by Jana Denardo
“That’s him, right?” George vibrated with enthusiasm.
“Yes. That’s most definitely him. Thank you very much. Well done.” She took the phone, studying Arrigo and his friend. “Do you know who the woman is? Is she a lover?”
“Can’t say. Her name’s Taabu. She’s his partner. I don’t have a last name or if Taabu is her real name or a stage name for the whole psychic thing. I haven’t had time to look online for more information about her, besides I’m not a hacker anyhow.” He shrugged. “I didn’t try to follow her. I tailed him, which is why I was late.”
Eleni had no head for electronics. She tried to keep up with the times, but the last decade had moved so fast, into areas she didn’t care for. She used what she could electronically, even if she didn’t fully understand half of it. “Did you find his home?”
His shoulders slumped, and George took his phone back. He scrolled past a few more pictures. This time he showed her a scuzzy-looking biker bar, a perfect place to find a meal no one would miss. “No. I found him by sheer luck. I followed him into this neighborhood, staring at the bar for some reason like he was going inside, but he didn’t. He went up a block to a diner. I couldn’t hang around in there. It was too empty. He might have noticed. Sorry.”
“This is an excellent start, George.” Eleni kissed him, and he perked up. “Give it time. You’ll find out where they live. There’s no rush.” That wasn’t entirely true. She would have to be careful not to get Arrigo’s attention too early. It wouldn’t be hard to hide her kills in a city the size of Vegas. She didn’t want him and the rest of the Chiaroscuro hunting her down, at least not yet.
“It should be easy enough now that I know where he works.” George caressed her cheek. “Do I get a reward?”
Typical man, thinking he needed a reward for doing his job. Still, he had done well and didn’t pester her constantly to make him a vampire. If he wanted a little sex, what did it hurt? She kissed him like it meant something.
“You most certainly do.”
Chapter Three
NOW THAT the sun tucked itself below the horizon, Arrigo strolled out of the MGM where he had been working off the day’s hours, unable to sleep. He might be old enough to withstand daylight, but the noonday Vegas sun hurt his eyes and made his skin tingle. That was the great thing about living in Cleveland. It was always overcast there! Granted, sunlight didn’t hold the terror it had in Arrigo’s mortal days, but the temperature tipped over a hundred degrees, not counting the reflected heat from the asphalt and cement. Arrigo knew he had been spoiled by air-conditioning and soft living. The Roman soldier in him only lived on when he took assignments for the Chiaroscuro.
So absorbed in what he was doing, Arrigo nearly passed right by someone he knew. For a moment all he could do was stare. Hawking water bottles on the sidewalk out of a cooler—something Arrigo considered questionably legal—Luc sat on the curb, sporting a black eye.
“Luc?”
Luc squinted up at him as he tried to place him. “You’ve been to the Alibi and Delilah’s, right?”
“Yes, Arrigo Giancarlo. Surprised you remembered me.”
Luc shrugged. “You ain’t hard and desperate-lookin’ like the rest. You stand out.” He had a delightful Cajun accent.
“What happened? Another bar fight?” Arrigo gained nothing by pretending he didn’t notice the shiner.
Luc’s gaze dropped, and he fussed with the water bottles, not even trying to hawk them to the passersby. “Something like that. The Alibi has a rough clientele. Ain’t the first time I’ve been hit.” He cast a glance into his mostly full cooler, rubbing the cross he wore on a thin chain. “No one’s buying today. Da ain’t gonna like this.”
“I’m sorry.” Arrigo shifted, trying to find more shade. His skin itched. He wondered if it was a drunk or one of Luc’s family who had hit him. He suspected Luc was lying. Pulling out his wallet, he offered Luc twenty dollars. “This should cover it.”
Shaking his head, Luc tucked his hands under his legs. “I can’t take that.”
“Please. You can keep the water,” Arrigo offered.
Luc went pale, making the black eye stand out more. “Then Da would want to know how I got the money without selling anything.”
