simcox, keep this idiot in line until he gets back to Heaven. The Big Man will want to have a little chat with him.
Jessica dropped into a stance. “Then let’s not keep Him waiting.” Victor scowled, then grinned as he caught a wolfish glint in Jessica’s eye. He fell in beside her. Rao hovered in front of them, claws extended. Amid a rain of avenging angels, the three of them burst into action.
*
“Now folks, this really is the show of the year,” the Entertainment Tonight reporter said, squinting in her false eyelashes against the growing wind whipping through the outdoor theater. “We’ve gone from pyrotechnics to manmade climate change, all in this five-acre theater complex—and that’s to say nothing of the tigers.” She waved, and the cameraman panned across the crowd. All around, people were holding on to personal belongings as a gale snapped and bit at the attendees. Lightning burst to life overhead, followed instantly by a clap of thunder.
“As you can see behind me,” the reporter shouted, “not everyone is quite so thrilled with the show.” Indeed, dozens of people were already making their way to the exits. Meanwhile, Zigmund was riding a tiger around the massive grassy area in front of the stage, throwing showers of sparks from his hands.
“It is too early to leave, ladies and gentlemen,” he yelled. “Please, stay and enjoy the rest of the show. The best is yet to come.” He clapped his hands once, and a peal of thunder sounded. The exit gates snapped shut, at least one of them catching someone halfway through the door, and sandwiching them with a cry of pain. Zigmund and his security guards ignored the poor man’s cries for help, as well as the gasp and murmurs that rippled through the crowd.
“We are going to take a trip,” the performer called, standing upright on the back of his tiger as it continued to gallop. “A trip you will never, ever forget. And to see us on our way, I’ve invited some friends to join us as tour guides.” He rode the tiger to the stage, and raised his hands to the sky. “I know you are all out there, you little darlings. You just couldn’t wait to be part of this phenomenon known as ‘Gerald Zigmund’s life’ could you? Well, come now, my friends. Let’s show our guests a preview of where we’re all going.”
Lightning sparked through the theater. People screamed in terror, and a flood of dark spirits materialized, spilling over the theater’s back walls and into the crowd.
*
Victor couldn’t feel the earthquake, but he most definitely heard it, along with a chilling cry from Zigmund. The sky crackled with electricity, and demons turned away from him and Jessica to race toward the theater at obscene speeds. Rao’s angelic honor guard pursued them without needing to be told, but Victor stood, stunned, for a moment. “What did he just do?”
“I don’t know,” Jessica said, not missing a beat as she ran past him, “but we’re shutting it down like a hair salon that gives women mullets.”
*
“Oh, my gosh!” Lacey exclaimed through clenched teeth, forced by the city’s growing chaos to continue taking back alleys. “Victor, what is going on?” she said again, hitting her steering wheel in frustration with the butt of her hand. But she knew she was only speaking to herself. Somehow, her mental connection to her guardian angel had been cut off, making her heart beat even harder in panic.
“That’s what you get for telling your only supernatural helper to scram!” she scolded herself. “I’m sorry, Victor.”
Lacey turned left, her yellow car dwarfed between glittering, high-rise hotels. It was time to try and take the main road. Peeking her “borrowed” taxi between a narrowly open spot between vehicles on The Strip, she soon realized she was consigned to a dead halt, no way of going further. Most of the cars were already abandoned. A few dimwits honked anyway.
“What happened, Victor? Did your favorite monster, Godzilla, come to life? What else could it be?” Lacey’s dark eyes shifted frantically around for answers. The Illusion was less than a quarter-mile away on the other side of the main road. So close, yet so far.
She did like others, bolting out of her vehicle toward her destination. How had a chance for a comeback on an easy reporting job turned into this? “This was not what I signed up for!” And how much worse could things get?
Her sights set on The Illusion, Lacey soon found out. Just beyond its tower, a storm was brewing right above the theater. Her pace slowed as she was more shocked than ever. “Black magic,” she uttered, then the ground beneath her began to tremble and crack.
*
“What in tarnation?” Butch yelped, as he jerked the wheel to the right, barely missing a man who looked frighteningly like a zombie. It was the third one they’d seen in their mad dash for that fancy, new hotel Lacey had been staying in. “Where’d this storm come from?”
“Keep driving, son-in-law,” Nainai said from the back seat, leaning forward to jab a trembling finger toward downtown Vegas. “If Lacey’s no longer in that jail, then I bet my dim sum that she’s gone back to try solving whatever is going on here. You can’t keep that girl away from a good mystery.”
“We sent her to journalism school,” Mei Hua moaned from the passenger’s seat, “because it was supposed to be a good, safe compromise for her. I didn’t think it would lead her into this.”
“That little girl comes from good stock, Daughter,” Nainai replied. “You and me both. You know we would be doing the same things if we were still young and single.”
“Mother, please,” Mei Hua replied. “That’s not helping. Let’s just pray the ancestors that you’re right, and that we’ll find her. Once we do, I’m dragging her out of this whether she likes it or not, and the four of us are going someplace safe, where we’ll never have to deal with crazed drunks or ghost cats ever again.”
&nbs
p; “You are not moving me into a Buddhist monastery again!”
Butch swerved again, muttering a curse. “Could y’all, ya’ know, keep it down? I’m trying to navigate the zombie apocalypse here, and yer bickerin’s just a bit distracting.”
“Well then,” Nainai said, hefting the cane Mei Hua had brought her, “the hotel’s just a block away. Let me give you a hand getting there.” She slipped the cane between the front seats and, in more of a controlled stumbled than a lunge, jammed the thing down, and right into Butch’s foot. Butch hollered again as the rubber tip, driven by a hundred and fifty pounds of angry Asian grandmother’s wrath, flattened his foot—and the accelerator—to the floor.
*
Lacey was glad she hadn’t had to cross the last quarter mile to The Illusion on foot. She hadn’t run more than a few moments before a literal monster truck had come roaring out of a casino’s parking lot and slammed to a stop not ten yards from her. She shivered as she remembered the driver nearly falling out of the cab, the engine still running. The man had looked at her once, then ran away screaming and yanking clumps of his own hair out. His unnaturally pale, shriveled face haunted Lacey. Still she hadn’t thought twice about “borrowing” his truck at that point, and frankly she’d been glad for the ability to just roll across virtually anything that got in her way.
As she bumped and rocked across the damaged parking lot at The Illusion, she could see Zigmund and Ross’s gargantuan outdoor theater looming up before her, almost in challenge. A tempest twisted above it, a black mist rose from within. Already she could see cracks ripping through the structure’s façade, and found it ironic that Ross’ whole friendship had probably been just that.