The way Luc’s voice shook, Arrigo could imagine what Luc’s father would think, given Luc’s pretty, rather than handsome, face. With his fluffy curls, Luc presented a downright cherubic image. He’d have no problem convincing lonely older men to give him gifts; Arrigo didn’t put himself in that category even though he was older than most. Something stirred in his gut about the cause of Luc’s injuries. If the drunk had mentioned seeing Luc in an alley with what he thought was another young man, Arrigo didn’t doubt Luc’s father would react violently. He seemed to respond viciously to most things from the few times Arrigo had seen him. Arrigo truly regretted his impulsive would-be snacking. He wished he could make Luc’s family stop hurting him. Vampires could control minds but only briefly and in very limited ways. The effects quickly faded, so the best he could do would be to take the pressure off for a night and only if he spent a good deal of time concentrating on it.
“Okay, I’ll take as many as I can carry, then.”
Luc’s pale brow beetled. “Why are you being so nice? You barely know me.”
“Call it karma.” Arrigo waved the twenty. This time Luc took it. Arrigo stooped and loaded his arms up with several water bottles. “Let’s just say I have the means, and it makes me feel good to help others. Why don’t you go get out of the heat? It’s only going to make your eye worse.”
Luc got up, dusting off his backside. “Thanks, mister.”
“Giancarlo,” Arrigo supplied, a little disappointed Luc hadn’t used his first name.
“St. John,” Luc offered. “I’d shake your hand, but they’re a little full.” He smiled. “I really appreciate this.”
“Not a problem.” Arrigo jerked a chin in the relative direction of the Veer Towers. “I’m heading that way.”
Luc nodded. “Actually, I hafta go back that way too. Put the waters back in the cooler until we get there.”
“Good idea.” Arrigo willingly let the cool, slimy bottles drop back into the ice. Luc sealed the cooler up and pulled on the handle. It had wheels for traveling. His torn knuckles suggested he had gotten in a few punches of his own. At least nothing oozed blood to excite Arrigo’s senses. “You’re from Louisiana, right?” he asked once they were underway.
“Yeah, guess my accent gives it away. They tell me I sound like one of the Landrys from Swamp People. We lost everything in Katrina. Da came here to work.” Luc shrugged. “He knew the bar owner from his army days.” The last was added bitterly, and Arrigo had to wonder if Dad had washed out of the military. Given his personality, the vampire would bet on it. “You’re not a native either, are you? You have an accent too.”
“It’s a blend of all over,” Arrigo said in all honesty. He wasn’t sure if there was a country he hadn’t at least visited at some point. “I’ve been here a few years. I’m sorry about your loss.”
Luc scowled. “Merci. I miss my friends mostly. This isn’t a town where you get to know people easy. Guess there are a few people I hang with, but it’s not home.”
“It’s always hard to move even in the best circumstances,” Arrigo said, trying not to be obvious as he eyed up Luc. A little thinner than Arrigo’s usual tastes, prettier, Luc had wiry muscle from a life of hard work. Arrigo liked that a lot. Curiously, he thought maybe Luc was checking him out, too, or was he merely trying to figure out what made a man help a stranger?
“Yeah.” Luc glanced over at the impressive Luxor pyramid.
The vampires had reserved the large conference room there for the New Year’s bash at Fadil’s behest. Arrigo’s sire, Fadil, was one of the current heads of the Chiaroscuro. Fadil was Old Kingdom Egyptian, and he couldn’t avoid the allure of the slick black glass.
Apparently neither could Luc. “Wonder what it’s like to w
ork in a place like that? Gotta have a mixology degree. Not sure why. How hard is it to mix drinks?”
“I don’t know. If you can drive, you could be a valet,” Arrigo suggested.
“Yeah, I could.” Luc’s expression brightened.
“I could help you get in somewhere, if you’d like,” Arrigo offered without thinking. What reason would he have to help? From the expression on Luc’s face, Luc thought the same thing.
He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
Arrigo shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “Why not? I have some connections. What’s the point if you don’t use them?” He figured it would sound better than “you look like you need a job and to get away from your family,” even though that thought raced through his mind.
“Karma again? What were you in a past life? A serial killer?” Luc’s wide grin took the sting out of his words, but Arrigo flinched nonetheless. He had killed more people over the centuries than a serial killer’s wet dream; granted, most of them had been rogue Supernaturals. Frankly he didn’t mourn their loss or have trouble being the one to end them.
“It does a person good to help others,” Arrigo replied.
“Not in my world,” Luc muttered, mirroring Arrigo’s wince.
“Not in far too many people’s world. I like to do what I can. I help out a number of charitable organizations every year, but it feels good to be able to help one-on-one,” Arrigo said, seeing the Veer looming in front of him. “This is my stop.” He didn’t want to part but figured it would be for the best. He actually had Luc talking to him, so how should he proceed? How could he be so clumsy? He literally couldn’t remember all the would-be lovers he’d wooed, and shouldn’t he be better at it by now?
Luc blinked rapidly. “You live there? Wow, guess a few water bottles aren’t too expensive-expensive for you.”
Arrigo laughed, remembering the Cajun tendency to repeat words to emphasize things. “Not at all.” He wasn’t worried Luc knew where he lived. If he had underestimated Luc’s goodness, it wasn’t easy to break into the luxury high-rise. If Luc somehow managed it and meant him harm, he’d face one pissed-off vampire, never a good thing.
Luc opened up the cooler, loaded up Arrigo’s arms, and thanked him again. “I should tell Da I’m on the way back.” He pulled out his old flip phone, opened it, then frowned. “The battery is crap on this thing, never holds a charge.”
“Want to borrow mine?” He figured the battery was half dead on a phone as ancient as Luc’s.
Luc shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay. Thanks again.”
As he walked away, Arrigo studied Luc’s very nice backside. Luc turned at one point and looked back. Arrigo smiled, not too ashamed to have been caught. He passed out the water bottles to the grounds crew who were getting off work, then headed inside.
“WHY DID you have me drive all the way out here?” George curled his lip at a creosote bush. He refused to step away from his car. “I’m meant for city life.”
Eleni smirked before turning her attention back to the fire she had going. “I feel the same, but if I did this in our new backyard, the neighbors would complain. It’s rather stinky.” She beckoned to him, wondering if he’d obey without complaining. He lived to please, after all.
“Are there scorpions over there?” It was more of a whine than a question.
“They’re more likely to be where you are. Scorpions like the dark.” She shared that sentiment too. The night had a lot to offer.
George trotted over. “Why are we in the Mojave?” He glanced down at the herd of plastic horses at her feet. “Is this where you buried that old lady?”
Eleni scooped up a blue plastic horse, winging it into the fire. “She’s right under the bonfire I’m making of her precious ponies.”
Pulling a face, George sat next to her on the log she used as a bench. “Is that wise? Someone might see the fire.”
Shrugging, Eleni replied, “I could use a snack.”
George blinked rapidly. “What if that nosy neighbor sees the horses are gone through a window or something? She’ll know your ‘aunt’ isn’t out East visiting people.”
It was one of the more intelligent things he’d ever said. “I only took a couple dozen. There are hundreds of the damn things. Come on, toss one on the fire. It’s fun. We can race them. Whoever’s horse turns into a puddle first wins.”
George chuckled. “I’ve got something better for you. I found Arrigo again. He was back at the psychic shop.”
“Did you manage to find his home?” That would make her night. It bothered her not knowing any of the places he could hole up. She couldn’t attack him in his actual home, too dangerous, but knowing where he’d go if he got injured helped her.
“No, not yet. Sorry.” George frowned as he picked up a horse with a skull on its haunches. He turned it over, not throwing it into the fire. “Today I followed him for a little bit inside the MGM where he mostly gambled, window-shopped, and had a few drinks at one of the bars, like he was killing time or something. When he finally left, he stopped at this blond fellow selling waters. I could swear he was one of the bartenders at that biker bar, but I haven’t hung around there long because they knew I didn’t belong in there.” He shuddered. “Anyhow, today the blond packed up the waters, and they took off together down the Strip, but I lost them.”
“You lost them?” She let a hint of fang peek out. How could he make such a foolish mistake?
“You know how the Strip is. There were too many people, and if I started pushing through them too fast, it would have attracted attention. You said I had to be sure Arrigo doesn’t notice me.”
“That’s in your best interest.” And hers. She’d be sure he knew who was destroying his friends later, after she had enough of them hurt or dead to make her happy. Didn’t the MGM have condos? He could be living there. Eleni would have to investigate that herself.
“It didn’t help that they’re both so short that the crowd swallows them up,” George grumbled. “But I have more from last night. He went to Fremont Street. He has a motorcycle, by the way.” George wore a hungry look. Eleni figured it must be an exciting bike. He tossed the horse into the fire, which spat and crackled. “He went to this bar.”
George dug his phone out and brought up a photo. He handed it to her. It glowed brightly, almost hurting her eyes. Eleni took the phone. The picture looked like a typical sports bar with the name Shifty’s Sports Lounge on it.
“I followed him, but… there was something odd about this place, something wrong. I felt uncomfortable. Like I was wearing a pink shirt in a redneck bar. I tried to stay, but I couldn’t. I waited for him to come out. When he didn’t, I made myself go back in, but he was gone, out a side door or something. Do you think he could have realized I was following him?”
“It’s possible. He’s old and wily.” She scrolled through the bar photos. Eleni squinted at something behind the bar near the glasses, finding what she expected, an inside joke, a little plaque reading Crypt-Kicker. Ever since the ridiculous song “Monster Mash” had come out in the sixties, they used the idea of the Crypt-Kicker Five to designate bars friendly to Supernaturals. A lone vampire or werewolf didn’t usually upset the normal humans, and magic users didn’t upset them at all. However, a crowd of the more predatory Supernaturals often set off a human’s sense of survival. They didn’t like sticking around a place like that.
“Are you angry?” The hint of fear in George’s voice brought her attention back to him.
“Not at all. You’ve done very well.” Eleni smiled. “How about dinner at Alize, and I’ll stake you at a game of your choice?”
He leaned over and kissed her, his beard tickling her. “Sounds perfect. But first let’s finish off these stupid horses.”
Eleni laughed. “A man after my own heart.”
ARRIGO DRAGGED himself into his condo. He had time before needing be ready for Taabu’s party. He might as well rest a little since he’d had a piss-poor night. Arrigo kicked back on the couch an
d flipped on the TV, planning to mock what the History Channel had wrong. His cat, Gaius, leapt into his lap, nearly squashing some of his best bits. He absently stroked Gaius’s soft fur.
He wished he could have asked Luc to Taabu’s, but throwing someone into a group of unknown people would be a cruel first date. Sure Luc sparked a bit around him, but Arrigo couldn’t tell if the attraction was real or just his fevered imagination. Arrigo wondered about his budding obsession. Maybe because it had been a while since he had wanted something he couldn’t have. His money and power in the Supernatural world meant he usually could have just about anything, and Arrigo admittedly was selfish enough to use that.
Maybe staying away from Luc was for the best. Arrigo probably represented a complication Luc didn’t need. Arrigo wished he didn’t have a weakness for mortals. Life would be easier if he confined himself to other Supernaturals, Often he did, but the fleeting humanity of a mortal enticed him. Arrigo didn’t claim to understand it, but he didn’t fight it. He did his best within the confines of his nature.
Arrigo stared at the screen, scowling. Reality TV shows on the Learning Channel struck him as far more insulting than Ancient Aliens on the History Channel. Arrigo embraced the modern era, but some things he couldn’t get behind. Narcissistic reality shows were at the top of the list, and that was him, a man with a nugget of narcissism in his heart, saying that. What did he care about women with too many kids, spoiled brats, or competitions based solely on greed?
Sighing, he settled on a rerun of Law & Order: Criminal Intent, and thought more about what Taabu had in mind. He hoped she had taken him seriously and didn’t try to set him up. He didn’t like dating friends of friends. Things always got awkward if it didn’t work out.
Maybe by next time Taabu had a backyard barbecue, he’d have a date of his own and be spared the awkwardness. Maybe it would be a cute bartender, maybe not. After finishing out the episode of Law & Order, he got ready. He put Luc out of mind and prepared for a fun night.